I find this doubtful.
I don’t dare go in the house alone, instead, I secure myself to Gage and hold my breath as though I were heading into a minefield.
“Here she is!” Tad shouts craning his neck up towards the stairs.
My mother glides down in her pink bathrobe, the flap opening with every other step.
“Where were you?” She slits the words out.
“I was,” I look uneasily towards Gage, “with Brielle.” Is that right?
“Ha!” Tad barks pointing a finger at me. “See this, Lizbeth? We fork over hundreds of dollars for a birthday party, and she thanks us by blatantly spending the night with her boyfriend!”
Brielle and Drake come racing down the stairs, then abruptly turn around when they see me in the doorway.
Great.
“Mia ran next door to tell you something early this morning.” Imposter Mom hitches her hair behind her ear. “Darla said you weren’t there. What’s going on? Did you spend the night at the Oliver’s? Just the truth please.”
I look to Gage for answers. The truth is I don’t ever want to speak to these people again. In fact, I want nothing more than to rush upstairs and pack all of my crap and never lay eyes on any of them, not even Mia who I totally suspect turned me in on purpose because she’s a maniacal little Count.
“OK, let’s try this another way.” Mom’s voice spikes a little. “Gage—did Skyla spend the night at your house?”
“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate.
I firm my grip on his hand and move in a little closer. A sharp bite of perspiration explodes all over me at once, and for the first time ever I’m nervous just standing here, in the entry with the people I thought I knew so well.
“That’s too simplistic,” Tad scolds. “Were you in a hotel? His car? On the beach?”
“We weren’t together at all. I spent the night at Mr. Dudley’s.” I head upstairs to my room and pull Gage behind me.
“We’re going to finish this later!” The sound of my mother’s voice fills the void between the walls and sends a tremble of fear through me—as though it means something—as though a part of me still considers her an authority figure in my life.
I lock the door behind us, then push the dresser completely over the entry and give a mock smile. Now that I know they’re Counts I realize they can bust through, easy as toilet paper.
“You’re in deep.” Gage wraps his arms around me. A soft rumble of laughter ripples through his chest.
“They’re not my parents. Do you think there’s some kind of youth hostile on the island I can hole up in?”
“No, I don’t, nor would I send you there.”
“Can I live in the doghouse with Charlie? I won’t even eat food.”
“Charlie doesn’t have a doghouse. He’s an indoor dog, and you have to eat food. You were designed to be filled with delicious hot meals.” His dimples ignite on either side, and my stomach bottoms out.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For?”
“For making me feel safe.” I pull him over to the bed, and we sit down. Everything about my room feels foreign now as though it belonged to another girl—a girl who believed anything anybody told her. I feel lost, like the whole planet is swaying, and Gage is the only anchor to keep me from flying out into the atmosphere.
“I’ll always be here for you.” He tucks his head into my shoulder and gives my neck a string of soft kisses.
“Oh, hey.” I pull back a notch. “Did you have a sister?”
“Did I have a sister?” He gives a quick blink. “Yes,” he says, looking confused. “She died when I was five.”
“And she was three.” A surge of tears brim to the surface. “I’m sorry.”
“What about her?”
“I was at Marshall’s and this girl, she looked at lot like you, she came to the door and said she was your sister.” I tell him about the bizarre encounter. “And I think it really was her.”
His eyes glitter as fresh crimson tracks explode.
“I wish I could have been there,” he whispers.
“Yeah well, I have this distinct feeling she’ll be back. Don’t leave my side, and you won’t miss her.” I pull him up towards the headboard with me. “You know when I said I thought it was good idea to slaughter all the Counts?”
“No, but go ahead.”
“OK, so I may have been thinking it. Anyway, I had no idea it was going to include just about everyone, but you.”
“Do you really think Tad and your mom are aware of this? That they’re after you?”
“I don’t know what to think. For sure I don’t want to find out the hard way. Chloe arranged for us to end up on Paragon. Maybe Tad’s in on it—that I’ll believe every day of the week. And to be honest, it might explain some of Mom’s strange behavior. Anyway, I don’t want to call her Mom. She’s not my mother. I’m going to take a nice little light drive one day soon and visit my dad. He’ll explain things to me.”
Gage looks away briefly and scratches at his cheek.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Yes, it’s something.”
“It’s just that I got stuck the last time we were there.” He gives a wry smile. “I’m not letting go of you.”
“Deal.”
A rumble erupts in the hall. Voices escalate—Tad and Mom’s.
“How dare you say that,” My mother’s voice muffles through the wall, “when your son also happens to be locked up in his bedroom with his girlfriend!”
“For your information, they’re watching TV,” Tad booms back.
“Yeah, well you know what we do when we’re watching TV.” Her voice is hard.
“I trust my son.” I can hear his footsteps stomping down the hall towards their bedroom.
“And I trust my daughter!” She storms after him.
“See?” Gage nudges me. “She thinks of you as her daughter. She’s sticking up for you. That’s perfectly acceptable behavior.”
“It’s probably just an act.” I shrink into his arms. “And by the way, some creatures find it perfectly acceptable behavior to eat their young.”
