Brielle slides her leg over mine for a brief second. Don’t do it, Skyla.
And there it is. I wondered if Brielle would let me sink into Chloe’s scheme without warning. But now I know Brielle is true blue. I won’t ever doubt our friendship again.
“I want us all to be one hundred percent prepared,” Chloe bellows it out. “It won’t be easy. Sleep on it, imagine going through the motions, dream about it, damn it. I really don’t give a shit. We’ve got one chance to get this right. That’s it for now. Practice is done for today.”
The group disbands, and I note Brielle and Emily exchanging words, nothing heated, but I’m on red alert in the event things turn lethal.
Chloe slithers up beside me, her dark hair completely past her shoulders and well down her back. I suppose growing her hair out is something Chloe qualifies as using her powers for good. And, in Chloe’s case, it’s as good as it gets.
“So exciting isn’t it?” She beams a malevolent smile. Homecoming is one of my favorite nights of the year.”
“Mine too,” I quip. “Remember the year I killed you?” It sings from my lips like a dream.
“Remember the year I…” she chokes out a faint laugh. “Oh, wait, I’d hate to offer any spoilers, Skyla. Because this is the year we’ll both remember.”
“I’m sure we will.” She will never see Kate coming. And if she thinks I’m riding shotgun with some corpse on my lap while she parades me around town, she’s got another thing coming.
Chloe steps into me, nose to nose as if she were about to rip my head off, and, honest to God, I’m so ready for her to bring it. Every cell in my body is crying out for her blood on my hands.
“Demetri wanted me to invite you to his home this afternoon.” She takes a step back. “He said he’d make my future clear but only if you’re there.”
“No,” I flat line. Like I didn’t see them scheming together in the woods earlier like a bunch of jackals. “You and I both know you don’t have a future, Chloe. No point in luring me into some lame trap.”
Her eyes round out. Her skin grows ashen.
“You have a price, Skyla. Everybody does.”
I glance down at the protective hedge around her neck and think of Marshall and Logan’s insistence that I get ahold of it.
“I don’t have a price, Chloe,” I whisper the lie as my breath surrounds me in a white seam of gauze.
“Your sisters, my bling.” She shrugs. “Everyone’s got something they could really use—maybe save a soul or two in the process. But who’s that desperate, right?” She blinks over at me. “Oh wait, you’re that desperate. Aren’t you?” Chloe takes off for the gym, her skirt lifting with every bounce as if she were mooning me in intervals.
“What was that about?” Logan jogs up beside me, panting and sweating, with his helmet tucked under his arm.
“She’s just excited because she thinks she’s setting me up for a body snatching.” I make a face. “Where’s Gage?” He successfully avoided us by studying in the library at lunch, and now he’s bolted from the field. I’m half-afraid he’s going to be persona non grata until my mother snatches Logan in the night.
“He let me know what he’s up to.” Logan pans those citrine eyes over me like he were starting a fire. “Skyla…” He shakes his head, filled with remorse.
“I want to be with you.” I step into Logan until our stomachs touch. “There’s not one ounce of me that doesn’t want you.”
His cheeks darken a shade, and my insides pinch.
“Logan Oliver, are you blushing?”
“If there’s one girl who could make me blush like a schoolgirl, it’s you.” He digs a smile into his cheek.
“Hey, Logan?” I lean into him. My hand brushes over his chest in a half-circle. “Will you be my date for homecoming?”
He looks down through his thicket of amazingly long lashes. Everything about Logan is amazing.
“Yes,” he pushes it out just barely. “I would love to be your date.” His lips twist as though he’s reconsidering. The wind picks up, thrashing the fog around like a giant shaking out the sheets. Logan traces my mouth with his fingers. “Skyla,” he whispers it heavy with sorrow. “I don’t want your pity. I didn’t die, so you would choose me.” His chest pumps a laugh at the tragic idea.
