“What the hell?” Gage pants as he eyes me from bottom to top with his face agog as if he’s truly stymied by what’s happened.
“Don’t you what-the-hell me!” I snatch the spatula off the counter and swat him over the head a few good times before Ethan drags me from the vicinity.
“Wake the fuck up!” Ethan bellows over me. “Nobody touches my girl.”
I shoot an accusing glare to Gage. “You wish.”
“What’s this about?” Mom tries to pull me to the sofa, but I rebuff her efforts.
Rage fills me, percolating like lava ready to spew out, and I lunge toward them again. This time it’s Tad who gets in my way.
“This has to end, Lizbeth! Find a way to control this menace, or she won’t be welcome in this home. We’ve got children to protect!” He pulls his pants up by the belt loops. “Greg, consider yourself in charge of the Landon house until I get back.” He spins toward my mother. “It turns out, the squeaky wheel does get the oil. Althorpe finally caved and gave me a travel budget. No more staying in seedy motels. It’s room service and heated swimming pools from now on, baby.” He hustles over to his briefcase.
I let out a seething growl because at this point I’m pissed with just about everyone in the room. “By the way, Tad, my mother is perfectly capable of running a household. No need to leave it in the hands of a perfect stranger.” I spit the words like daggers at Gage, and he flinches.
“Yada, yada.” Tad holds up a hand. “That’s fine and dandy, but I need a man around while I’m away.” He slaps Gage on the shoulder as he heads toward the stairs. “I’ve got someplace to be, people.”
“And I’ve got someplace to be.” I cinch my belt and pluck the keys out of my pocket.
“Skyla!” Mom shouts as I bolt out the front door and into the soft drizzle of morning. “You’re not dressed!”
The thunder of footsteps comes after me as I sprint for the Mustang. Gage catches me by the elbow before twirling me into him. I try to push him away, but he flattens himself over my body, causing me to lean hard against the car.
“Skyla.” Gage frantically searches my features for answers. “I promise you, nothing happened.”
There. At least he’s not throwing the word “dream” in my face again.
“I’ve had dreams that have felt real before.” He looks past my shoulder because he doesn’t have the nerve to say it to my face.
“And there’s that word again.” I slip into the car and slam the door, starting up the ignition, and the engine grinds a couple of times before roaring to life. I slip my seatbelt on in haste and back out of the driveway like a pissed angel speeding out of hell.
“Skyla!” Gage calls out so loud his voice echoes right through to my heart, desperate as if he were fighting for his place in my life.
But I’m not interested in his half-truths anymore. Even my name sounded like a lie sailing from his lips.
A fire hydrant spews into the sky like a geyser, bottlenecking the downtown traffic to a crawl. I make a left and find myself staring at West Paragon High, that menacing painting of Cerberus glaring at me with all three of his ugly heads. I should have destroyed the building that houses his ugly mug before ever leaving. I should have mowed down entire huddles of bodies, taken out the bitch squad entirely while I had the chance. I’m so enraged I can hardly see straight.
The idiot behind me lays on his horn. I glance up in time to see a giant monster truck speeding in my direction, ready to T-bone me from the side just as the Mustang gives a violent jostle and spins from the impact.
“Shit!” My head slams into the driver’s side window. It takes a second for me to collect my thoughts before I notice the bastard is taking off. I floor it, and before I know it I’m in hot pursuit of said bastard. “You think you can get away from me?” I give a dark laugh. I’ve had a rough night and an equally rough morning. Personally I’m sick of the crap the universe keeps doling out. This bastard chose the wrong moment to mess with me and my Mustang.
He straddles the sidewalk to escape the early morning congestion, and I do the same, honking and following him down several side streets and onto a backcountry road I haven’t been on since…Carson and Carly left me to have my arm hacked off. The sign comes up for the Black Forest, and he speeds on down the trail, but I stall, considering my options for a moment. I know what his beast of a truck looks like. The island isn’t that big. I’ll simply report him to the harbor police and let them know he’s wanted in a hit and run, so he can’t escape. The dirty bastard might think he’s gotten away with it, but his ass is as good as mine.
