A thin trail of blood runs from its open mouth and trickles down my neck.
Shit!
I claw at the earth to get free from beneath it.
“Gage!” I call out like a wounded animal, terrified and helpless. The Fem cuts off my breathing, lays over me solid as a truck. Its stench burns into my nostrils and induces the urge to vomit. Strong rolls of nausea cycle through me until I start in on a series of unproductive dry heaves.
An audible grunt floats from up above.
“Gage?” I ask hopeful. It sounded distinctly female. Maybe it’s Brielle—or Michelle in a tirade of insanity.
The dead Fem rolls off with its flour white face staring dismal into space. I jump to my feet and turn around.
A curtain of dark hair swings back like a shield before I see her.
“It’s you!” I say, fascinated while staring at Giselle, Gage’s long dead sister. She looks murky, taller than I remember, and a part of me is starting to wonder if I’m hallucinating again.
A low threatening growl trembles through the forest.
I take her by the hand and lead us towards the parking lot. Yellow glowing eyes zigzag through the branches. I can’t tell how many there are. It could be one, but feels like fifty. The wolf-like creature touches down in front of us blocking our path. The fur on its back spikes up like porcupine quills as it reclines on its heels ready to pounce.
“I’m strong,” I whisper trying to convince myself. Truth is, I haven’t felt the need to test my strength or speed since I came out of the hospital, but if Marshall hearing my thoughts is any indication, I’m willing to bet my reflexes are more than a little off.
“Skyla?” Giselle pulls me back by the elbow.
The beast leaps in the air with distended claws, snapping its red angry mouth in our direction.
We’re done. Really, I guess it’s just me that’s done since Giselle was done a long time ago.
It rises above us howling and scratching the air like a cat on fire. A shower of blood rains down from either side.
It is spectacular to watch, the elephantine beast exploding midair.
Gage!
He stands behind it with the spirit sword glowing by his side. He bolts over and spins me in a circle.
“You OK?”
“I am now. You always have that thing handy?”
“Never leave home without it.” He takes a deep breath in the crook of my neck.
I lean in and meet him with a warm kiss. “Guess what?” I glance around the dark. I don’t see Giselle anymore, and something about this frightens me.
“What?” he pants into my ear.
“I…” Maybe it was just another hallucination. God—I must really be insane.
“What is it?” Gage picks up on my trepidation—only he earmarks it as fear and yanks the sword back out of its sheath.
“Never mind.” I push his arm down. “Get me out of here. I want to go home.”
We tread our way out of the forest, Gage with his arm around my waist, and me with my sanity hanging on for dear life.
“Excuse me?” A weak voice strangles the silence.
I avoid saying her name in the event I’ve accidentally bonded myself to another spiritual appendage, some demonic imposter who’s ready to take down the final pillar of my frail lucidity. But I see her. I see her pale face, glowing blue eyes, and the dimples replicated so well on her person that she looks like the exact female representation of Gage.
“It’s her,” I whisper. “It’s your sister.”
His hand goes limp, and he staggers into the forest a good five feet before pausing.
Giselle emerges into a thin sliver of moonlight, it washes over her like a supernatural waterfall of brilliance, and at the moment she looks every bit human.
He rushes to meet her, and they connect in an explosive embrace.
A loud hiss followed by a bright light detonates to our left.
The bloody carcass of the beast lights up the forest in a wash of quivering light.
I clamp my hand over my mouth in awe of its spontaneous combustion.
Gage pulls his sister over and grabs me by the waist. We run towards his truck with the engine still running and the driver’s door wide open.
“I can’t go with you,” she says.
“Do you have a message from my mother? Is that why you came?”
Another ball of fire ignites behind her deep in the forest as the Fem bursts into flames.
I can hear Gage on the phone calling in the fire.
Her face contorts as though there were so much she wanted to tell me, and now there isn’t time.
“Come with us,” I say getting into the truck.
“You look a lot like her.” She squints into a pained smile. “I can’t stay. She just wanted me to let you know there’s a reason for all this. It’s bigger than you, Skyla. She wants you to be strong.”
Another vague pep talk.
I jump down from the truck as the forest erupts into a blaze as tall as a high-rise.
“Tell her I want to meet her,” I try to swallow down my budding fury. “Tell her I’m in a shitload of trouble, and it would be really nice if my dead angelic mother could pull a few fucking strings for me.” My sudden burst of anger surprises me.
“Testy.” Her ears pull back in amusement.
“Testy?” I can barely get the word out. “The forest is on fire. I have the blood of a Fem all over me, and the one person I help bring back to life thanks me by stealing my boyfriend. Yes, I’m testy!”
Gage takes me by the shoulder and gently walks me backwards.
