Expel

  I stop breathing in anticipation of what might come from his lips next— something wonderful, apocalyptic, a revelation of my future, all of the above. Anything seems possible.

  “You love Gage,” he expels softly with tears glistening, “but you love me, too. A powerful, hungry, unstoppable love that deep down, you can never deny. I can see it engraved inside your heart just as it is in mine.” The revelation is just within reach but he won’t give it. Instead, he expounds on the painful truth. I love Gage, and I love Logan.

  I fill my lungs with a breath, until it becomes painful not to exhale.

  “I do love you, Logan. I love you so much it hurts,” it depresses from my lips like a secret mired in truth and agony. “I’m going to kill you at prom,” it slips from my lips banal, as if death alone were the only way to steer us out of this conversation.

  “That means I’m coming back to you.”

  “We need a codeword, so I know it’s really you.”

  “Happily ever after. It will come.” Logan wraps an arm around my waist.

  It takes everything in me not to fall under the spell of this moment. Logan has convinced himself emphatically that we’ll be together, and it’s hard to refute something like that when I’ve had visions that back up his theory.

  “Happily ever after?” It sounds loaded.

  “It is loaded—with promise.” He dots my cheek with a kiss. “Happily ever after.”

  ***

  I blip back into my skin at West as if a single moment never went by. I bleed out the rest of the day—work a short shift alongside Gage at the bowling alley without mention of my dimensional jaunt with Marshall and Logan.

  Thankfully, Gage was only reprimanded with detention for trying to rearrange Marshall’s bone structure. It seems so lenient, makes me wonder if Marshall had something to do with it. Strange. But, then again, Marshall most likely has a far more severe form of punishment awaiting the love of my life.

  A horrible sadness ebbs away at me from the inside until late in the night as I lie on my bed contemplating the absurdity of thinking I could ever know my future, that anyone else could for that matter.

  A blue glow warbles next to the bed. A shimmer of light ignites bright as lightning before Giselle appears before me fully formed, warm, in a red cable sweater, jeans and boots.

  “You look deep in thought.” Her dimples go off, identical to Gage. “What’s going on?” She hops on the edge of the bed, exploding her perennial good mood all over the place. I don’t like it. It depreciates all of the melancholy I’ve invested in. It begs me to cheer up and match her enthusiasm, but I don’t.

  “Just busy,” I shrug, “You know, plotting the revenge of my enemies.” With prom just a week away that’s really where my head needs to be—wrapped completely around Chloe’s demise.

  “So are you going traditional? Vat of pigs blood?” Her lips curve as she holds back a laugh.

  “I’m thinking something less obvious yet equally as traumatizing. Nothing quick and dirty, that’s too easy for Chloe.”

  “Just Chloe?” She raises her dark brows, amused. Giselle looks eerily like the female version of Gage. If Gage and I ever have a daughter I would love for her to look like Giselle in every way.

  “I’m entertaining a few violent scenarios for Logan, too,” I say.

  “You mean Holden.”

  “Correct. Any ideas?”

  “Let’s see, you’ve already tried asphyxiation, how about poison? Or a hacksaw to the gut? You could pull his intestines out like unraveling a sweater.” Giselle is rife with lousy ideas tonight.

  “I’m thinking something a little less invasive, something without long lasting side effects.”

  “Like a heart attack,” she gives a knowing nod.

  “A heart attack,” I say, envisioning Logan writhing on the ground gripping his left arm, wracked with excruciating pain.

  “An electrical jolt to the ticker,” she suggests. “It could kill instantly. Of course, you’d need another power surge to bring Logan back and lots of CPR. We can’t afford the brain to be deprived of oxygen too long.”

  “This is great,” I marvel. Who knew Giselle would be such a wealth of knowledge when it comes to celestial takedowns. “How do I jolt his heart?”

  Giselle snaps at attention towards the closet as if she were suddenly distracted. Her face blanches out as she begins to disintegrate.

  “I have to go,” her voice melts as her flesh dissolves in a cloud of molecules.