Instead, I choose to drive off despite the Mustang’s notable wobble. I pull over and text Marshall to see if he’s already left for work and to tell him I probably won’t make it to class today.
A body materializes next to me. And, just as I’m about to swat it like a fly, I realize it’s Marshall himself.
“You’re here!” I lunge at him with a strong embrace. “It was terrible. He tried to say it was all a dream, and then I strangled Em, and then Tad made Greg the man of the house, and I got in a horrible car wreck. It’s been a shit morning all the way around.” I pull back and take him in like this with the early morning haze graying out the landscape. Marshall looks sharp in his suit, distinguished and demandingly lustful in an I’m-going-to-fuck-you-now sort of way. It’s no wonder he has so many coeds worked up in a tizzy. His silver tie brings out the come hither in his eyes, and a vision of my wrists bound to the post of his bed flit through my mind, but I’m quick to let it go. “It was a bad morning until now.” I soften. “By the way, there’s a bastard in a monster truck who hit me and had the nerve to take off. I suggest you hack off one of his limbs just to make sure he doesn’t hurt any other innocent people.” I give a smug look toward the Black Forest. “Preferably a leg or two—but an arm will do.”
“I know all about the incident.” Marshall’s hair is still damp from the shower, and he smells like expensive clothes, most likely because he’s wearing them. He’s all about Italian suits and fine leather shoes 24/7. I’ve heard a few girls in class call him Professor Panty Soaker, and I know why. “I wasn’t about to leave you alone with Jock Strap this morning. I was privy to every detail. The next time you’re in the mood for a good strangulation please consider your options.” He dips his chin and looks brutally handsome in his admonishment. “Young Emily was only doing what was best for her people—she’s hardly to blame.”
I smirk at the idea as that visual of her legs parting comes back to me. Sleeping with Gage for the good of her people? That’s no sacrifice for any woman—more like a dream come true, emphasis on the come.
“I guess Gage could argue the same.”
“Not true. He’s entered into a union with you, my love.” Marshall curls a finger under my chin. “You are first and foremost his family.”
“Not anymore.” I hold back tears. “When he chose to dip his wick in another flame this union was instantly snuffed out. I refuse to be one of those weepy women who take back their man. And, on top of everything else, he lied. He said it was all in my head.”
Marshall remains suspiciously quiet.
“So”—I toss my hands up in despair—“it seems I need a place to stay. I’ll pack a few things and be by this afternoon.” I pluck at my robe. “As you can see, I’m not dressed for school.”
“I wouldn’t dare ban you from my classroom dressed in this manner.” That perennial lewd grin twitches on his lips. “Nevertheless, you’ll do no such thing. Jock Strap is certain you had a dream—a nightmare if you will. He’s been assured it was impossible for you to witness what you did. That was his first error while walking alongside wickedness—forgetting that nothing is impossible with the aid of the Master.”
“Indeed.” I sink in my seat. “So what if he doesn’t believe he lied? It’s just a technicality. Face it, my new husband is a liar and a cheat.” My chest bucks with a sob. “If he lies to me one more time, I might have to resort to stabbing.”
&n
bsp; “Skyla?” He relaxes in his seat, his gaze set out the windshield at the cold, blank morning. “Has Jock Strap ever been dishonest with you before?”
“Never.” Not to my knowledge anyway.
“Do you have reason to believe he would willfully bed Ms. Morgan?”
“Not in his right mind. But after witnessing what I did, clearly he’s not in his right mind.” Em is so not his type. Is she?
Marshall raises a brow without looking over.
“Wait a minute! Are you saying he didn’t sleep with Emily?”
“Did you see any such thing?” He says it with such resolute boredom, a spear of relief rockets through me.
“Gage didn’t cheat on me!” I clasp my arms over his back in a big, rocking hug. “He loves me, me, me!” I jump over until I’m practically dry humping poor Marshall in a celebratory romp. “I have to call him! I have to tell him I’m—”
A hard knock emits over the driver’s side window, and I freeze.
