“Poor dear Jock Strap.” Marshall glows with delight. “It seems you’ve fallen forever out of her good graces. I gather your appeal hasn’t been met with open arms. Tsk, tsk.”
“There’s no way in hell you’re getting rid of me. Go ahead and try.” Gage gets up and taps Marshall in the chest. “You sack of celestial shit.” He pushes into him with a violent force. “If you love Skyla the way you claim to, you wouldn’t let any of this go on for another fucking second. Makes me wonder whose side you’re really on.”
“We all know whose side you’re on,” Marshall says, picking him up and launching him toward the window. The explosive sound of glass shattering fills the room. The walls tremble from the sheer heft of his violent exit.
“What the hell?” Barron rushes in with a needle at the ready.
“I’ve removed your son from the premises per Skyla’s wishes.” Marshall straightens like a good little soldier. “He’s out back if you wish to tend to his injuries. Do have him teleport you elsewhere. I’ll administer the dose myself.”
Dr. Oliver disappears from view, shouting for Gage as he heads out back.
“Logan?” I wiggle my fingers in his direction.
“I’m here.” He pinches a smile. “I’m not going anywhere.” He says it sharp as if to alert Marshall to the fact.
“Very well.” Marshall lifts my shorts just enough and the needle gives a hard bite over my bottom. A deep burn settles in as the fruit-based venom seeps into my system. “I apologize once again, love.” Marshall nods. “I’m unable to comfort you.”
“Please,” I beg. I would sell my soul for his soothing vibrations right about now.
“The toxin would never take. Your vital organs would sustain substantial damage.” His eyes close a moment. “I’ve doubled the dose. It should take half the time. You’ll be better in minutes. I’ll be upstairs should you need me.” Marshall presses in a full kiss over my lips before disappearing in a clap of dust.
Logan and I glance at each other as the first convulsion bucks me off the couch.
Logan is quick to scoop me up and cradle me in his arms. I’m going to make this better, Skyla. I swear on all that is holy. Logan increases his grip over me as my body writhes in a spastic rhythm.
Suffocating pain.
Kill me.
A hot poker of torment spears through my insides—blinding, searing explosions.
My body jerks in a quick series of convulsions and extricates me from out of Logan’s grasp. A seizure powers through my body, swift as an electrical current. I hit my head on the coffee table before Logan lies over me, heavy as a lead blanket.
“I got you,” he assures. He soothes me with the sound of his voice as I gyrate out of control. Logan whispers I love you warm in my ear until I pass out into a welcome oblivion.
Chapter 21
Marshall and Me
My lids grate over my eyes like pumice before finally opening to reveal the fact I’m still firmly planted on Marshall’s couch—pressed against the flesh of another. Only it’s not Logan this time, it’s Marshall.
“Where’d he go?” I lift my head and pan the vicinity. Logan wouldn’t leave me unless Marshall, himself, managed to banish him.
“How about ‘thank God it’s you’—or ‘praise high heavens that I’m locked in your strong arms?’ Or—‘how long must I wait for you to satiate me with your flesh?’” He glowers as if he’s actually pissed that I let the moment pass without any of the aforementioned sentiments.
“Logan?” I call out, refusing to play into his cry for attention. Honestly, he’s like a child sometimes.
“Your first instinct was correct. I banished him.” He flexes a dry smile. “Nevertheless, you’re better. And, yes, he stayed until the bitter end.”
I spring up next to him on the couch and take a deep lungful of air.
“I feel fantastic.” I marvel. “Like better than last time and well—” I wiggle my fingers and toes. “Better than ever in my entire life.”
“Your blood is powerful,” he muses.
“And apparently you are not.” I meet his gaze with great intensity. “Why can’t you stop this misery?”
Marshall’s jaw sharpens with frustration. “Could I—I would. There is a barrier set in place designed to allow for such grievances. If there were not, the faction war wouldn’t be necessary—good would always prosper over evil. But, alas, it lives, and evil thrives under its guise.”
“Why? Why does it even exist? Why not stomp evil out like the cockroach it so obviously is?”
