Burn

  How could I ever be over Gage? I roll the thought around in my mind.

  “What do you think of his prophecy? About me marrying him? How could that be possible if I feel so strongly connected to you?”

  “It’s more than possible—part of the reason I backed off.”

  “So you don’t think we’re meant to be together?”

  “I do.” He reaches over and picks up my hand. “That’s what I find so wildly confusing about this.”

  “I think you’re turning this into some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. Is that possible?” Or maybe it’s Gage who’s doing that?

  “I don’t think so, but even if it were, how could we test the theory?”

  Marshall’s face blinks through my mind.

  “You’re probably right.” I try to fuzz out the thought of me kissing Dudley for a glimpse of the future. I won’t do that again…unless of course I want to test the theory. “Hey…” I turn to look at him. “You never really mentioned that book of Counts. Anyone we know in there?”

  “Brielle, Ellis, Natalie.” His eyes widen unexpectedly.

  “Yeah,” I bite down on my lip and consider it. “I’d like the names of those leaders who OK’d the killing of the Celestras.”

  “What for?”

  “I just want to know.”

  “I highly advise you don’t go around trying to off anybody. Especially since the other factions agreed to stay out of it for now.”

  “It’s my holy war.”

  “Civil war,” he leans over and mitigates me with a soft penetrating grin. “Ours. Yours and mine.”

  “Well, war and death go hand in hand. Don’t you watch the news?”

  “Yes, I realize that, and no, I don’t watch the news. Say you kill a few Counts, then what? What if they come after you—your family? Nicholas Havar was right—the risk outweighs the benefit.”

  “They killed my father.” The words float out like a morbid song. “I want the names, Logan. I want to know who they are and what kind of lives they live. I’m just curious, that’s all. At least let me educate myself on what I’m up against.”

  “OK.” He looks down introspectively. “My uncle was forwarded the names of those who were killed and their locations—we’ll work from there in figuring out who was responsible—for educational purposes.” He looks mournfully at me before staring off into the ever-darkening sky masked with a veil of precipitation.

  A comfortable silence wraps itself around us. The light is swallowed in shadows and the temperature drops, sharpening the air into icy bites.

  “I never should have sent you to, Gage,” he whispers with his eyes wide open as though he were sharing a private thought. “I really fucked things up.”

  I place my arm across his chest and hold back tears.

  “There was no other way, you couldn’t have kept me away from you.”

  “I don’t know about that. I can be pretty creative if I have to.” He rolls over and wraps his arm around my shoulders. I can see the hard edge of his jaw clench with frustration. “But it’s too late for that. This is how it’s going down. You’re going to marry Gage, and I drove you right to him.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Tutor Time

  After school on Thursday, my mother drives me straight to Mr. Dudley’s house for a tutoring session. I’m shocked to see Michelle walking a horse back to the barn.

  “I stopped seeing her. I didn’t fire her.” Marshall comes near the window. “You think I’d keep her around for kicks then unemploy her because she’s no longer capable of satisfying me? That’s Draconian.”

  “You should marry her. Make an honest woman out of her.” Too bad she’s wicked. Come to think of it, he’s not too far off the mark. “What’s this?” I walk over to a silver blade suspended over the fireplace. It has the same metal handle fashioned to look like a rope—it’s a twin to the one that stabbed me.

  He picks it up and fondles it briefly before presenting it to me.

  “Special issue from the King of Glory.”

  “What does special issue mean?”

  “It means not everyone in the celestial sphere is running around with one of these.” He points to the back of the handle, at the symbol of a hand. “Tap it, just once, and think about igniting it.”

  I do, and the knife glows a soft shade of blue.

  “Wow. I hate to break it to you, but they sell these things at the mall. I think Drake has a light up sword in his room.” In fact, I’m fairly certain.

  “Satan is the great imitator isn’t he? This isn’t light, Skyla—it’s power.”

  “Like a laser beam or something?”

  “Like a fry you from the inside out, or something,” he mimics. “It’s made for spiritual warfare not humans, but works either way. Disempowers a spirit for days—it’s fatal when it comes to people.” He takes the dagger from me. “Only the original set contains this power. It’s a spirit sword.” He places it back over the fireplace.

  “What if you accidentally touch it the wrong way and it goes off and kills you?”

  “It won’t. First, you have to know it’s there and use it intentionally. It’s a living thing. The spirit sword won’t kill you—its aim is the enemy.”

  “Is it a painful death?”

  “Quick and complete. Almost instant.”

  “You fight in a lot of wars?”

  “Everyday is a different battle, Skyla. I’m fighting one right now.” He arches his brows at me.

  “You won’t win. Gage wins.” I continue to gaze up at the dagger.

  “How do you know Gage isn’t telling you stories?” He steps in front of me, too close for comfort.

  I hadn’t thought of that before. What if this whole self-fulfilling prophecy thing is something conceived by his imagination? Doubtful.

  “Are you ready to see your dress?” His eyes reduce to smoldering slits.

  “I can’t go to homecoming. Tad says so.”

  “You’ll be there.” He motions for me to follow him up the wide sweeping staircase. A set of double doors off the main hall leads to an enormous room with a giant bed. The furniture is black and heavily lacquered.

