Elysian

  “This is all your fault,” I whisper to him.

  Marshall steps toward my mother and bows his head as if placing it on a chopping block, as if giving into a conviction he’s yet to receive.

  “It was worth it.” Logan blows it hot in my ear like an erotic poem.

  “Sector Marshall, the court has convened.” My mother clears her throat. “Let us review. Under the list of grievances falls, coveting a human and entering into a covenant with her, meddling in dealings that neither effect nor progress the Kingdom works, and finally—aiding a human in resurrection after a severe beheading without the proper authority.”

  “That was Michelle,” I whisper. “If Marshall goes to hell for that I’m going to rip Miller’s head off all over again.”

  Logan chuckles, and his chest rumbles over my back. It feels so good like this with Logan. It’s almost as if we’re right back where we’re supposed to be. Marshall and those indecent light drives pop back into my mind, and I swat them away before Logan catches a glimpse.

  Mom sounds her gavel, and this time I note it’s morphed into clear crimson like that of a ruby. “How does the celestial court find Sector Marshall?”

  “Not guilty.” I jump to my feet as Logan groans beneath me.

  My mother averts her gaze in frustration. “I wasn’t speaking to you, Skyla.”

  “I’m sorry, but I think my opinion matters. That man—that Sector, protected me on occasions where my own mother left me out to dry, quite literally. And if that doesn’t make it clear, let me say it this way—he didn’t hesitate to save my ass time and time again.”

  The entire celestial sphere takes in a collective gasp.

  “Skyla.” My mother sharpens my name over her tongue. “Enough. You are his bride. You have no jurisdiction to testify either for or against him. Everything you say shall be dismissed.” She glances to her right and left. “Disregard the outburst. I demand you to forget every word from my daughter’s lips regarding the matter.”

  “No,” I sound off like a siren. “Rothello?” I take a few steps in his direction, and the lake ignites in a current that promises a painful, rather prolonged death by way of electrocution. “You loved, Jean.” I glance back at Logan, a little proud that I remembered his grandmother’s name. “You broke the same rules as Marshall. I bet if I dug a little deeper I could rattle a few proverbial and literal skeletons in your face.”

  “She has a point.” One of the Marshall twins peers down the aisle at his comrade in once-upon-a-human arms.

  “Are you through?” My mother glares as if she’s about to liquefy me with her disappointment.

  “For now.” I step into Marshall and take up his hand. Good show, right?

  Oh, Skyla, it depletes from him with the utmost sorrow. Apparently, you will never learn.

  “Now”—my mother’s lips spread in a thin line—“where were we? Oh yes.” She says it bored as if she hadn’t forgotten at all. “The matter of conviction.” The four of them talk amongst themselves nodding and coming to a rather quick conclusion. “Says one, says all?”

  They give a unified shout, “Guilty!”

  “What does this mean?” I whisper to Marshall. I’m panicked over this. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for me, and perhaps Michelle. But then again that was mostly my fault, too.

  It means whatever they want it to mean.

  “Sector”—my mother stands—“step forward.”

  Marshall and I take a few strides toward the lake, and a sizzle of electricity bites through our hands separating us quite painfully.

  “Just Sector Marshall for now.” My mother gleams a wicked smile. “The high court finds you guilty of malfeasance and charges you to relinquish your standing in the holy of holies, banishing you to mortal servitude—living out your days shunned from the people of your allegiance. All that’s been entrusted to you must be returned prior to the announcement of the victor of the faction war where your garments and trinkets will be entrusted to another. Here are the items you are to return immediately: your wings, the Chalice of Visions, and the Eye of Refuge. Failure to do so will result in the termination of your being.”

  “You have come to a formidable conclusion.” Marshall nods into their obvious bullshit.

  “Skyla!” My mother’s eyes spin with fire.

  I try to erect a mental block, strong as steel, to keep my mother from prying into my private musings, but it’s useless. Besides, she should totally know how pissed I am right now.

