Before I can refute Gage and his actions, the expression bleeds off Marshall’s face.
“What have you done?” Marshall whispers, looking past my shoulder into the forest as if he’s just been clued in on some huge misgiving I’m involved in.
“I haven’t done anything.” I turn to face Gage. His serene expression, those dimples that I desperately want to dive into call to me because I know for a fact I have done something, and it happens to involve temporarily misplacing Logan.
“I will see you in the morning.” Marshall’s tone is sharp as the tip of a blade. He stalks off toward the forest, not bothering to hide his irritation. Be warned, we have visitors.
I take in a sharp breath as I scan the black canvas draping over the evergreens.
“What’s the matter?” Gage breathes the words over my cheek like a warm L.A. breeze.
“Nothing in particular.” Everything to be exact.
A thunderous pop goes off, and a flare of light ascends into the atmosphere exploding into a luminescent bloom before sparkling like a Christmas tree on fire.
A crowd migrates toward the shore as the firework display ignites over the ocean.
“I know a place with a great view.” His face lights up blue then purple, then a violet shock of white that bleaches him, pale as paper.
“Sounds like some cheesy pick up line,” I say.
“Is it working?” His right dimple digs in deep. It’s obvious his left one isn’t sold on the idea.
“A little,” I say, lowering my defenses. It’s not my fault I’m caving. The heady scent of marshmallows roasting is making me delirious. Not all of us stuffed our faces with the remnants from a meat grinder. Not to mention the fact the display of light rocketing off overhead has me wishing I had a pair of strong arms to wrap around me—familiar arms that used to make me feel as though there were nothing in the world that could ever harm me.
A pink orb appears from a whisper. It holds itself in the sky for five solid seconds before a series of white shooting stars propel from its nexus. It’s so achingly beautiful, and then it evaporates to dust—phosphorescent ashes that rain into the ocean, forever forgotten like Gage and his love for me.
“So where we going?” I dust his face with a look of inquisition. I’ve given an inch, and now I’m curious as to what it’ll cost me.
“Are we going somewhere?” A twinge of hope sparks in him.
“You said you wanted to talk to me. I’m guessing in private.”
His brows dive bomb into a V. “You trust me?” He’s pleading with those desperate eyes.
“You’ve already fed me to the Counts. How much worse can it get?”
“I promise you have nothing to fear with me, Skyla.” The illusion of genuine love pours from him as he melts me with a penetrative stare.
A writhing ache churns in my belly. It’s as though Gage has so perfectly tricked my body into wanting him, desiring him on a cellular level. It’s impossible to simply let him go.
He takes me by the hand with caution as if my fingers had the capability to ignite into flames and singe him if the situation warranted. How I wish I could hurt him so easily, although it’s the emotional damage he’s done to me that scalds me from the inside. I could never replicate that kind of misery and graft it over his heart. I thought I did with the DVD but those were misrepresentations of who we were—my mistakes that I deeply regret. And the idea of him in bed with Chloe, probably both figuratively and literally, was an all-out deceit birthed before I ever got here.
Gage moves us past the crowd, away from where the band is still trying to piece together the mystery of the severed power line. I think I know the origin of their misery—it was the same one that produced mine, and now I was letting him take me places.
We move deeper into the night. A familiar-looking coral tree emerges in my line of vision.
There it is, our love shack, the one he built with his own hands from palm fronds, secured with twine and his false affection, so it wouldn’t blow away like we did.
It stands all of less than five feet with the soft weathered tendrils from the palms waving friendly in the breeze.
“I miss this,” I whisper. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. A part of me wonders if my body is working against me—letting him hold my hand, following him—what’s next? Mind-numbing kisses?
God, I hope so.
Gage picks up my other hand and holds them both in the air before kissing them in tandem. He pulls us down to our knees and relaxes his warm chest against mine, his fingers reacquainting themselves with my back.
“I’m going to tell you everything,” he whispers.