  Before I can protest, my mother appears in all of her illuminating glory, an emerald rainbow crowns her from above, casts a strange aura over her long glowing hair.

  “Hey, Candy,” I say, completely uninterested in the fact she’s chosen to suddenly insert herself in my bedroom, right here on Paragon. “Aren’t you breaking all eleven commandments by gracing me with your presence?” I salt the words with enough sarcastic inflection to let her know she’s not wanted in these parts.

  No wonder Giselle took off. I would too, if I could.

  “You disrespect me.” She offers a peaceable smile. It makes me want to trust her, give into the illusion that she might actually care about me.

  “Welcome to the parenthood. I think I hear violins in the background, and, oh wait, what’s that?” I put my hand to my ear. “Oh, that’s right, I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

  “Skyla,” she bemoans with a smile. “I love you, dearly. I command you to lose this adolescent angst at once.”

  “Oh,” I tilt my head amused. “You command me? You so understand how the teenage mind works.” I give a mock salute.

  “I understand how your mind works.” She scoots into me and takes up my hand.

  “Only because you can read my thoughts,” I snatch my fingers free.

  “It’s because I care enough to know you,” she corrects.

  “What’s my favorite color?”

  “Purple.”

  “Blue.” I lie. “Who’s my favorite parent?”

  “Your father.”

  “And never you.” I fall back onto the pillow and close my eyes.

  She lays the cool of her hand over my forehead, strums a peaceful harmony through my being with her simple touch. I can’t imagine that being in paradise feels too different.

  “Why don’t you ever help me when I need you?” I don’t open my eyes—just let the current of her affection run deep into my marrow.

  “Each time you call out to me I’m by your side, Skyla. Anywhere you are, when you call me, I’ll be there.”

  “Ezrina needs a new trial or I’m doomed to walk the netherworld forever wearing her head as a hat. Will you help me?”

  “I will always help you.”

  “Why do I get the feeling we have a different idea of what that help might be.”

  She doesn’t say a word, just curves her lips into a curious smile that lets me know I’m right.

  Chapter 74

  White Wedding

  The rain last night swept away the clouds, the debris from the air, dropped the scales from our eyes so we could see Paragon without its constant shroud of fog. The crystalline morning air exposes all of the island’s secrets, not in whispers as the fog tried to do, but in loud clapping shouts. Our world is naked, the trees, the soil, every rock unimaginably real, distinct. The boldness of the lingering sunshine hardens the edges. It outlines the landscape with rigid lines, makes us aware of its unfriendly borders. It reveals the dirty roadways, the gaping holes between trees like missing teeth. It forces the island to expose itself with its skirt lifted high, bearing its shame for all to see.

  Gage and I examine the back of Demetri’s estate with awe and wonder at the transformation that’s taken place. An archway of white roses, an entire army of ladder-back chairs, each adorned with a pink satin sash, tulle running wild in every direction. Long white tables are set out in the distance, complete with a uniformed staff tending to them, nervous as a beehive, as if royalty were expected.

  “He really
went all out,” Gage pulls me in, buffers me with a quick kiss as Tad and Mom descend upon us.

  This garish display of affluence, this embarrassment of riches—this is nothing more than a box trap on a stick. Demetri holds the string in wait, and my mother is the unwitting sparrow.

  “You see the cake?” Mom picks up my hand, her fingers cold as an ice bath. Probably something akin to cold feet and hopefully she’ll change her mind. We could pay Ellis’ mother a quick visit once she realizes she could never make the same mistake twice.

  “We were just on our way,” Gage pushes gently into the small of my back, guiding me away from the two of them. He’s still really pissed at Tad among other people, Sectors to be exact.

  “Not that one,” Mom spins me around to another table with an equally gargantuan confection springing up from the center. “I had the bakery make one up just for the two of you.”

  Tad steps in. “It’s all getting a little too real, isn’t it, son,” he says, slapping Gage on the back.