  “As I was saying,” Marshall continues. “It is just and right. I shall return the wings, and the Chalice of Visions at once. As for the Eye of Refuge, it is no longer in my possession,” he says it sharp as a razor directed to the stringy-haired Rothello.

  “I passed that hedge down generation after generation, and it was safe until your lady love gifted it to her bumbling relative.” He turns to glare at Logan.

  “And you blame me for this?” Rothello gapes. “You placed it as a wager during the soft war and lost. Don’t point the finger when you, yourself, laid it at my feet. Besides, it almost made it to your bride. It came very close. You should be proud,” he purrs as if he were mocking him.

  “What soft war?” I whisper.

  Marshall ignores my question. “A close second that has become a danger to us all.”

  “Is Chloe the danger?” I scuttle forward and take up his hand.

  “This doesn’t concern you, Skyla,” my mother bleats.

  Marshall huffs. “This very much concerns her. Everything points to her very being.”

  “That’s enough.” She darts a finger at Marshall, and my hand goes limp as he disintegrates, first to a shadow, then he’s gone, evaporated into thin air.

  “Oh God, no!” I cup my hands over my mouth in fear.

  “No cursing in the house of the Lord.” Mother smiles, pleased with the sentence she’s administered. “Sector Marshall has been escorted to retrieve his things.”

  “He doesn’t have the protective hedge, and, for damn sure, Chloe won’t give it back. You can’t just zap him out of existence for something so ridiculous.”

  “I can and I will,” she challenges, as the ring of lightning in the sky turns an amazing shade of purple. “He has until the Decision Council reaches a conclusion. That, my love, is called mercy. Do you wish to say anything else?”

  “Yes. I’d like a moment to speak with you alone, you know, a little mother-daughter bonding time.” Where I pepper her with questions and shake the shit out of her until she answers every single one.

  “Denied.” She holds her false smile a little longer than necessary.

  My mouth opens in disbelief as Logan takes up my hand and clears his throat.

  “I have another complaint to file against the Justice Alliance,” his voice booms across the nebulous expanse like a drum.

  “Also denied.” She frowns into him a little annoyed—for sure she’s not as annoyed with him as I am. “Once you’ve filed a motion, it needs complete resolution before you may file another.”

  Skyla, tell your mother you want to file a motion.

  “I would like to file a motion.” What the hell am I filing?

  Tell her you want to bring the Counts to the Justice Alliance over the resurrection of the eighty-nine Celestra.

  “I would like to bring the Counts to the Justice Alliance over the resurrection of the eighty-nine Celestra and possibly more that I’m unaware of.”

  “Skyla”—my mother crimps a sad smile as if she were sorry for me—“we’ve discussed this already. It falls under the Prisoner of War Act.”

  Tell her the act is fraudulent. The Counts stole souls from the ethereal plane. As far as I can tell, the earthly plane is the one the Justice Alliance can’t intercede in.

  “Those Celestra were drawn from the ethereal plane. You and I both know, the Prisoner of War Act is only valid on Earth.”

  Way to sound confident. Logan gives my hand a squeeze of approval.

  The not
-so fantastic four confer with one another before returning to their upright, uptight positions.

  “Very well.” Candace narrows her steely stare over at my being and sends an ice bath flushing through my veins. “Is this what you wish, Skyla? To bring to court an entire faction of Nephilim brothers?”

  Mia and Melissa, Brielle and Ellis run through my mind.

  “No, I suppose not.”

  Yes. Logan gives a firm squeeze.

  “Maybe just one, or two,” I say meekly because I’m totally not listening to Logan at this point.

  “Names.” She extends her hostile gaze from me to Logan.

  Names? She wants names! I’m panicked over this.

  Morley and Arson? Logan looks to me. I know for a fact they orchestrate the pipeline of Celestra bodies that make their way into the tunnels.

  I can’t torment Morley—not with Ellis still in pieces.

  Ellis isn’t back yet?

  I tip my head a notch at Logan. He knows Ellis isn’t back.