The sky blackens unnaturally. The fireworks fade to grey as a shiver runs through me. A glacial frost I hadn’t felt before penetrates through to my bones.
“Something’s happening.” My voice replicates itself indefinitely.
The Tenebrous Woods appear in snatches—gnarled branches—navy sky.
One reality is fading and another is about to take over.
Paragon folds in on itself in a violent clap.
I fall through a chute of enveloping darkness so strong I breathe it, taste it—swallow it all the way down to Demetri’s dark twisted tunnels.
Chapter 36
Crash into You
A dark solace, a free fall into a sinister world overcomes me. The glowing embers smolder in this tubular descent. The heavy scent of smoke and ashes burns through my nostrils.
I can feel the wind licking my skin, my limbs bend the way gravity demands, but the girth of my body, the weight of my flesh feels alarmingly unfamiliar.
I try opening my mouth but seem to have lost all control. Logan?
I’m right here, he whispers. You’re in me now.
Oh God. I watch as the walls ignite like a firebrand. The smell of a furnace intensifies as the ground comes upon us.
Logan lands hard on his side and we let out a solid groan in tandem.
Are you OK? I look down to survey the damage. We’ve landed in the hallway, the same black-and-white checked pattern on the floor—same creepy flocked wallpaper that lines the Transfer, hugs these walls.
Logan’s wrist is unnaturally bent. He sits up and nurses it for a few seconds.
You feel that? He lets out a soft moan.
I feel something. It’s not too bad though, no pain.
Good. I’m glad there’s no pain, he says, rising.
A terrible sound comes from the left, and I’m startled to find my body lying on the ground with my blond mane tangled in a huge ball around my face.
“Skyla!” Logan tries to rouse her. Sorry—can’t call her Ezrina down here. I just want to make sure your body is still intact.
The thought occurs to me that I might get trapped inside Logan forever, and perhaps that vision of me walking down the aisle toward him was really his wedding to Ezrina.
“Survived.” Ezrina gets up and dusts herself off, still wearing my bathing suit top and shorts from Rockaway. A layer of dark sand covers my feet like glittering shoes.
“Excellent.” Ellis’s dad comes upon us with the requisite glowing clipboard in hand. “Your Junior Council, Wesley, is in need of a pick me up.”
“Where’s this Wesley guy from?” Logan asks, trying to maintain a casual air about his curiosity. I’m betting he plans on paying him a visit. Kicking a little Count ass on the side.
“He’s a traveler.” Morley is quick with the answer as he leads us down a long narrow hall. “Wesley is from two years in the past. That’s how dry the reserves have been. We’ve been incredibly backlogged.”
“So I heard,” Logan nods. “Demetri filled me in on the treble.”
Morley shakes his head. “Let’s hope we don’t find ourselves in a mess like this ever again.” He straightens. “However, it’s picked up lately. Your supplies from the faction war helped significantly.” He winks into Logan.
That’s because you killed those eighty-nine Celestra! I’m almost giddy over the
idea that they’re not really dead, although I suspect they wish they were.
Correction, Holden killed, Logan interjects. You think they’re down here?
I know they are. Marshall said so, and Ellis senior just affirmed it. They’re probably resurrecting them like they do their own. Marshall wants me to bring it up at the faction meeting, make myself look like some kind of hero or something. He thinks it’ll give me some street cred, and maybe people will momentarily forget that I keep on losing.
Logan groans at the thought.
“What’s the matter?” Morley pauses just shy of the lacquered double doors.
“Just hurt my hand in the landing.”
“Well,” he says, frowning over at Ezrina, “it’ll be over soon. I’ve put in a request to have her instated as a permanent guest. It’s not right that you’re having to escort her like this.”
What? What kind of request? I’m more than panicked that this older, not wiser, version of Ellis wants to lock me up and throw away the key. He so wants my treble revoked.
“I don’t mind coming down here.” Logan gives a bored smile. “Besides, this way I get to keep her around. She puts out, so it’s all good.”