“Oh, God.” I close my eyes a moment. “Please tell me that’s not—”
“I’m afraid so.” Marshall gives a little wave to the driver’s side before dematerializing right there in my arms.
My face smashes into the seat. Crap. I twist until I’m staring right into the most beautiful eyes known to man. The mist beads off his hair in clear, gray strips, aging him twenty beautiful years. His jaw is set tight, and he looks obviously ticked, although I’m still feeling rather self-righteously ticked myself.
Gage lets himself in and takes a seat behind the wheel. He’s wearing his Host practice jersey and jeans. His skin holds the scent of his woodsy cologne.
“That wasn’t at all what you think,” it speeds out of me, and I’m reminded of all the times he’s seen me fawning over Logan, over Marshall—and worst of all it was real, unlike what I saw last night apparently.
“That’s okay, Skyla.” Gage starts up the engine. “You mind if I take you someplace where we can talk?”
“I’d love that. I think we have a lot to talk about.”
He gives a solemn nod as he turns the car around. “I know we do.”
Gage drives us back down the road a bit and slows as he comes to the Black Forest. His dimples sink in as he navigates the Mustang down the darkened road.
“Turn back,” I warn. “There’s a lunatic in here who thinks my car is a battering ram.”
He winces at the road and speeds over the clearing without regard to anything I’ve just said.
“Gage?”
The large truck that kissed my rear panel is sitting cock-eyed near the foot of the trail. Figures. Not only are they incapable of driving properly, they can’t park worth a damn.
“That’s him,” I pant, ready and willing to charge out and wrap my hands around another neck if need be. On second thought, “Let’s call the police.”
Gage gently covers his hand over my phone before I can scroll for the number.
“We won’t be needing the police, Skyla.” A solemn darkness shrouds his demeanor, yet something in me is still willing to trust him.
We get out of the car and make our way to the oversized hell raiser.
Gage and I are going to kick some ass—because, thankfully, we’re still a team.
The driver’s door opens, and out slinks a tiny petite frame with a mop of dark hair—Chloe.
“Oh, it’s just you.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I can take this one on my own, Gage. I’d like nothing more than to distribute my second beat down for the day.”
“I asked her to meet us here.” Gage pulls me in, and I escape his lunatic grasp.
“You what?” I practically jump out of my skin as I say it. I knew I should have begged Marshall to take me with him. Attending class in my barely there PJs is far less of an offense than rubbing elbows with Bishop.
Chloe holds up a long, svelte finger to silence my husband.
“Let me.” She has the nerve to smile in my presence. “That was a part of our agreement, remember?” She gives him a hard wink.
“Agreement?” My voice shrills to the top of the evergreens. “She killed Logan and my father—and you’re here making agreements with her? First you sleep with Em, and now this?”
“You slept with Em?” Chloe sounds just as ticked as I am as she stands shoulder to shoulder with me.
“Don’t you side with me.” I take a full step away and scan the sky for that stupid bird who’s supposed to keep crap like this from happening. “You, Gage Oliver, had better start talking. You have about a ten second window and I just used eight.”
“I haven’t slept with anyone other than you.” His dimples twitch out a smile as if he finds my charged aggression cute on some level. He glances to Chloe, and his features dim. “She’s helping me.”
“She’s lying to you!” I’m one hundred percent right, and I can’t believe after all we’ve been through he can think otherwise.
“Maybe, but so far it’s working.”
“What’s working?” I’m indignant that we’re even having this ridiculous conversation.
Chloe steps in and lifts my chin with her finger. “Gage and I managed to do what you could never do. We’re taking down the Barricade, Skyla. So it turns out you’re useless as ever.”
“What have you done, Gage?” My body trembles at how fast and far he’s fallen. I know for certain Chloe only works for one side, her own.
“Relax, Messenger.” She smears my name with tempered hatred. “We have enough evidence to take them to the Justice Alliance.”
“The Justice Alliance?” I stagger away from them a moment. Why didn’t I think of that? “What’s this evidence?”
