“Anything else I can help you with?” Her lips twitch unnaturally as if she knows there’s more but won’t give one answer without my prompting.
“Why did Chloe kill Stella and Dad on the same day?” There’s no way in hell Chloe would tell me herself.
“She was making a statement—trying to show the factions there was someone new on the map they should fear. Her drive for power, her thirst to be in control, took two of the brightest souls off the planet. But their legacies live on through their children, and each of you will have the power, the authority, that Chloe so desired. You can’t change the will of the Master, Skyla. He will achieve His purpose.”
“Did she ever spend time in the tunnels? Ingram seemed to know her.”
“Indeed, she did. Paradise refused her. I had Chloe sent to the tunnels until her resurrection was complete.”
“Good call, I guess.” I consider this a moment. “Technically it was my blood that regenerated Chloe even though, at that point, she had already pledged over to the Counts. Why can’t I bring back Logan? I’m sure Dr. Oliver would be more than willing to help. We don’t need Ezrina’s formula.”
“Dr. Oliver didn’t bring back Chloe—neither did your blood, Skyla.”
“What?” I yank her into me.
“I did. I simply utilized the moment as a springboard.” The serene smile fades from her lips. “Chloe’s destiny was never to die on that day, so I allowed the detour to Tenebrous.” Her eyes latch onto mine, serious as a grave. “I needed Chloe to know you. She needed to make the decision to reject you with her own free will. She rejected you in faith when you were not around, and, once I resurrected her, she rejected you with the full knowledge that you alone were the chosen one. I owed her those freedoms for using her as a ruse. And, had you never touched her, she would have killed Gage on Christmas day for openly rejecting her.” A brief smile crosses her lips.
“Holy shit.”
“Skyla,” she reprimands in a playful tone. “But yes, quite shocking. Of course, Logan would have gone to prison for that. Chloe is a mastermind at covering up her dirty work. Demetri would have married Lizbeth, and, well, Nathan would never have spoken to me again.” She says that last part as if it were the sole reason she were thankful that I met up with Chloe in the woods on that fateful homecoming night.
Ahava sets in on a silent spin as I try to digest all of this.
“It doesn’t surprise me that Chloe would have killed Gage,” I whisper. “I’m thankful she didn’t, even though she tried again and again once she was back. I’m glad she’s gone. She made every moment pure misery.”
“The Counts and the Fems still have great plans for Chloe.” She sweeps the hair from my eyes. “Just like I have great plans for you. Any other inquiries?”
“Why the Mom, Tad hookup? Why didn’t Demetri come in for the kill when he had his chance? You mentioned he would have if I didn’t off Chloe.”
She pulls away for a moment to examine me. “Do you really have to ask? As if I would let that take place so soon after your father passed. No, it was difficult enough to let Nathan die. And believe me, Skyla, there are rules I, too, must abide by, or else that tragic loss, including that of my own life would never have happened. Besides, Tad has a special Countenance heir. I thought what better way for you to know your enemy than to graft you together as family. I’m hopeful this will defuse things in the future. We shall see.”
Dear God.
“Everything is so much more complex than I could have imagined.” I shake my head. “It’s mindboggling to comprehend. I’ll give you this—it’s masterfully woven. Thank you, I think?”
“You’re welcome.” Her lips twitch the hint of a smile.
“You mentioned Liam and Gage…you said they sacrificed their years.” I open my mouth, but truthfully I don’t even know how to formulate the question.
“I awarded Logan his treble just before I called you here.” She strokes my hair lovingly as if I were a beloved pet. “He thanked me, and the first thing he asked was if I could do the same for Liam.”
I take a breath and hold it at what might come next.
“The word ‘could’ is an insult to me, Skyla.”
Shit. He pissed her off without meaning to.
“Indeed he did.” She bubbles with a laugh. “I, of course, corrected him and assured him I most definitely would.”
“You will!” I hop to the balls of my feet. “Oh, my gosh, you’re wonderful! You’re the best mother ever.” I wrap my arms tight around her waist and refuse to let go.