Chapter Nine
Dinner with the Devil
I barely escape the grasp of my faux parents as Gage and I head over to the Bishop’s for dinner. Apparently Mom called Marshall who, in turn, fed her a load of crap about my whereabouts last night and now all is seemingly right with the world.
“Hey,” I whisper to Gage as we head up the walkway to the Bishop’s house. “Maybe I can have Marshall convince my parents that I should live with him?”
“No.” He gives a stern look. “Logan told me about that dream. Marshall is a predator.”
Gage looks magical under the three quarter moon. I push up on the balls of my feet and press a kiss into him.
The door opens, and Chloe appears like a stain in the night.
Her lips curve up unnaturally, and her brows peak skyward. It’s a demented feat that only a person with evil flowing through their veins can achieve.
Oh wait, that’s my blood running through her veins. She’s evil nonetheless.
The Oliver’s car is already in the driveway, so is Logan’s truck. He and Chloe have probably been strategizing how to best ruin my life and take over the world.
“I’ve been waiting.” Her voice sounds almost hypnotic. “Happy birthday!” Chloe takes Gage by the hand and bounces us inside.
The Bishop home is normal, normal in size and contents in comparison to my own home with the exception that it smells divine.
“Everyone, you remember Gage.” Chloe fans her hands over him like she’s presenting him to the Queen of England.
“Yes, and you must be Skyla!” A tall brunette with a slight pug nose embraces me. She gives a rocking hug for so long that I’m half convinced we’re slow dancing to the instrumental music playing in the background. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing back my precious baby girl. Anything you ever need, just name it
and I’ll do it for you.” She pulls back and examines my face. Her lips quiver with gratitude. And for a frightening moment I almost ask if I could live with her.
“I’m Hal, and this is Glendora.” A tall man with broad shoulders and a handlebar mustache comes around the table and gives a quick embrace. “Anything we can do for you, we’re eternally grateful.”
Wow, Chloe has nice parents. Like really nice. The apple must have rolled way far away from the apple tree, to an entirely different hemisphere for this to be possible.
It’s dark in the formal dining room, and it’s not until I strain my vision that I see Dr. Oliver and Emma waving to me, lost in murky shadows.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Glendora ushers both Gage and I over to the other side of the table. I try to sit next to him, but Chloe guides me over two seats.
“Follow the name plates,” she says it cool as though the nameplates themselves were responsible for the geography of the seating arrangements and not her manipulative self.
The name Skyler is scrawled out on a folded piece of parchment in between Logan and her mother.
I pull a face and sit down next to him.
“Hello,” he whispers.
He’s got two dark circles under his eyes thanks to Marshall, but for the most part he looks like his brutally handsome self.
Gage is seated far to my left, so I can’t even see him without leaning in past Logan.
A group of waitresses stream out from the kitchen each carrying a covered dome and erase all illusions I had of Chloe’s family being normal. They stand in a neat row like a drone army of servants.
First, I’ve never seen real women wear French maid’s costumes like the one Gage picked out for me at Halloween at any restaurant, let alone at someone’s house. And second, I half expect a hand to pop up when the lid comes off the dome that was just set in front of me.
But there is no hand, there’s cubed steak, undercooked—correction raw, sitting in its own juices, and oddly there’s nothing else to go with it. Clearly these people are insane. I mean couldn’t we start off with a nice salad? That is, until I notice that everyone else is starting off with a nice salad.
“Skyla,” her mother purrs into me, “I thought you might need something to bring back your iron levels. I’m a nutritionist by trade, and I designed this meal just for you. It’s steak tartare.”
Gah!
I stare down at my food expecting it to moo or scream or slither away leaving a bloody trail.
“It’s wine,” Logan whispers.
“What?” I ask confused. There’s not enough wine in the world to make me eat this bowl of rancid meat.
Emma and Glendora seem completely accepting of my meal as they engage in a titillating conversation regarding the nutritional value of blood.
“It’s marinated in wine.” Logan gives a brief smile. “You might like it.” The right side of his face depresses unnaturally. Oddly it makes him more attractive in a rouge— bad boy sort of way.
“If you like it so much you eat it,” I whisper.
Without warning my hand dips into the bloody mixture and sloshes it around.
“Oh God,” I whisper. Before I know it, I’m inadvertently chucking pieces at Dr. Oliver and Glendora and Hal. I snatch up my fork and stab violently into the largest portion, catapulting it at Chloe.
“Skyla!” Dr. Oliver stands and brushes off his white dress shirt with a napkin.
“I’m so sorry! I can explain.” My hand jerks forward and forces me to pick up the wine bottle off the center of the table, causing my arm to gyrate from the heft of it. “No, Holden please!” My body rises. I’m pushed over to Chloe who’s cowering in the corner and I douse her with it.
A series of screams and groans emits from behind as Gage and Logan restrain me like I’m some sort of a lunatic.
“It was a total accident.” I call over my shoulder, but by the time I turn around everyone has disbanded into the kitchen complaining of permanent stains, and I swear I hear Emma say something about trouble following me around like a rabid dog.