  I fall onto his bed backwards as he disappears deep inside the closet. Stretching my arms out, I fan them, making an impression of angel wings on the soft brown comforter. Brielle and Michelle have both been up here—so weird. It feels strange being in a teacher’s room, even if he is a Sector.

  “I was going to have you try on the dress, but looks like you have a much better idea in mind.” He lands hard next to me.

  There’s a light knock at the door, and Michelle steps in looking like she got in a fight with a bale of hay. Her hair is frazzled, and her clothes are covered with pale yellow and green sticks. The look really completes that bat-shit crazy attitude of hers.

  “I thought maybe I could use the shower.” She just stands there looking as though I had slapped her from all the way across the room.

  “That would be inappropriate,” Marshall snips. “Would you mind shutting the door? We’re a bit busy.”

  She whips out the room, quick as a poltergeist, doesn’t bother shutting the door.

  “Doesn’t follow directions well, does she?” He muses.

  “You’re brutal.”

  He lays the dress over me like a blanket and I think I could fall asleep.

  “Save a dance for me,” he whispers.

  “Don’t you think it’ll look bad? You dancing with a student?”

  “Nonsense, I’ll be dancing with students all night. You’ll simply be one of many.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Well then, there’s always hell to pay.”

  ***

  My mother comes into my room in the morning as I’m getting dressed. I’ve barely had time to pull on my jeans. I snatch the scarf off my bed and fling it around my neck, and hide my swollen hand behind me to ensure no hospital visit lies in my future. I can hardly move my fingers today.

  ?
??Morning.” She comes in, closes the door behind her. “Just wanted to apologize. Everyone is under so much stress these days, and it’s hard when you’re trying to have a baby and things aren’t moving as quickly as you’d like.”

  “Does everyone include Tad?”

  “Yes,” she whispers as if it were a well-kept secret before sitting on the bed. “I know how hard it’s been for you, and I know you were really looking forward to homecoming. First year at a new school, great boyfriend, new job… a lot of things are changing for you right now.”

  She’s going to cave! A spike of adrenaline bursts through me.

  “I swear if you let me go, I’ll never ditch school again. Honest.” I hold my hand out like I’m making a pledge.

  “I’m sorry, Honey. Tad is firm on this.”

  “What about you? Are you firm on this?”

  “You left school without permission.” She shrugs. “You hurt yourself, Skyla.” She motions towards my hand. “And what were you and Gage doing anyway? Were the two of you having sex?” Her head tilts to the side as she presses me with those petal green eyes.

  Oh my, God.

  I’d rather die than have this conversation.

  “No.” My voice hikes up higher than it needs to. “I’ve never even done anything. Believe me, I’m as innocent as you can get.”

  “I don’t need details. I just want to make sure you’re using protection.” Her eyes narrow into mine.

  “Geez.” I throw my hands up over my ears and close my eyes. “I said I’m not doing it. I don’t need protection because there’s nothing to protect me from.” The only thing I need protection from is Fems, and blood sucking Counts, but that’s a different story.

  “Well good, I’m glad to hear that. I think a girl your age needs to think long and hard before inviting someone into her body.”

  A tremble of laughter swells in my chest.

  Invite? I picture myself handing Gage a formal invitation with the letters S-E-X embossed in some swirly font across the front.

  “I will.” I bite down hard on my lip. “I’ll think long and hard.” And now I want to explode with laughter because I just included the words long and hard in a conversation about sex with my mother. “I will totally do it.” Shit! I press my lips together unable to hide the stupid grin on my face.

  She gets up and gives me a warm, lingering hug.

  “There is so precious little we can save of ourselves, better to save it for that perfect person. Just think about waiting.” She makes it to the door. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if your special person was Gage. I think I can really see this.” She gives a mischievous smile. “Engaged.”

  “Funny.” My features smooth out at the lack of humor in it.

  She shuts the door tight behind her.

  I press my hand against the plywood that covers the hole where my window once stood. I can feel the world come alive on the other side, the rain needling its intense vibrations.

  Even my mother thinks I’m going to marry Gage. It’s beginning to feel like a conspiracy.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Homecoming

  The field is damp from the shower we had earlier, but tonight there’s not a veil of fog, not a dark cloud up above, just the crisp arctic chill I’ve become accustomed to.

  Ms. Richards lets us do free style for the rest of the game. It’s the end of the second quarter, and the West Paragon Dawgs are up by six. There’s only one more game in the season, and it’s an away game. I’m so psyched about this I can hardly stand it. Away, as in away from Mom and Tad, away from conversations about weird sexual invites. I totally need to get away.

  The homecoming floats are driven onto the field. It’s surreal being here knowing I’ve time traveled to last year’s homecoming game with Ellis on more than one occasion. I half expect Chloe to step up on that platform in her powder blue dress.

  I’m so winded I stop moving. My arms and legs feel like rubber and it takes everything in me not to collapse on the field.

  Principle Rice taps the microphone and a loud obtrusive hum threatens to blow our eardrums out from over the speakers.

  She starts in and introduces a row of girls in frilly dresses.