  Holden is interning, he says. If you don’t want Morley then you could easily haul Holden’s ass to court. I’d still like to see him fry for what he tried to do to you.

  My skin crawls at the memory. I’ve pretty much put the boat incident out of my mind where Holden was wearing Logan’s skin and tried to get into my jeans uninvited.

  “Arson and Pierce—who is actually Holden Kragger.” I may as well fry faux Pierce for turning the island’s newly minted junior division into a ball of hate—including my sisters. Holden and Chloe are a pair of real assholes who share the uncanny ability to never go away.

  “Very well,” my mother sighs. “The Justice Alliance shall look into the matter of contempt concerning Arson and Holden Kragger.” My mother’s gavel shines like a brilliant amethyst, vibrant and beautiful just like the sky over the ethereal plane.

  A ball of fire erupts with a tremendous roar as the entire Justice Alliance is swallowed up in flames. Then in an instant the flames, the smoke, everyone seated in high court disappears, leaving only Logan and me.

  “My mother really knows how to create a spectacle of herself,” I say, pulling him in.

  A dart of lightning quivers from the sky, illuminating the vicinity bright as the sun.

  “I’d refrain from the name calling.” Logan pushes out a slow-spreading smile as he takes me in. He tilts his head and gives way to a boyish grin. “So what’s new with you?”

  “You mean what happened with Marshall.” I bite down on my lip uncertain of how long I can keep my mental armor up with all those pornographic implications running through my mind, then one by one they evaporate as if they were being erased. “Oh God, my mother really is going to kill Marshall.”

  “Get the pendant back, Skyla. Not for Marshall, for you. There’s a very special reason you’ll need it. And if Marshall motivates you, then use that.”

  “What’s the special reason?” I go to snatch him by the arm and push right through as if he were a ghost. “Nice trick. You’re always full of tricks and secrets. Open up to me for once, would you?”

  The ethereal plane warbles and shifts, sinking the two of us into the landscape as if it were quicksand.

  “Trust me, Skyla.” Logan pulls me in, rife with desperation. “I love you more than anything. I promise you, it will all work out in the end.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Your mother told me.” His eyes soften into mine, and, for a moment, I can see our entire future—Logan and I together briefly, then a dark place, then the light shines over us again.

  The scenery fades to grey before I can contest my mother’s undependable platitude.

  I don’t believe her.

  I don’t know why in the hell Logan does.

  12

  Brain Drain

  The newly minted October sky peers down at us with its tangerine cast, its urine-soaked clouds ready to unleash a wall of disaster over the island. The haze sticks to the soil, viscous and humid, an odd combination for Paragon in general.

  “Morning sunshine!” Giselle looks over at me from the bed.

  She called once I got home, so I invited her to spend the night. I ended up hanging out in the butterfly room trying to collect my thoughts, which proved to be about as elusive as a butterfly in general.

  “You always this chipper?” It’s more of a rhetorical question. “The bathroom’s all yours,” I say, sticking my finger in Snowball’s cage as the tiny creature launches an all-out assault against my defenseless digit. “Geez!” I say, barely plucking my hand out in the nick of time. “Not too friendly, are you?”

  It strains out a whirring sound as if agreeing with me.

  “She’s not a morning person. She’s nocturnal.” Giselle leans in, and Snowball goes on the attack. “Besides, I’m pretty sure they don’t make great pets.” You’d think it wanted to scratch her eyes out the way its talons were snatching beyond the bars. “Maybe it’s insane?” She taps the cage and enrages the tiny creature in the process. “I think you’re crazy.” She hisses at it before heading into the shower.

  Snowball readjusts itself on its perch.

  “You’re not batshit, right Snowy?” I wiggle my finger in the cage, and a wild bite of pain rails through me. I extract my finger, examining the tiny ball of blood that rises over my skin.

  “Damn bird.”

  A pristine envelope snags my eye, and I head over to my desk to pick it up. My name is scrawled across the front with familiar penmanship, and I give a private smile.

  “Gage?” His name fumbles from my lips as I pull the letter out.