Really, Logan? I’d roll my eyes, but I’m deficient in those at the moment.
“Can’t say I blame you.” He openly roves over my body. “You should consider procreation since you’re close to pure yourself. Her children would be wonderful donors. Of course, the Family would pay you handsomely for such a sacrifice, and you could visit regularly.”
“I don’t know if I could handle my children hating me like that.” Logan shrugs as if they were discussing gas prices or the brand of oil they use in their cars.
“Oh, they wouldn’t hate you,” he assures, “they would have the luxury tower, as would she. Once a child is born into the tunnels, they know no other way of life. It’s the new model the faction is switching to. It’s much easier on everyone to raise them here right from the beginning.”
“I can see the logic.” Logan nods.
Ezrina turns and looks into Logan’s eyes, but it’s me she’s gazing at—holding me steady with my own steely gaze.
Ingram appears from nowhere and Morley, who, by the way, is rife with bad ideas, heads in the opposite direction.
What a freaking asshole, I say. I am so going to slash his tires first chance I get. I can totally see why Ellis feels the need to numb himself into oblivion. If Morley were my dad, I’d need more than an ample supply of narcotics to help me make it through the day. And to think I tried to encourage Ellis to quit. I think we should all be thankful Ellis hasn’t taken a swan dive off Devil’s Peak by now.
Morley’s always been a little off. Logan shakes his head. Now I know why.
“Tell her to step lively.” Ingram instructs without acknowledging Ezrina at all. He treats us like we’re animals—cattle.
“Ingram?” Ezrina shrills, loud and sharp.
“Step inside.” He all but ignores her. “Your caller has an engagement this evening.”
“I have never hated you.” Ezrina seethes as she steps into his face. “I have held fast that you did what was needed—but this?” She growls with an intensity I had no idea I was capable of.
What in the hell is she talking about? I say. God, she’s going to ruin everything. If she keeps this psychotic shit up, he’ll have me locked in the darkest part of the dungeon while a mob of bloodthirsty Counts ravage me all night long.
Ingram takes a cool step back and examines my body for less than a moment. “Control her, or she’ll have to be restrained,” he says in a soft voice with no real malfeasance behind it.
I can tell by the look on my face that he’s managed to piss Ezrina sky-high with his lack of general affect.
“Restrained?” She gives a quiet laugh. “Move in my direction and see what happens.”
What the hell are you doing? Logan grabs her by the wrist.
I knew it! I panic. I knew we couldn’t trust her. She’s going to do something stupid to ensure a free ride on the Skyla express for the next eighty years.
Ezrina seals us off from her thoughts the way Gage does when we’re together. Of course, now I know why he was locking himself away from me mentally. He was just fielding me for Chloe.
Logan escorts us down the long dark path as the Tenebrous Woods encapsulates us with its spiny depraved arms. The deep navy fog comes to life with screams and moans—a subtle cry for help that sounds so faint and desperate it makes me wonder if that soul is in its final hours.
I scan the chambers for people, but the first few are empty. Eventually, we come upon two women who sit back to back. They’ve both been restrained at the wrists and ankles with thick oppressive chains. The woman on the right is frightfully pale, her skin sags from a lack of nutrition and her grey lips hang low as if she hadn’t the strength to close her mouth.
It’s nothing but one horror after another down here. It’s so perverse, so twisted. Each Count responsible should rotate on a spit in hell for even thinking this is OK.
I’m sorry, Skyla, Logan says, pressing his hand in the small of Ezrina’s back as he leads her to the dark pit of my former, and very present, misery. I had no idea she was going to be such a loose cannon.
Well, she did hack off my arm—that could have afforded you a clue, I say.
Logan’s chest rolls in silent laughter. I made sure to add a no hacking clause in the contract.