“Spoiler—you’re not going to die, Logan. I’m going figure a way out of this. It’s not over until the wild cat in the sky sings.”
A quiver of light expels from above, assuring me she heard. It’s comforting on some level to know my mother pays careful attention.
Logan leans in, his lids hang low in a rather seductive pose. It’s clear he’s bedroom eyeing me, and he doesn’t care who or what is watching.
“I’m still fighting for you, Skyla—for us.”
“I know.”
That’s what I have to fight for, Logan and me. Suddenly the scales have fallen off, and I see that Logan is still a very real contender, and the urgency to speak to my mother intensifies, stronger than ever.
He leans in and offers a gentle kiss.
“We need to strategize on how to get that pendant, Skyla. Maybe we can hang out after homecoming and figure out a game plan.”
“Sure, after Ellis’s, of course.” I reach over and give his hand a squeeze.
I’m hoping by then I will have seen my mother and have some seriously good news.
Logan gives my hand a squeeze.
Don’t worry, Skyla. Remember when I shared with you what she said? That we would have some time together, be separated, and then make our way back?
That’s right! I had forgotten all about that, and my entire being swims with hope.
I think maybe this is it. His expression grows dim. We were together, then you were with Gage, and now, we’re sort of back. He hangs his head a moment. This might be it for you and me.
Chloe speeds out of the gym with the Eye of Refuge sparkling in the early evening light, and my heart thumps wild as I track her to the parking lot.
It winked right at me.
It’s almost as if it were trying to tell me something.
Logan squeezes my hand.
Maybe it was.
28
Rest in Pieces
Thursday after school and a grueling additional hour of cheer practice, I head home to shower and dress. There was no way I was hanging around to take part in Chloe’s body snatching scheme specifically designed to send me to prison. It was bad enough I was accused of killing Kate the first time around. I don’t need her parents coming after me with torches and pitchforks because I was caught exhuming the body.
I towel dry my hair, already snug and ready for bed in my comfy Gage sweats. If he thinks he’s not dancing with me tomorrow night, he’s got another thing coming.
Voices emit from downstairs, and Mom shouts my name.
Maybe Gage is here? Maybe he wants that dance right now?
My door bursts open, and it’s just Mia.
“Chloe’s here. She says you’d better hurry up, or you’ll be late for the movie.”
“Movie?” I roll my eyes. “Chloe.” I choke her name out in a fit of insolence.
Snowball bats around the cage, screaming and rattling the bars as if he were suddenly trying to make a prison escape.
“Come here,” Mia coos and the white-winged creature hops over to her as if she were his favorite person.
Mia unlatches the gate, and Snowball hops onto her arm then all the way up to her shoulder.
“He really does like you!” I marvel.
“She.” Mia gives a sideways smile at the beast. “I can just feel it. She wants to be my friend. See Skyla? Not even animals like you. You’re the enemy of every living creature.”
“Would you knock that off? You’re going to ruin our sisterly bond if you keep referring to me as the enemy. I’m not your enemy, Mia.” I pass her up, speeding my way downstairs. She—he, who the hell cares? It’s a bird.
In the family room, Chloe leans into Mom and obse
rves while Beau suckles off her breast.
“I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend.” She ticks her head toward Giselle.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Mom waves a hand. “She’s here practically every day. Skyla and she have struck up quite the friendship.”
My heart seizes. It never occurred to me it might be my own mother who would blow Giselle’s cover.
Ethan walks in and grunts in disgust once he gets an eye full of Mom’s third nipple.
“Great, Mom, now you blew it,” I say, thinking quick on my feet. “It’s really none of Chloe’s business who Ethan sleeps with.” I’m quick to cover my mouth in an attempt to save imaginary face.
Giselle sticks her finger in her mouth and gags from behind Chloe’s shoulder.
Chloe needles me with a look before turning around and glaring at Giselle.