Giselle’s face peaks in frustration. “I’ll fill her in on how you feel.” She blows a kiss to Gage and disappears.
“Fill her in?” I say disbelieving.
The shrill cry of a siren cuts through the air like a serrated blade.
We hop in the truck, and the doors clamp shut, and the engine starts on its own volition before Gage has a chance to insert the key.
“Shit,” Gage mutters. “Get out, Skyla.”
We thrash into the doors to no avail—the locks won’t budge.
The truck spirals around in a wild circle before taking off as fast as the engine will allow—straight into the burning inferno.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Lost
White glowing walls, a stainless table lies in the corner with sinister looking tools sprawled out.
“Is this?” Gage pauses, taking it all in.
“The Transfer.” I feel my way around the room until an opening appears that leads to a dark carpeted hall. “Emerson’s here.”
Gage wraps an arm around me as we drift down corridors clinging to walls. The hallway opens up to an incandescent light, and I lead him over to the tanks.
“There she is.” I lay my hand flat on the cool glass.
Gage leans in and watches her slow dizzy spin.
“It is her,” his skin glows a soft blue from the reflection.
“What is this place?” I walk over to the boy with short dark hair as he continues in his watery slumber. “Do you know this guy?”
Gage comes over and examines him.
“He looks sort of like,” he pauses squinting into him.
“Like Drake, right?” Not quite like Tad, but almost. “Weird.”
“That’s more than weird.” He stoops towards the metal band slapped to the bottom of the tank. It’s turned in towards the wall making it impossible to read. “I can’t see it.” Gage plucks at the metal strip in an effort to remove it.
“Can you spin the tank?” I try to twist it.
“Doubt it.” He pulls at the glass until it starts to turn.
“You got it!”
“I see it,” he grunts.
A loud pop crackles overhead, and a trickle of blue liquid runs down the side of the glass.
Gage pulls me back a good three feet as the tank begins to shatter. Water gushes out with a hushed roar as the body drops to the ground in a heap.
/> “Time to go,” Gage pulls me further into the facility, into another room lined with aisles after aisles of long glass tubes filled with bright blue water.
“Dear God,” I whisper. Each tank is filled with a tangle of floating limbs, a halo of hair rising from each one.
An alarm sounds. A rumble of footsteps erupt in the corridor.
The scent of smoke fills my nostrils as the room turns strangely dim.
***
A fiery slap commences over my cheek as my eyes struggle to open.
A man in a yellow hat telescopes in and out of focus until I realize it’s a fireman.
I sit up shocked to find myself back in the soot-covered forest. My clothes are charred, and my hands covered in muck.
“Where’s Gage?” I choke the words out.
“He’s locked and loaded, ready to go.”
To my surprise I’ve already been hoisted onto a gurney. We traverse through the woods, still burning in spots, as we make our way to the open mouth of the waiting ambulance.
I lean up as the bed collapses beneath me, and they glide me right alongside Gage.
His skin is covered with a thick layer of grime, and there’s an oxygen mask securely fastened over his nose and mouth. His eyes are closed, and this scares the hell out of me.
I wait until they place an identical mask on my face, and the ambulance wails down the street before reaching over and clasping onto his hand, cold and limp.
I jostle and squeeze him trying to rouse him from his slumber—but nothing.
All of the kisses we have ever shared flash before my eyes. It is majestic, this love affair of ours, so powerful and regal.
It’s the kind of love that fairytales are born of.
The kind that often ends in tragedy.
***
Smoke inhalation.
Both Gage and I sucked in a lungful of ashes, and now we’re reaping the consequences.
I must not be that bad because they’re sending me home, but they insist on keeping Gage for observation.
“You’re awake!” I say, making my way over. As soon as the doctor said I was released, I made a beeline to his room.
Gage gets up on his elbows, his face still slightly smeared with grit.
I hop up next to him on the bed. “You should really consider becoming a fireman. You’re way hot with all that soot on your face,” I say.
His eyes pierce through like sirens as he coughs out a small laugh.
“I’m so glad you’re gonna be OK.” I lean in and offer a soft welcoming kiss, pull at his lips with mine as if we were anywhere but a hospital room.
“I don’t know how we got out of there,” Gage whispers into my neck. “Something tells me it was just in time.” His eyes dart to the door before returning his gaze. I know he’s talking about the Transfer. “I saw the name on the tank.”
A loud rustle erupts from the doorway.
“She’s in here, Lizbeth!” It’s Tad. His hair is rumpled, and he’s got a gown wrapped around him. His entire face is scabbed over with pinpricks.
Mom runs in and tackles me with a hug.
“Are the two of you, OK?” Her pea green eyes stare out in horror.
“Yes,” I say. And judging by the way Tad’s standing there with his arms folded in judgment, so is he.