“Liam will join Logan on the island soon enough.”
I pick up her hands and step back, taking in the wonderful being that is my mother.
“Thank you. Thank you for gifting me all of these wonderful people in my life. And thank you for entrusting me with so much. I’m going to make you proud.”
“I know you will. Now be gone, Skyla. I’ll see you at the coronation.”
And with a loud clap of thunder, I end up back in the butterfly room, alone.
The future has arrived. Chloe Bishop was nothing but a bad memory, and Logan would get his body back one day, but for now he’s got a beautiful, brilliant treble.
A thought strikes me numb. A horrible feeling of foreboding takes over as I realize my worst nightmare, and my mother’s words come back to haunt me. The future is fluid to an extent. People—decisions can change things.
Shit.
Logan’s body is in the Transfer, right along with Chloe.
Just fuck.
***
Marshall’s palatial estate is lit up like a pumpkin. I pull up in the Mustang with Gage in tow.
“I can’t believe I have to wear this ridiculous dress of Marlena’s just hoping to get an edge on Chloe’s newfound evil.”
“One thing is for damn sure, that dress is ridiculously hot. I’ve been dreaming about you in it ever since homecoming.” Gage flashes his killer grin while examining me in my sexed-up lingerie. “What does the dress do again?” The smile melts off his face. Gage isn’t impressed with anything remotely attached to Marshall.
“It tells binding spirits they can go and fuck themselves.”
“Skyla.” He pushes out a quiet laugh.
“I’m sorry, but I’m beyond pissed at myself for being such an idiot. Here I thought I had Chloe, and now she has me.”
Gage and I make our way up the driveway, and I pause, pulling him in under the velvet midnight sky.
“We haven’t even had the chance to talk, and here we are on another insane adventure.” I touch my forehead to his chest before looking up at those piercing sirens he calls eyes.
“Skyla.” Gage pushes it out like an aching cry of passion. “I know things.” He touches his lips to mine. “But I don’t need to know everything. Let’s get Logan somewhere safe. After that, I just want to hold you.” There’s a heaviness in his voice. Gage knows far more than he’s letting on.
“I can’t wait.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in. “I can’t wait for every moment of our life together, Gage.” I press a kiss over his cheek and linger. There’s so much more I want to say to him.
We head up to the house, and the door slips open as if sensing our presence. I jump a little when I see Chloe’s face staring back at me from over on the sofa, Pierce’s features right next to hers. But I force my feet in their direction. It’s going to take a lifetime to get used to the fact Ezrina has put on Chloe’s face like a mask.
“So, how does it feel to be free?” I ask, breezing over.
“Dumbfounded.” Ezrina’s expression remains emotionless. On second thought maybe it won’t be so hard to get used to. Already Ezrina seems much like her old self.
“Come here.” Nev rises and pulls me into a long, strong hug. No offense, but Nev is need of a serious shower. I guess that means Holden was far more frightened than he was letting on. “Sector Marshall here has offered us a room in his home.”
“Nice.” I beam a quick smile
at him. “Now that we’ve got that straightened out. Who here wants to help me break Logan’s body out of the Transfer?”
Marshall pins his cheek high and averts his eyes a moment.
“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion,” he muses at the purple and black tulle number I’ve adorned myself with. “Jock Strap and the bird will remain. You, me, and Rina will take on the little hellion ourselves.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Although, not much of one.
***
Devil’s Peak is barren of cars and teens, most likely because they’re all still holed up at the Paragon Palms Luxury Resort, chugging their senior year down to the dregs.
Marshall revs his engine and stares intently into the sheer granite cliff he’s about to speed us through.
“There’s got to be an easier way to get into the Transfer,” I say, trying to ignore the fact my insides are dissolving with fright.
“There is,” he growls. “But what fun would that be?”