“I don’t care who Ethan sleeps with, Skyla. Unlike you and your many suitors, Ethan and I happen to have an honest relationship.”
Mom’s mouth drops wide. It’s about time she sees Chloe for the cruel scum she is.
“I never wanted to believe that, Skyla.” Mom latches onto Chloe’s line of thinking and runs with it.
Shit.
And, I think I’ve just had a change of plans. No way am I going to hang out in bed while Chloe stinks up the place.
“Whatever,” I say, snatching up my keys and heading for the door. “I’ve got a homecoming dress to shop for.”
A white blur swoops in from upstairs and speeds into the family room.
“Get her!” Mia cries, waving her hands in the air as if that were going to stop the demonic bird.
A series of screams emit from the kitchen, and I’m quick to follow Mia back to the action.
Mom is huddled in the corner with her entire person bent over baby Beau, while Tad chases the little owl with a broom.
“Come here, you flying rat!” he taunts.
I shoulder up to Giselle, and we watch with a mixture of horror and delight as the winged creature dives and pecks after Chloe.
Tad swats Chloe over the head a good six times but, thankfully, misses Snowball. That bird is relentless in its pursuit of the big bad bitch, and I’m ready to break out in a series of kicks and cheers to spur it on in its disfiguring endeavors.
A seam of blood erupts across Chloe’s cheek, then another over her forearm, then the other arm.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. I stare in wonder at how accurately it mimics the cuts I gave Chloe that night in the woods—the night I killed her.
Tad gives the tiny beast one final swat, and it catapults all the way across the room.
“Dad how could you?” Mia screeches as both she and Melissa herd it back upstairs.
I glance back at Chloe with her hair knotted up like a tumbleweed, a seam of blood running down her cheek, and smile.
“All’s well that ends well.” I jingle my keys. “I’m out of here.”
I’ll have to find a rat for that bird just to reward it. On second thought, there is no bigger rat than Chloe Bishop.
***
I hightail it out of the Landon house and jump into the Mustang. It feels like I’ve just pulled off a world-class bank heist the way I’m peeling down the street just to get away from my newly-lacerated nemesis.
I give a soft chuckle at the thought of what that bird did to her. Amazing. That rat with wings is officially my new favorite creature. It’s like it knew Chloe was in the house and made a beeline over to her before going all ghetto up on her ass. Just the thought has me chortling all the way to Marshall’s.
Who knew watching Chloe get pecked alive by such a seemingly innocent creature could offer me so much pleasure? Well, I did, but that’s beside the point.
Marshall’s oversized abode is once again lit up like the best little whorehouse in Paragon. Not a good sign. I swear on all that is holy if I find Little Ms. Corset heating up my “husband’s” bed, I’ll be the one going ghetto on her seventeenth-century ass.
I stride up to the porch and bang on the door before the belly of those foreboding clouds up above have the chance to rip open and vomit out their misery.
A thought occurs to me as the door swings wide, and I’m pleasantly surprised to find Marshall on the other side, not some frilly-feathered floozy from yesteryear.
“Do you know what I was just thinking?” I take in a breath as I glide past him.
“Do tell.”
“I was just thinking I hope that skank isn’t heating up my husband’s bed.” A bubbling laugh streams from me.
Marshall straightens, his lips purse.
“OK, I wasn’t really thinking ‘skank,’ I believe the exact phrase that came to mind was Little Ms. Corset.” I step into him and run my finger down the slick of his tie.
A clanging sound emits from the kitchen.
“What was that noise?”
“What noise?” His brows rise with amusement because he so knows what the hell that noise was.
A hard bite of something pungent yet familiar wafts through the air.
“What’s that smell?” I don’t wait for him to respond. Instead, I pull Marshall along by the tie until we stumble into his colossal cooking facility, which happens to house exactly what I feared most—Marlena.
She drags her dark eyes over my person, slow and disapproving. She’s wearing a black lace dress with red satin shining underneath—yet more non-chic from her signature call girl collection.