“I just finished a nice conversation with an officer of the law,” he huffs. “Turns out your romantic tryst in the woods burned down nearly a half acre on school premises.”
“Our what?” I ask.
“They found candles,” he directs it to my mother. “He said the two of you were tangled up in one another when they found you.” He reverts back to Mom. “It looks like they were overcome with smoke from the inferno they set off.”
“There were no candles. We didn’t start a fire,” I say to Mom. Some part of me still wants her to believe me.
Gage leans back, places his arm up over his head and closes his eyes as though the drama were too much for him right now.
“I want her on birth control,” Tad barks before storming out of the room.
“I don’t need birth control.” I meant to say it to my mother, but instead I scowl over at Gage. It’s not my fault his moral compass suggests we wait.
“Tad is being discharged.” Mom pulls a pair of gloves from out of her pocket. “I’ll be back in five minutes to take you home.” She disappears into the hall.
“What was the name on the tank?” I ask Gage without missing a beat.
His groggy eyes look back at me like twin blue stars.
“Ethan Landon.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Somebody’s Watching Me
Even though Gage was discharged the next morning, Emma insisted he stay home from school—probably doesn’t want him anywhere near me. I bet she refers to me in horrible nicknames like Messenger-the-menace, or Scary-Skyla—Skanky-Skyla.
Marshall calls me over to his desk after class.
Chloe collects her things extra slow, assuring she’s the last one to leave the room. She blows me a kiss on the way out the door. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such an intense level of hatred for anyone before.
“She’s quite enamored with you.” Marshall doesn’t look amused.
“The only reason she wanted to come back was to steal Gage.”
“Sometimes, Ms. Messenger, things aren’t what they seem.” He scoops off the mess of paper on the surface of his desk and tosses it in his briefcase haphazard.
“You have plans for winter break?” I ask out of boredom. West gives three weeks off plus an entire week after as ski week. That’s one, long, bliss-filled month.
“Shall I incite your mother to invite me over, Christmas Eve?”
“Will you play Santa?” I ask almost seductively. Maybe I can seduce Marshall into helping me kill Chloe.
His face relaxes, and he gives me those bedroom eyes. Marshall is far better at being seductive than I could ever hope to be.
“What are you after?” He looks me up and down with an appropriate amount of suspicion.
“Tell me about my mother.” That’s not really what I’m after, but it’ll do for now. “She sends a dead girl to give me nebulous messages. Is my mother a coward?”
“I’ve already warned you not to slander celestial beings—your mother is at the very top of the list. Trust me, that is one woman you don’t want to infuriate.”
“Have you infuriated my mother?” The idea fascinates me.
“She’s less than pleased with me attempting to procreate with her daughter.”
That makes two of us. “She can find comfort in the fact it’s not going to happen. Marshall? If I wanted to travel into the future I’m going to need a supervising spirit. Do you think she’d want to supervise me?”
“It’s not as easy as picking a spirit out of the crowd. It involves great sacrifice on the spirit’s part. But that’s a conversation for another day.”
He lifts my chin with his finger, draws me towards him as though it were a dare.
“Something is going to happen between us, Skyla,” it comes out melodic like poetry embedded in that euphoric feeling he’s emanating—hot, like a pleasure filled brand.
“What was that vision you gave me?” I wanted to say I could never look so radiant, but those were the only words I could afford without gasping for air.
“That’s how I see you.” His breath pours over me warm and soft. “Would you like another?”
“No—none of them were worthy.”
“You might feel different about this one.”
He dives down with an intense wild kiss. Marshall is starved for physical attention, parched for something far more than I’ll ever be willing to give him.
I see it. It’s me, walking down a long white aisle with flower petals at my feet. There’s a man waiting for me at the end, he turns around.
It’s Logan.
***
At lunch, Ellis and I watch with disdain as Chloe struts over flanked by the bi
tch squad.
“I hear your boyfriend’s going to be OK,” I say to Chloe with a half smile. I like the thought of beating Chloe at her own game.
“My boyfriend?” Her eyes cut across me with caution.
“Yeah,” I sling an arm around Ellis. “I’m with Ellis now.”
She gives a long exasperated blink and drags me towards the English building like she owns me, which she does, at least until I kill her again.
I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, she says, but I’m getting really tired of hearing stories of you and Gage fucking on the beach, fucking in the forest.
“What?” I hiss. If there are stories of me and Gage doing anything that remotely resembles fucking I sure as hell want to hear about it—oh wait.
“How did you know about the beach? The forest?” I snatch my arm back. We certainly weren’t fucking, but I like the fire it’s ignited in her, so I really don’t mind her thinking it. Judging by her seething anger, her heart is corroding at the thought of Gage touching me—wanting me that way.