  Gage is resplendent in his formal black suit, matching ebony tie. I would much rather it were our wedding and rumors of engagement were swirling around Mom and Tad. I’d squash those like a bug, wash Tad off the windshield of our lives like bird crap.

  “Let’s go,” Mom takes up my hand and scissors us over with the steady swish of her dress. It’s a white sheath, luminescent in nature and has goddess topknots over her shoulders. A heavily plunged neckline accents the front and will double as entertainment the second she bends over. She looks more ready for a Toga party than a wedding, but to each his own.

  I’m wearing a black dress with white polka dots, one size too small, my rear effectively hanging out the back. It’s similar in size and stature to the soul catcher Marshall will strap me into, come prom. Actually, they didn’t have this dress in my size, but it was so cute I don’t mind the fact I can’t completely inhale from the vice grip it has around my waist. Not that I’ll need help passing out once the preacher reasserts the fact Tad is a permanent fixture in our lives.

  “Wow,” I say as we come upon the tower of icing erected like a statue in our honor.

  Skyla and Gage is spelled out in blue gel that bleeds into the perfectly spackled frosting, smooth as glass.

  “It’s beautiful.” I swipe my finger down near the bottom and stick an inch of heavenly cream into my mouth.

  Mom slaps my hand with her loose glove.

  “What?” I say. “Let them eat your cake. This one’s just for me and Gage,” I give a devious smile up at him before relaxing into his warm chest.

  “You do realize this mix of flour and sugar cost over seven grand,” Tad espouses as if he squeezed every nickel out of his ass himself. “And in the event you’re both unaware, it’s meant to be eaten in a civil manner, not bathed in like some public fountain.”

  Gage widens his wicked grin. I dip my finger into the cake again and fill each of his dimples with a mound of sugar.

  “Unbelievable,” Tad gurgles.

  “Leave them alone,” Mom drags him off in the direction of the house. “They’re in love.”

  “I am in love with you,” I press my lips into his left dimple. “You’re sweet, you know that?” I wish it really were our wedding. I could care less if an entire army of Fems were in attendance. Starting our forever today would be amazing.

  Gage swipes his finger alongside the edge of the cake and smoothes it along my lips.

  “You’re sweet, too,” he says, sealing the sentiment with a most delicious kiss.

  ***

  Guests fill in nearly every seat. I’m not sure who these people are or if in fact they are people, I just know bodies have arrived in formal attire, large brimmed hats as if it were race day at the Kentucky Derby.

  “You see my mom?” Brielle hobbles towards me with her swollen belly shooting out, subtle as a projectile missile.

  “Nope.”

  A dark shadow glides over the vicinity, offers a respite of shade to the over-bright sky if just for a moment. It’s Nev. He circles the area above the floral archway as if he were offering his blessing, or placing a hex, either or.

  Gage nods over in Nevermore’s direction as if I should know what it means.

  “Places everyone!” Brielle’s mother flails her arms in hysterics as an entire string section starts in on a beautiful melody.

  “Guess we’d better get ready,” Gage presses a quick kiss on my cheek. Something’s happening. He pulls back and examines me as if to assert his theory.

  “We’d better get in line,” I nod into the words.

  Gage is going to walk down the aisle with me—then it will be Drake with Mia, then Ethan with Melissa. This is sort of our couple’s announcement to Paragon high society. It’s doubtful Mom will stay in their good graces. Once they get a whiff of Tad, her socialite days will be over before they’ve truly begun.

  We walk across the soft fine lawn and my heels sink into the soil, still soggy from days of rain.

  “Ms. Messenger,” Marshall hastens from the sidelines.

  Gage and I turn in unison with our arms intertwined.

  “Mr. Oliver,” Marshall gives a curt nod before taking a seat near the back.

  You look irrepressibly beautiful. He gives a gentle smile. It’s unfortunate your stride down the aisle will be precluded with unforeseen events.

  “I’m pretty sure no one’s going to stop me,” I whisper.

  “Skyla, Gage, you’re up,” Darla motions her finger down the long ivory runner.