“Chromatophobic.” Chloe spits it in my face like casting a spell.
“Chromatophobia,” Gage corrects. “It’s a microbe that absorbs stains on a cellular level. Wes has devised a way to remove the marker from those who have sided with the Barricade.”
“He’s going to wipe us clean, Skyla.” Chloe smears it with disdain. “And you, and all of your pathetic minions, will be locked up in government-issued cages. You’ll be freaks—dangers to society.”
“See? She’s a part of the alliance. She admitted it! She’s a part of the Barricade. She’s not siding with you, Gage. She’s simply leading you into the mouth of the dragon.” I wince because Gage is the dragon.
He closes his eyes, slow and tired. “Skyla, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“That you brought a spirit sword, and we can take turns slashing Bishop to bits and pieces? I’ll accept that as an early birthday gift.”
“No.” Gage locks his hands over my hips and forces me to look into his ever-clear eyes. “I’ve joined the Barricade, Skyla. I’m one of them now.”
Gage
Skyla doesn’t say a word as I teleport us to the house on Whitehorse. The wind blows wild as if telling me to get the hell off the front lawn. The house isn’t a mansion, but it’s large and menacing in its own right. Its every last detail is meticulously executed. There’s a lab for Ezrina that spans a football field underground, and somewhere upstairs is a newly minted butterfly room. This is the house that Logan built.
Chloe scoffs as we head up the porch, but Skyla drinks it down, memorizes how it looks with the dark boiling clouds stamping out behind it.
“What is this place?” Chloe flicks the ivy snaking up the post.
“This is home.” Skyla says it quietly, her eyes fixed straight ahead with pained affection as if she were looking at Logan himself.
I cut a quick glance across the street at the bowling alley and spot his truck parked in its usual spot on the side of the building. A part of me wants to give him a call, tell him to join the party, but something darker in me says tough shit, and that’s the one I listen to.
“Home,” Chloe echoes.
“Logan built it for Skyla.” We head on up. The door is unlocked, so I swing it open.
“What’s this?” Chloe runs her fingers across the inscriptio
n on the threshold. “I love you more than the heavens love the sun and the moon.” She draws her voice out like a country singer. “Isn’t that just the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard, Gage?” Chloe wraps her arm around Skyla’s shoulder, and Skyla promptly jerks it right off. “I bet the honeymoon was hot. Did Logan like you on top, too?”
Skyla slams Chloe against a wall so hard the windows rattle.
She presses her face in so close I’m worried Chloe might head-butt her, or judging by this morning, vice versa.
“Listen, bitch”—Skyla seethes—“you might have Gage fooled, but I still see right through your twisted soul.” She gives Chloe a good shake until her head knocks against the wall. “And, as for Logan—he wanted me every which way to wash away the stain of a bad memory you left behind.” She glances at me before making a beeline into the heart of the house.
We follow her into the kitchen where there’s a secret door in the pantry that leads down to the lab.
I know that comment about Logan having her every which way was designed to piss off Chloe, but, for whatever reason, I can’t help think a tiny part of it was meant for me. It stung to hear it.
I still haven’t come clean about the induction ceremony. Emily was nice enough to play along. She said she knew I wouldn’t go through with it. As soon as that wall of fire went up, I sat down on the stone and waited. And when it was over I was back in my own bed again with Skyla ready to pluck my balls off for cheating. Someway, somehow she knows the premise of what was supposed to happen last night. I’m willing to bet every last penny I’m currently delinquent in that it had something to do with Dudley. I’d blame Logan, but he doesn’t have that kind of access.
Skyla leads us down corridor after white glossy corridor. She has this place mapped out just as well as she does the Transfer. Her footsteps slow as she comes across the vault where Logan’s body is stored in blue keeping solution. A steel door, five feet deep, with a wheel that looks as if it belongs on a ship is set in front of us. She flattens her hands carefully over the front before laying her cheek flat against the metal. Her eyes close, and yet I can see the pain written in them clear as ever.