She smirks in my direction. “I thought you said you’d get rid of her?” She sneers before sautéing whatever unfortunate creature Marshall caught in the yard for their meal.
“Did you say that?” I give his tie a hard yank.
“Careful.” He pulls the steel grey strap from my grasp. “I said no such thing.” He shoots daggers over at her.
Ha! He’s giving her the angry eyes. I knew Marshall would never say that about me.
“What’s she doing here?” I whisper as the mystery meat sizzles in the pan.
“I’ve a portal open. She and a few of the girls have decided to extend their visit.” Marshall gleams under the duress of my jealousy. He’s relishing my panicked state of being. I can tell.
“Close the portal,” I say it sharply.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that.”
“Why the heck not?” I hiss just this side of yelling.
“It’s her final night back home. She’s heartbroken over the fact her lover was taken to the tower. In just a few hours she’ll….” He twitches his brows.
“Wait a minute…” I back the hell out of the kitchen and yank Marshall with me. “You said she had the black-death. I thought that was the primary reason she took a swan dive off Dover.”
“Indeed, the diving takes place just as you suggest. She always did have a flare for the dramatic. The trip to Paragon has done her such good. Of course, she won’t be formally diagnosed until later this evening. Needless to say, she doesn’t take the news well.”
“Marshall!” I swat him over the arm. “That woman has the freaking plague! You can’t let her run around Paragon. In fact, you’d better get rid of every last one of them just to be safe.”
“The curse is confined, Skyla.” He flexes a dissatisfied smile. In fact, the longer she remains on the island, the longer her life is extended. I’m simply doing a friend a favor.” He peers down at me, gauging my response.
“You’re trying to make me jealous,” I whisper.
“Is it working?”
I suck in another quick breath and smack him over the stomach again.
Marlena comes out with a frying pan in hand and tsks over at us.
“She beats you?” She scoffs at me while landing her dish on the counter. “My how the mighty have fallen. I’ll have you know, women throw themselves at him and beg for Master Dudley to have his way with them.”
“Oh, they still do,” I assure Chloe’s doppelganger. “Only now he’s referred to as schoolmaster Dudley, and he much prefers the girls
to beat him.”
“A paddling, eh?” She gives a quick wink. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“I’m going to be sick.” It takes all of my strength not to hurl at the thought of Marlena wielding a whip. “Look, I’m here for the dress.”
“What dress?” Marshall looks perplexed.
“You know, homecoming is tomorrow. I didn’t shop for a dress because I figured you’d have something from your freaky fashion collection all ready and rearing to go.”
“Freaky fashion collection?” Marshall gives an exasperated blink. “Presumptuous aren’t we?”
“You really don’t have anything for me to wear?” That heavy metal number he gave me last year, which was both backless and bottomless, still hangs in my closet. I guess technically I can recycle.
“I might have something you can wrap around yourself for the evening.” Marlena tries to look wide-eyed and innocent just the way Chloe does before she chops someone’s head off.
“No thanks.” I’m not really a germaphobe, but I’m pretty sure there aren’t enough bottles of coagulated rubbing alcohol to cure the disease she’s breeding. I don’t care if Marshall says her curse is contained on her little jaunt to the future. Just the thought grosses me out.
“Oh, come and have a look.” She gives a sly wink over at Marshall as though the two of them had been planning this all along.
We follow Marlena upstairs to the room next door to Marshall’s, and a tiny part of me is relieved she hasn’t taken up residency in his private boudoir.
“This.” She plucks a short dress from the closet. It’s red up top with spaghetti straps then blooms into a simple black skirt that flares on the sides. A circle of rhinestones is set at the waist, and I pull it forward to examine it.
“Wow, those are some sparklers,” I muse. “They really knew how to make nice rhinestones back then, didn’t they?” But the dress is rather meh. “No thanks. I think I’ll pass.”