“Shh…” He cradles me in a warm embrace. “It is the price of freedom. Rest assured, this reckless brand of freedom only lasts a lifetime. The consequences of one’s actions however, echo throughout eternity.”
I don’t really get what freedom has to do with anything. The entire concept is mindboggling, so I don’t bother beating a dead horse trying to wrap my head around any of this.
“I need to rescue those souls and win the war. Help me do that.”
“Sectors and Fems cannot engage in battle.” He pinches his lips as though deep in thought. “I can, however, try to quell the effects of your capture.”
“Yes!” I glom onto any ray of hope. “I beg of you, do whatever you can. I swear I will win this war for you, and I’ll free those Celestra in the tunnels.”
“I won’t allow you to swear to me.” His cheek slides into a depleted smile.
“In any case,” I continue, “I knew you were powerful enough, smart enough to put Demetri in his place. How are you going to get the Counts to back the hell off?”
Marshall glances out the window briefly before answering. There’s a far off look in his eyes as though he’s wagering something significant.
“What’s wrong?” I shudder unnaturally. Something has Marshall rattled and that’s never a good sign.
“Let’s change the subject for now.”
“No.” I flatten my palms against his chest. “You know something, and it’s going to help me.” I pick up his hand and interlace our fingers. “Tell me.”
“Very well.” He lands a gentle kiss over my knuckles and smolders me with a look of undying passion. To be Marshall’s wife, girlfriend, one night stand would be something altogether incredible. He knows how to bring the intensity to the table, in a naughty, X-rated, only-in-your-fantasies sort of way. “I want you to know I would sacrifice my standing in the Holy of Holies if I were able to remove this blight from your life.” A warm charge pulses from his hand. “I would cast myself willingly into eternal darkness to rid you of this grievous pain.” His gaze dips for a moment. “I have never fully understood the human condition—the complete heartbreak this world is capable of imparting. You, Skyla, have taught me much.” He tugs at my fingers. “And for this I am forever grateful.”
Marshall latches onto me with his magnetic gaze. His affection for me stops up the air, creates a covenant all its own, asserting his devotion for me. I can feel him fashioning his love, lassoing my heart with his open wanting.
“Thank you for always being so kind to me.” I lean in and nuzzle into his chest. “For being there whenever I need you.” What I really want to add is, for not lying to me, but I loathe dragging Gage in on the conversation, even if it is by proxy.
“I plan on being here for you the rest of your natural life and beyond. I promise to be the constant, the one you can rely on. My door is forever open.” He gives the curve of a lewd smile. “My bed is forever available should you need a warm place to stay the night. And, when the time is right, you’ll be my bride.” He says that last part so matter of fact, I almost believe him.
“What’s the plan?” I refocus him on the task at hand. “How do we get Demetri off my back?”
“By dangling what he desires most in front of him.”
“The ethereal kingdom?”
“Your mother.”
I sink back into the couch. “Absolutely not.”
“Why? He’s prone to making foolish errors in
the name of love. He’s practically human in that respect.”
“Very funny—again, no.”
“I’ve the sneaking suspicion your mother would be a willing accomplice.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not so sure what good it would do.” She seems to be headed in that direction on her own.
“Simply divulge the grizzly details of your capture to her. I guarantee she’ll have him reversing the order in minutes.”
“Demetri can reverse my capture?”
“He and he alone.”
“I don’t know if she’ll believe me. My mother’s been going to all the Count round tables…” My heart picks up pace. “She’s been seeing him behind Tad’s back.”
“You suspect something more is brewing?”
“God, I hope not. Even though Tad isn’t ranking as stepfather of the year, I’d be horribly disappointed if my mother were doing anything like that.”
“That’s because marriage is sacred, Skyla. It’s innate in people to understand the basic precepts—doesn’t stop them from acting otherwise, but deep down inside they know.”
“It’s a covenant.” I nod.
“It is indeed.” Marshall bows his head. “One I long to enter into with you.”