  “It’s go time,” Gage nudges into me.

  Marshall turns to look at me, along with the dozens of people who’ve bothered to show up to this matrimonial mockery.

  Hard left Skyla, emerging from the shrubbery. Marshall nods.

  I snap my head over expecting to see Demetri wielding an ax, an assortment of disfigured Fems—but I don’t.

  Instead—I see my father.

  Chapter 75

  The Visit

  “Shit!” My heart thumps erratic at the sight of him.

  My father steps out into the light of day, disoriented as if he just woke from an unsettling dream.

  “Is that?” Gage stops short of finishing his thought.

  I shove Drake in front of me and instruct him and Mia to go on ahead.

  From inside the black hole of Demetri’s estate, I see my mother adjusting herself against the reflection in the French door, oblivious to the fact her oldest child is about to vacate the premises.

  I take Gage by the hand and speed over to my father, over by the box hedge.

  “Daddy!” I muster all the fake enthusiasm possible.

  Damn—Ezrina really is a wicked witch. How she and Nev could possibly ever think bringing my father to Paragon just in time to see his wife marry another man, is a good thing, boggles the mind.

  Dad squints into me. “I was just about to take out the trash, and I walked out of those bushes. You have anything to do with this?” He gives a sly smile.

  “You’re here,” I say, fanning my arms out. I haul us through the shrubbery, and we land in a rose garden that stretches out for miles with its labyrinth-like design.

  “So this is Paragon.” He looks around, taking it in. “It’s beautiful. Am I interrupting something?”

  “Just some stupid wedding,” I shoot Gage a look that suggests I might be moved to slit a throat or two to keep the identity of the bride and groom a secret.

  “Weddings are never stupid.” His forehead wrinkles. “Are you sure you don’t want to head back? I could steal a seat. No one would ever notice I was there.”

  “Oh, I think they’d notice,” I whisper.

  “Small town, everyone knows everyone,” Gage adds.

  “Skyla!” My mother’s voice booms from behind the hedges.

  A soft buzz emits from the other side.

  Perfect.

  Less than five minutes into the production, and we’ve managed to fuel enough island gossip for a decade. “Skyla?” Mom emerges from
the bushes, pulling the veil up from over her face.

  “Lizbeth?” Dad’s eyes widen first with delight, then horror.

  Nev circles above before darting into the evergreens for cover.

  He’d better fly away—far, far away to be exact. I might pluck him clean, later just for fun.

  “Nathan?” Mom drops her bouquet, christening the lawn with a shower of white petals.

  The simple sad song of a violin, sirens through the air. Even its soothing rhythm can’t quench the silence that has encapsulated the two of them like a membrane.

  “Why don’t I walk you back,” Gage picks up the ball of pale roses and tries escorting my mother through the bushes.

  “Did you do this?” She accuses me openly—doesn’t bother hiding her irritation.

  “No.” How am I ever going to convince her it was a distorted apology from my evil friend the bird.

  “Lizbeth, go ahead,” Dad pleads. “You, too, Skyla, there must have been a mix up.”

  I can’t stand the pain rising behind my father’s eyes.

  “No.” My mother steps forward. “I’m not going through with it.” She doesn’t take her eyes off my father. “Gage, please tell everyone I’m not feeling well, give my apologies.” She links her arm into his, and they delve deeper into the flower garden together. A lanky bush of citrus colored petals engulfs the two of them. The sun washes them in a shower of gold, arresting them in the silhouette of a newly married couple. But it’s all an illusion. It’s nothing that could ever be.

  The only thing that’s real right now is the fact Tad is barreling in this direction.

  “Crap,” I whisper.

  “I’ll take care of it.” Gage intercepts Tad off at the pass and walks him back through the shrubbery.

  Just freaking great. It’s up to me now to, of all things, convince my mother to go back and finish rehitching herself to Tad so that the people trapped in stadium seating can actually eat cake. But I don’t. I have no intention of inciting such nonsense.