“If you didn’t want to eat it you could have said so.” Chloe spits the words in my face.
“It’s Holden Kragger’s ghost,” I hiss. “I killed him just like I killed you.”
“You killed Holden?” There’s a promise of a smile on her lips. “I almost respect you.”
Dr. Oliver and Emma step out from the kitchen.
“We’re going to reschedule.” Emma smiles sweetly in my direction, as if she didn’t secretly hate me. Although, in her defense, I make it nearly impossible not to.
Glendora comes out and looks terrified at the sight of me. Her hand clutches at her neck as though I might snatch a steak knife off the table and slit her throat with it—little does she know that’s her daughter’s department.
“I guess I’ll run up and change. We should go someplace.” Chloe says it directly to Gage.
“Double date,” Gage says, heavy with sarcasm while eyeing Logan.
Chloe turns to face me fully. Her dark hair frames her sharp features. There’s something lurking beneath the surface of that condescending smile, something heartless—hazardous.
“We’ll go to Devil’s Peak.” She trails her fingers on the side of my face, pressing her lips to my ear. “I hope you’re wearing good shoes, Skyla. I hear it’s slippery up there—a fall like that could be fatal.”
Chapter Ten
If I Fall
The night glows a gentle shade of blue as the island drapes itself in the crystalline breath of God.
It’s cold out in the Bishop’s driveway. Thankfully I haven’t spilled too much blood or wine on myself, not that I was afforded to run upstairs and change into a sequins jumpsuit that reeks of my-mother-bought-it. Still, it looks pretty good on her. Chloe seems to be able to pull off just about anything—sequined jumpsuits, other people’s limbs and eyeballs—death.
“I’m driving with Gage,” Chloe announces it loud enough for her parents and the Olivers to hear. She knows full well they’re the only barricade keeping me from pulling her out of his car by the hair.
“It’s a two-seater,” I say. “You’d better go with Logan. I can’t drive in his truck. I’m allergic to the upholstery or something. Plus it smells like crap.” I add that last part under my breath. It doesn’t really—it’s just that every time Logan opens his mouth bullshit seems to fly out.
“Oh, Skyla, you’re so insecure.” She buckles herself into the passenger side of the car that Gage is still borrowing from his mom no thanks to me—well, Holden. “It’s just one way.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll hitch a ride back with Logan.” And with that she slams the door.
Logan and I follow Gage on the long desolate stretch of highway that leads back to the western portion of the island. The Bishop’s live way out in the middle of nowhere. It’s like her parents wanted to shelter themselves after that whole I killed their daughter thing went down.
“Isn’t it ironic that when we were together we were so afraid of being seen, and now that we’re not, here we are in your truck like it’s no big deal?” I say.
Logan glances over at me before rounding out his hand over the wheel.
“You’re with Gage. And when the faction war is over...” He expels a soft sigh.
“I’ll still choose Gage.”
He nods into the dark as though on some level he knows he should accept this, but the expression on his face is determined to do otherwise.
“I’m going to fight for you,” it comes out with angry overtones as he stares down the double yellow line in the road. “I’ll bring down the Counts, and Chloe, and every Sector in the universe that gets in my way without thinking twice.” He cuts a look in my direction. “I’m not interested in what the future has planned. I want to share everything with you, Skyla. I’m in love with you.”
My stomach does a soft roll. Logan knows how to say just what I want to hear just when I least need to hear it. He seems to have a real problem w
ith delivery, and timing, and bloodlines.
“Has Gage ever told you anything about you and me?” Gage seems to use his gift of knowing as sparingly as Logan does the truth.
“Just once.” He winces into the road as we pick up speed.
“Anything you want to share?”
“No,” he says it low, doesn’t say another word the rest of the way to Devil’s Peak.
***
Once we hit the parking lot, I fly out of the truck and rush over to Gage who’s standing there having some intense discussion with Chloe. A ton of kids from West are here just hanging out, smoking and drinking. It’s a lot like a party at Ellis’ house, minus the shelter.
“Hey you!” Brielle dive-bombs on top of me. “I’m spending the night.” She lets out a ripple of laughter.
“Are you drinking?” Suddenly I feel like the Count wellness protection program. I’m pretty sure Counts in the incubation stage shouldn’t consume alcohol and probably not those out of the incubation stage either.
“Nope. I’m the designated driver.” She leans in and whispers, “For the next six and a half months.”
Six and a half months to go?
I drop my gaze to her stomach, still flat as a textbook.
That means Marshall couldn’t be the father. That means my step-Count, a.k.a. the golden child of Landon manner, has officially knocked up his girlfriend. Suddenly I feel lighter than air, and a spontaneous smile breaks out on my face. For the first time, I’m actually looking forward to all of the drama that’s about to unfold, no thanks to Count Chocula senior’s lame ass supervision. I, for one, can’t wait to bear witness to Tad’s head exploding when he hears the news.
Of course, Gage will be practically living in my bedroom, which makes things almost better than OK at home.
Hey? Maybe faux-mom was right? I should send out that sexual invite to Gage real soon. OK, so maybe those weren’t her exact words, but it did go something like that.