I give a placid smile. “So what do you think my mother would do if I told her about the bloodlet Demetri is responsible for? I bet he’s even housing babies down there. Nothing would make my mother more batshit than the thought of Demetri being directly responsible for the imprisonment of an infant. Then again, if he can’t have my mother, he probably wouldn’t bother letting me go.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. He thinks very highly of her. Disappointing the woman who holds his heart would wound him grievously.”
“Really? Perfect,” I say stunned. “Then I’ll just tell my mother.”
“Yes. Do tell.” He taps the tip of my nose with his finger. “Now back to the topic of us. I have a vision to share.” He licks his lips in anticipation.
“No.”
“Fine—then look at me.” He secures his arms around my waist and presses into me with his garnet colored eyes. It feels intimate, far more involved than kissing. I can’t shake the feeling we’re getting it on Sector style and I’m just not aware of the sexual parameters.
A vision comes to me. It’s Marshall and I standing in the center of a crowd. Someone chants over us, and everyone cheers.
I watch as Marshall bends to my ear and whispers, “You and I, Skyla, have entered into a sealed and lasting covenant.” He confirms the sentiment with a kiss that makes my entire person sing.
“No,” I say, snapping out of the matrimonial visual.
“Oh yes, Skyla.” Marshall picks up my ring finger and presses it to his lips. “Oh yes.”
Chapter 22
Hack Attack
An ordinary Wednesday in summer has an uncanny way of feeling just like the weekend. I open my window and call out for Nev on this fog-laden morn, which is far more traditional for Paragon then that burst of nuclear sunshine Demetri had arranged last week.
The sky stays unchanged. Not a single dark blemish, not a stroke of glossed wings gracing the arid expanse with their beauty. A stillness clots the atmosphere. It’s as if the world is holding its breath in anticipation of something monumental.
Nev doesn’t come.
Strange.
My phone vibrates over the nightstand. It’s a text from Logan.
Falls tonight? Me and you around 6?
I text him back. It’s a date. ~S
Truth is, he’s been asking every day since Demetri’s war-inspired kickoff to summer, and I’ve artfully said no. I’ve also managed to cleverly avoid Gage for the simple reason he’s an ass, and Marshall because I’m half afraid I might accidently marry him.
Evading Gage has been the toughest. I’ve been ignoring him in all electronic forms, and I’ve even gone as far as getting Brielle to cover my shift, so I won’t have to face him physically. Well, actually, she volunteered. Brielle is under the impression Drake’s mini me is allergic to her. Every time she steps into the room, he explodes in hysterics and hives. There might be something to the allergy theory, but I doubt Brielle herself is a part of the equation.
A shrill cry comes from the next room, followed by the trampling of footsteps descending downstairs.
I run down after them to see what the ruckus is all about.
“You freaking bitch!” Mia screams at the top of her lungs. Her voice curls the last word out like an opera singer. She’s shakes something furry at Melissa, causing an all-out slap fight to ensue.
Drake and Ethan jump in to break it up.
Something about Mia looks different: her hair is in a weird bun or clipped over her head or, oh freaking shit! It’s gone.
“Look what she did.” Mia thrusts a fistful of her golden locks in Mom and Tad’s direction. “She hacked off my fucking hair!” She bursts into a ball of tears and I head over and wrap my arms around my newly crop-haired sister.
“Melissa,” Mom gasps, “how could you?”
Melissa sucks back tears—her chest heaves in a panic. “She started it.”
“I was sleeping!” It drills out of Mia like a whistle.
“You’re lucky that’s all I hacked off!” Melissa’s face turns a violent shade of purple, and for the first time, I see the resemblance between her and her father.
“That’s e-nough!” Tad barks so loud that even the dog freezes in his tracks. “I can’t believe you would hack your sister’s hair off like that!” His eyes bug out. I’m actually a little proud of him for sticking up for a Messenger for once. Well, former Messenger anyway, since she decided to get her name changed and switched teams. “Mia!” He growls at her as if this were somehow her fault. “What did you do to provoke this level of insanity?”