Marshall hits the gas, and we fly toward the overgrown rock at dizzying speeds. Marshall’s luxury car gyrates and shakes until my bones feel as though they’re about to detonate into a million tiny pieces, and, oddly, it reminds me of those viral sensations during those lust-filled light drives we shared.
The car lands with a thump in the dark foreign landscape, and we mow down at least six Transfer plebeians, which I suspect is OK because they’re all dead to begin with.
“Skyla, you and Rina get the body. I’ll leave the trunk open for you. There’s someone in the Heart of Tears, and I’d like to have a chat with him.”
“What’s the Heart of Tears?” I look in the direction he’s staring, but all I see is the haunted mansion.
“It’s the deepest chamber in the estate. It’s where Ezrina kept her quarters.”
“Nice.” I make a face. “He’s probably riffling through all your stuff.”
“Is,” she confirms.
“More words, Ezrina, use more words,” I chasten as we head out.
Ezrina leads us brazenly to her lair, well, her former lair.
We bolt down a series of long, white corridors until we come upon the lab, or as I lovingly referred to it, the chop shop.
“What are you doing?” I ask as she speeds inside like a woman on a mission.
Ezrina ignores me and produces a large, white bag from under the counter and begins systematically throwing everything in—knives, barbaric instruments, vials, potions and lotions. It’s clear Ezrina is intent on taking everything but the kitchen sink.
She opens the cryogenic freezer that’s burrowed in the counter, and the entire cylindrical apparatus rises out of the hole. I stand corrected. The kitchen sink is very much included on her shortlist of things to pilfer.
“Blood, Skyla. Patented blood. I’m correcting my formulas. I refuse to leave my hard work at the hands of a fool.”
Well, there’s something we can both agree on. Chloe is as big a fool as they come.
We head out, and she starts back down the hall.
“Hey,” I hiss, “the watery graveyard is this way.”
“I’ll be back.” She continues in the direction of Marshall’s car. Something tells me she plans on several trips.
Crap. It would figure. Ezrina is useless in this mission.
I stomp my way around the bend until I hit the carpeted hall and head down to where Logan is floating in blue syrup. I’m greeted with rows and rows of bodies encapsulated in their grief, hair and fingers, noses pressed against the oversized glass vials as if they were trying to fight their way out. I let out a sigh as I take it all in. I can never get used to this.
Then I see him—Logan—locked in his silent spin. I press my hand against the cool tube, and my chest heaves as I hold back tears.
“Boo!” Chloe jumps up from behind the glass coffin and belts out a laugh.
I let out a short-lived scream and whack into the row of vials behind me.
“You scared the shit out of me.” I take her in with her newfound, polished allure. Chloe looks sharp. She could cut you with her serrated beauty and leave you to bleed out with just one look.
“A tradition I plan to uphold.” She’s traded in her prom wear for villain wear. Chloe sports a long, black cloak with red satin lining.
“Where’d you get the Halloween costume?” I muse. “Evil Douches-R-Us?”
“Did you forget something?” Chloe doesn’t bother with the wardrobe banter. Instead, she points a finger up at the boy I love, and her smile widens with wicked intent.
Shit.
“So, who you holing up in the haunted mansion? A boy-toy so soon?” I ask, taking a step into Logan. Fuck. What the hell am I supposed to do? Roll the glass casket out of here? My heart thumps, but I try not to give all my cards away at once. Chloe can smell fear. It fuels her.
“Maybe it is. Maybe it’s the boy-toy of my dreams.” A smile plays on her lips, but she won’t give it.
“Well, I’d love to stay and chat.” I turn the nozzles at the base of the tube the way I’d seen Ezrina do at least a thousand times while I was enslaved in the Transfer. Logan’s casket bucks loose and dislodges a set of wheels that convert it into a gurney.
“Let me help you with that.” Chloe plucks a metal bar off a table and positions herself to swing it like a baseball bat.
“No!” I try to stop her, but she levels me to the floor by way of a gash across my forehead.
Fuck.
“You ungrateful bitch.” I touch my face and marvel at the crimson stain on my fingers.