  God—my mother could have dressed them. I don’t really know who they are, mostly seniors. The principle crowns a king, some guy I don’t know either but everyone screams for, then with a bit more fanfare a queen. All the while I can’t stop thinking about Chloe. Ellis wants to go back tonight and refresh his stash—odd day to go, if you ask me.

  Michelle motions for us to pick up the free kicks, so we do. It takes everything in me to rotate and bounce for the crowd, even a smile seems impossible to produce with this drenching fatigue.

  Skyla. Marshall waves briefly from the front row bleachers. Kick higher, I can’t see your panties.

  I turn away from him abruptly. Can’t see my panties? What an ass. I’m wearing kick-pants, but information like that seems beside the point with someone like him.

  I’ve offended you. I apologize. Kick-pants aside, I have another vision I’d like to share.

  I keep forgetting he can hear me now that I’ve bled down to a simpleton. I hate the fact I’ve ebbed away my powers.

  No thanks. The last thing I need to be doing is kissing Marshall on a regular basis.

  It’s about the one who dumped you. It’s a rather intriguing scenario I think you’d better see for yourself.

  I think I’ll pass.

  I look across the field and see Logan getting ready to put back on his helmet. He lasers through me with a penetrating stare. I stop all movement and gaze right back at him. Just looking at Logan makes everything else melt away like a bad dream.

  The coach whistles, and he’s gone, lost in the crowd of bodies once again.

  Everything feels so temporary.

  I start to feel weak again, the ground feels like it’s rolling in waves and I steady myself a minute so I don’t pass out. My hands loosen and the pom-poms slip right through my fingers, just like Logan.

  Come to me, Skyla. This vision brings you peace, not to mention the pleasure of my company.

  No. If Logan would rather I be with Gage then that’s what he’s going to get.

  ***

  After the game, Brielle insists on changing at my house for the homecoming dance.

  “Brought you something!” She barks out a laugh as though it were hysterical.

  “Keep it down.” She’s already wasted, and it’s just barely nine.

  Mom and Tad think I’m alone, that I’m already tucked in bed crying over the fact I’m not going to the dance. Brielle screeching and screaming isn’t going to help me sneak out any faster. I swear, teaching Brielle how to navigate the wonderful world of the butterfly room has brought me nothing but sleepless nights and well, this.

  “Here.” She produces a black velvet choker sprayed with smoky grey rhinestones. “It’s totally hot, plus it’ll cover that thing that looks like a zipper on your neck.”

  “I got the stitches out,” I say, taking off my scarf and trading it for said hot necklace thingy. “This is so awesome!” It glitters with the slightest movement.

  I pull on the dress Marshall gave me and turn to look in the full-length mirror attached to my closet door.

  “Skyla!” She gasps.

  It’s form fitting. To call it short would underestimate the actual breathtaking length that cuts off just below my underwear.

  “This is not good,” I lament.

  “Didn’t you try it on?”

  “No.” I give a hard exhale.

  “Here.” Brielle tugs a little, and it gives enough to look semi-decent.

  “At least I won’t get arrested.” I turn in the mirror and take a look at it from behind. It’s backless as far down as it can go, save for rows and rows of dark metallic chains crisscrossing from one side to the other.

  “It is so freaking hot on you!” Brielle slaps her mouth after she shrieks the words out.

  “It
’s going to get freaking shitty when my mom busts through the door.” I push my finger up to my lips. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Drake left an hour ago, giving Mom and Tad yet more false assurance I wasn’t going. Really he’s just next door. He parked around the corner to hide his car and he’s watching TV with Bree’s mom.

  We call Drake and let him know we’re coming. I push the dresser securely in front of the door before helping Brielle up into the butterfly room.

  It’s freezing outside. The cold fingers of the wind coil themselves around the chains on my back, and turn them into ice against my bare flesh.

  “Hey.” She points down to my feet. “You forgot your shoes.”

  “Crap.” That means I have to hurdle three rooflines and crawl all the way back into the attic.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got the perfect pair to lend you.” Brielle’s whole person ignites with a burst of energy. “I wore them my first time. Maybe you’ll get lucky?”

  “Doubtful.” I haven’t sent out the invitation yet.

  Logan cycles through my mind. Then again, he probably doesn’t want it. I thought he’d at least fight for me—I thought he’d die trying.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Put on Your Red Shoes

  Red patent leather pumps with four-inch heels. I feel ridiculous.

  Drake drives us down to the Paragon Beach Resort through a moonless night. A harsh wind has evicted the fog, and thousands upon thousands of crystalline stars pour out their glory in a choir of radiant luminescence.

  The resort is lit up like a jewel, glowing and polished. A trail of limos stretch a half a block long, but in an effort to avoid valet and parking fees, Drake parks at the Jack-in-the-Box across the street.

  I pull Brielle in tight as we make our way over to the cobbled pathway that leads to the entrance of the hotel. “There are tons of people here!”

  “They’re from East. We do all the big stuff like prom and shit on the same night.”

  “Nice.” My stomach does a harsh roll.

  The entry is comprised of ornate carved marbled. Giant stone lions keep watch on either side with their fixed sterile gaze.