Never mind. He’s still the ass I always knew he was.
“I didn’t do anything!” She fills the room with a consistent level of drama.
“This is over that stupid boy, isn’t it?” I step between them. I’m so sick of this fighting. The island is rife with plenty of adolescent males to go around, Gage being one of them.
Neither of them says a word. They just cross their arms and glower at one another, certifying the fact I hit the Armistead nail on the arrogant blond head.
“Neither of you is allowed to look at a boy all summer,” Tad crows.
“Oh.” Mom averts her eyes. “Now there’s a viable punishment. Why don’t you just give them a pocketful of cash and drop them off at the mall and tell them shopping’s off limits, too.”
My heart thumps.
I hate that Mom and Tad are starting to fight in front of us with an alarming level of frequency. Sure, the occasional squabble was exciting to bear witness to, and sure the idea of Mom divorcing Tad and moving to greener financial pastures seemed lucrative at the time, but now with Demetri in the picture, all of this verbal scrimmaging seems like nothing but a bad omen.
“What kind of punishment do you see fit—honey?” He says the cute moniker with an aggressive amount of sarcasm reserved for future ex-husbands the world over.
“I say we let Mia decide.” Mom gives a defiant nod.
Sure—put a hormonal, and might I add, very pissed off, thirteen-year-old in charge of punitive damages where her evil step sister is concerned. Melissa just took a bad hair day to a whole new level. I’m not sure Mia can come up with anything crazy enough to compensate.
“Mia?” Mom nods. “Take your time and think up an equitable punishment to give your sister. I’m sure once you kids realize the punishment is going to be doled out by the one you decide to pick on, things are really going to change around here.”
Things are going to change all right, starting with hairstyles.
“OK.” Mia circles Melissa, eyeing her long flowing tresses. “I get to cut Melissa’s hair.”
“No way!” Melissa jumps back as if Mia’s fistful of follicles has magically morphed into a thousand blond garden s
nakes.
“Yes,” Mia says it sweetly. “I promise to do a nice, neat trim. I’ll get a bowl and everything.”
“Daddy, you’re not going to let her do this, are you?” Melissa’s widows peak engages in perfect V formation as her forehead creases with concern.
Tad cuts a quick look to Mom. “If your mother here deems it a fit punishment, then I’m on board!” He shouts it at Mom. It comes out more of a threat than an alliance.
“Well, I do!” Mom shouts back.
“Nice to see everyone getting along so famously.” Ethan heads to the fridge. “By the way, Chloe’s parents are heading off to Europe for a few weeks. She’ll be crashing here for a while.”
“What?” I speed over and snatch him by the wrist before he has a chance to mine the fridge of its anemic offerings. “She will not crash here. You crash there. Are you a dolt? She’ll have an empty house. Think of all the promiscuous possibilities!”
He considers this a moment. “Empty is the problem.” He pulls his wrist free and swoops a soda out. “Who’s going to buy all the food? Cook? And what about fresh boxers? I only got about a week’s worth, tops. Besides, she’s forking over a cool grand as rent.”
Tad clears his throat. “Chloe is more than welcome to seek room and board in our home.” He espouses with a reserved calm. The idea of Chloe as a revenue of income pleases him to no end. Obviously the fornicating arrangement is overlooked when hard cold cash is forked over, not that Tad ever blinked at the copulating palooza.
I open my mouth to refute the idea, and nothing but a series of choking sounds emit.
“Relax.” Ethan leans in. “I’m using her. I’m still really pissed she gutted me like a fish. She’s worth more to me in my bed than dead.” He walks off after making his moronic sexual proclamation.
“OK, girls.” Tad claps at Mia and Melissa. “Make up six or seven dozen hot dogs. Your brothers and I have a training session this afternoon.”
Mom brings her hand to her mouth in disgust.
I’m right there with her, ready to puke at the thought of Chloe, my own little Frankenstein, sharing downtime with me like a real live legal relation. Looks like Mia and Melissa won’t be the only fake sisters trying to off each other this summer.