“Remind me again what I have to be thankful for?” She crashes the metal bar hard over the top of my head, and the world warbles in and out.
“For this.” I swipe her feet out from beneath her and pin her legs down with mine. Chloe and I struggle for the slick strip of iron until it’s clear neither of us is willing to give. Then, I do the only thing I can. I summon up all my Celestra strength and knock my skull against hers. Chloe blows back and blinks, stunned for a moment, just long enough for me to yank the rod out of her hand. I push back and whack her hard across the temple with everything I’ve got.
“Get used to that, Chloe.” I unhook Logan’s tube, and it slowly lies back until it’s horizontal. The long metal legs pull down, and I wheel him out of the Transfer as if it were on fire.
“Get used to me, Skyla!” Chloe calls out, her voice reverberating off the walls until they quake from the misery. “I’m your new shadow. Greif and pain will be my gifts to you, forever.” Her words resonate through to my bones, and my adrenaline spikes in agitation.
Marshall and Ezrina stand next to his car, chatting it up with the not-so-grateful dead. An entire tribe of women in dirty hoopskirts cackle into Marshall. God, he attracts them wherever he goes.
“What are you doing?” I scream at the two of them. “I could have easily used your help.”
“Binding spirit.” Ezrina inspects Logan’s corpse for a moment. “Locked out as soon as I left.” She makes a face, clearly dissatisfied with what little loot she managed to amass.
“Into the car with him.” Marshall opens the impossibly tiny trunk, and I give a little sob.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Nothing ever goes the way it should.
Ezrina starts in on the task of draining the tube, and I watch helpless as all of the precious keeping solution leaks from the vial.
Marshall yanks Logan out and throws him into the trunk like a sack of potatoes before slamming it shut as final as a casket.
He speeds us the hell out of the Transfer, running over a few of the residents just for fun. Marshall and Ezrina laugh and hoot as he knocks them down like bowling pins, but I can’t seem to find any joy in me, not when I just screwed up any hope of a future with my once precious husband. Without the keeping solution, the only place fit for Logan Oliver is the Paragon cemetery.
My mother said the future was fluid.
I hope this isn’t what she meant.
***
Devil’
s Peak welcomes us with its pounding surf, its suicidal jagged rocks that taunt the people from the overlook to jump on down. Marshall ropes his way up the winding trail that leads back to the highway. Still, the parking lot is empty. I know Ellis said he was having a party. It’s weird knowing that other people are still doing normal things like getting wasted at Ellis’s while I’m busy conducting body swaps, discussing future spouses with my long dead mother, and, now, I’m cruising the fine streets of Paragon with a body in the trunk.
Dark clouds roil up above like smoke swirling from a fire, like the chute was left open to the crematorium and Barron had burned every corpse in the cemetery.
Marshall turns down toward the bowling alley, and my heart sinks. This is starting to feel like a funeral procession, a drive by done out of respect for the body entombed in the rear of the car.
Marshall pulls in across the street, and I stare at the sign that lights up the night like a star. Between Ellis and Gage, the bowling alley is doing great, perhaps better than before. Gage started up bowling in the dark as a regular feature on Friday nights, and business has doubled.
“Out, Ms. Messenger.” Marshall and Ezrina both exit the car, and a flush of fresh night air breezes in.
I squeeze out and stretch my limbs as the scent of the evergreens mix with the ocean.
“This way,” Marshall calls.
I glance up, and my stomach lurches. It’s the house Logan built for us. Gone are the construction trucks and piles of dirt and rocks that lined the outskirts for months. In its place is a perfect lawn, a picket fence that leads to a giant white house with a wraparound porch that stretches the entire circumference.
I follow Marshall to the door.
“This is your gift, Skyla. From Logan.”
“My gift?” I step back and take in the hand painted words that curve along the frame of the white double doors. “I love you more than the heavens love the sun and the moon,” I whisper, as my eyes swell up with tears. “This is my birthday gift?” Logan never fails to amaze me.