  Dear Skyla,

  From the beginning I was mesmerized by you. You held my entire world in the palm of your hand. When you came to the island it was as if a dream had come to life, and in a way it did. All of those dreams, those visions, those waking fantasies that played on a loop were nothing compared to being near you in person.

  You’re the air I breathe. You’re the universe encompassed in flesh, and I would die if you chose me to spend the rest of your life with. That’s probably true—it’d kill me, I’d be that honored.

  I know you have a connection with Logan. He reminds me at least ten times a day. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Logan’s a good guy and I know he feels as strongly for you as I do, but deep down a part of me doesn’t believe that’s possible. However, I’m not sure what you see in Dudley but as far as I can tell, he’s dead-set on protecting you. I still don’t trust him.

  Anyway, I don’t want to talk about them—I want to talk about us. You’re amazing, Skyla. There will never be anyone else for me but you. I can envision a future with you, and it’s beautiful. I can envision a family with you, a home. I’m not trying to sway you—OK maybe I am a little, but I honestly want nothing more than for you to sort out your feelings. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I still hope you’d consider me that person. I’m still your friend. Our friendship means everything to me, and I’d love to be a shoulder you can lean on for the rest of our lives. Sorry if I’m coming on too strong. I’m really trying to give you space, but at the same time I’m dying to hold you again.

  I’ve logged quite a few hours down at Rockaway lately. I kind of think of it as our spot. It’s empty without you, nothing but the shadowed sand, the angry sea. When you’re next to me, you light up the entire beach. You glow, Skyla. I never noticed what a dark place the world is, how hollow everything seems until now that we’re apart. But I believe in us, and that’s exactly what gets me through each day.

  I’m writing this at Rockaway, in our hut under the coral tree. I remember when I put this thing together. I thought about how much I love you, how much I loved us together. And I still love you—more than ever. I still love us together. Just know that you’ll always have my heart. You’ll never lose it. Whatever the future brings—wherever your heart leads you, just know I’m yours forever.

  Love always,

  Gage

  I clutch the letter to my chest and close my eyes. Gag
e. He has me in so many ways. I don’t think I could ever let go of him, nor would I ever want to.

  ***

  Giselle and I make our way downstairs in hopes of pancakes, bacon, and an overall drama-free morning.

  “It’s warm out. We’ve got that Indian summer,” Mom says as I walk into the kitchen with Giselle by my side. Mom’s got the baby nursing peacefully off her breast, which has Giselle looking mortified. But, sad to say, Mom’s extracurricular teat has lost its appalling effect on me.

  I pull out a seat for Giselle at the bar, before taking off to ransack the fridge. I’ve had her spend the night more often than not, so everyone’s pretty much used to her as a permanent fixture around here. I’ve been trying to decipher the mystery to Chloe’s secret that lies in the recesses of Emerson’s grey matter like some bomb waiting to take Chloe’s world down.

  Mom whisks by, sans the babe at her boob. “I can’t believe her father lets her spend the night when there’s school the next day,” Mom whispers as she gawks over at Giselle.

  “I can’t believe a lot of things around here.” A part of me wants to fill Mom in on a few deets concerning my newfound bestie, but I don’t want to get too involved with the Emerson, Giselle body switch this early in the morning, especially not since the junior Counts-in-training just sauntered into the kitchen.

  “Morning,” I sing over to them. “Whatever happened to creating wonderful meals to sell to your family at exorbitant prices?” I so wouldn’t mind an exorbitant price at this moment.

  “It was stupid,” Melissa snipes, pulling out a cereal bowl from the cabinet. “You guys never paid. An IOU isn’t real money, Skyla.” She says my name like its dirt. “Besides, we’re in eighth grade. That was a sixth grade endeavor at best. Isn’t that right, Mia? I mean all of your ideas are pretty lame and juvenile.” She snaps at my little sis, and for a moment I want to smack Melissa. She’s really changed and not for the better. I’d say something, but this is Mia’s “lame” battle to wage.