Never mind, I say. I’m thrilled she’s offered to vet the pain for me. It’s beyond brutal. So why were you missing? You scared the hell out of me. And, by the way, your uncle and aunt are beyond worried. Gage is too, but I don’t bother wasting Logan’s energy on anything to do with him.
It’s part of the deal. I told her I’d stick around to give her and Nevermore the honeymoon of a lifetime.
Oh my gosh, that’s… eww. The visual alone puts me off.
I don’t make a habit of watching. He’s quick to correct. And believe me, I wish I couldn’t listen.
So that’s what you were doing?
That would be it. She put me in a chamber and induced a deep sleep.
Logan pulls Ezrina back by the fingers and nods over to the room with the giant wooden T-bar and manacles dripping from a long rusted chain. She goes over and Logan locks the bracelets over her wrists, secures her feet with the metal loops that strap into the ground. I can feel his heart breaking, his fury rising.
“Ingram,” Ezrina says, dusting him with a frosty look, “come.”
Ingram glances at Logan before heading over.
Ezrina doesn’t speak. Instead, she hawks back all of the phlegm she can manage and showers his strange glowing skin with a fresh batch of spittle.
Shit. Logan and I espouse in unison.
Freaking Ezrina.
She was using you, I say. And now she’s ruining me.
I’ve never been so afraid and yet so comforted than I am now with Logan. I can spend an eternity with him like this, wrapped in this indescribable intimacy, and with Ezrina in charge, I just might have to.
Ingram steps away and Wesley swoops in from out of the shadows.
“Boy, you’re really pissed today.” His eyes widen with a mixture of fear and wonder. Not only does he look like he could be Gage’s brother, but his voice is a perfect match as well.
Ingram shoulders up to Logan. “As her Elysian, I suggest you instruct the caller to bleed her dry. The sooner we have a hellion like this removed, the better. Those with fresh fight in them are usually nothing but trouble for the long haul.” He gives a quick nod and glares into Logan. “At once.”
“Bleed her dry.” Logan’s voice resonates high and strong like he means it.
Am I going die?
No—but Ezrina might.
Chapter 37
Triple Dose
I dream in misery. My body is submerged in the deepest part of the sea, inhaling algae by the gallon. I’m incapable of dying in this horror that’s cocooned me. Gage swims towa
rd me, his hair dances soft and buoyant. I beg for a breath from his lungs, for his lips to nurture mine, to absolve this grief I’m embedded in—but he doesn’t come. He looks up and I follow his gaze to find Chloe with her perfect limbs, a black wreath of tresses framing her nefarious smile. She pours something heavy and toxic straight from a bottle, dumps it right over my head—bleach. It’s sodden liquid sinks around me, envelops me in a septic cloud. I take it in through my nose—it scorches my lungs like flames.
I jolt out of the nightmare.
Snatches of stolen blinks and whispers clutter this dark new world.
The smell of smoke, the sound of laughter congests my lungs and ears. My lids are pasted shut with grit as I struggle to open my eyes.
“I’ve got you. You’re OK.” Gage depresses a wet kiss over my forehead as I begin to rouse from this aching slumber. I focus on the breeze that lingers, its cool embrace over that small token of affection he dropped. Gage picks me up and jostles us over the ebony sand of Rockaway as he shouts something indistinguishable.
Marshall appears, hovering over me, inspecting the damage. His face elongates unnaturally, and the world fades to grey.
“Open your eyes, Skyla.” Marshall’s voice sears my eardrums with its virulent command. “You must stay with us.” His echo pulls out indefinitely. “Take her to your home at once.”
The atmosphere changes. A familiar scent fills me with an intense rise of pleasure, and I’m suddenly greedy for air—taking in breaths like water in the desert.
“Skyla.” Gage hums my name, rocks me in his arms like a dying child he’s determined to save. A cool, damp towel pats over my cheek, and it’s enough to inspire me to open my eyes.
I recognize this place—Gage’s bedroom.
He pours water from a bottle over one of his stray T-shirts and presses it against my neck and forehead.