Expel (14 page)

Chapter 22

Church on Time
 

I drive the Mustang out onto the strangled stretch of highway that knifes through Paragon proper. Between the dark shadows of the pines I can see the pounding surf, the hard white spray of the sea sift through the fog.

Mia insists on riding along. I’ve already warned her she needs to hitch a ride back with Mom and Tad. She doesn’t say a word about last night or her plans to do a relationship takedown with Gabriel Armistead. Instead, as soon as we hit the church foyer, she bolts into a group of kids her own age—more precisely over to a golden haired boy with a perpetual smile, who stands a head above the rest a.k.a. the perpetrator in question who’s messing with my sisters.

“A little young for you, wouldn’t you agree?” Demetri hovers over my shoulder wearing a black hat, trench coat to match. He plucks the fedora off his head and offers a hideous grin.

Before I can answer, Mom pops up beside me.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she tips her chest in as she says it.

“I was just about to invite Skyla to my grandfather’s estate. Why don’t you accompany her, Lizbeth? I’m afraid I may not have made the best impression. She seems to be having some hesitancy regarding her community service.”

“I would love to see your grandfather’s estate!” Her eyes spring wide like twin lanterns. “Name the time and day.” She wiggles with delight as if he just asked her to prom.

“Any day this week that you’re available. I’m subject to your schedule. You have my number. Just give me a call when you’re in the neighborhood.” He redirects his attention to me at a lethargic pace. He’s relishing this, I can tell. “Skyla, I have a feeling you and I are going to get along just fine.”

That’s funny—I have the distinct feeling we’re not.

I give a courteous nod before ducking into the sanctuary.

 
Faux Logan is sitting in our usual spot, leaning into Chloe as she whispers toxic sweet nothings into his ear.

Figures. She’s probably been coaching him on all things Logan since day one.

Brielle comes in and we take a seat together.
 

“Hey,” she scoots in until our shoulders touch. “Heads up, my mom is super pissed at your mom.”

“What?” I look over to where Mom is carrying on a deep and meaningful conversation with Demetri and her breasts.

Darla, Brielle’s mom, joins in on the fun. It looks natural, not at all catty or aggressive.

“What’s she pissed about?”

“She says all your mom cares about is you,” she huffs as though this were an outrage.

“So?”

“So? I’m the one having her grandchild. My mom wants me to go to that special clinic you went to when everyone thought you were knocked up. My mom said your family could care less if I gave birth out in a field with the help of a drunk ranch hand and a rusted out hoe.”

“That’s not true,” I swivel around in search for Drake. He’s the one who should be putting out this hormonal fire, not me. I spy him near the back, where both he and Ethan vie for Emily’s attention. I turn to look back at mom. “She’s really happy about the baby.” In all honesty, I don’t think I’ve heard her mention it once.

“Oh, good. I’ll let my mom know. She can call off the lawyer.”

“The what?” The last thing Mom and Tad need is some serious legal drama playing out. That’s precisely why I haven’t presented them with the cease and desist letter Pierce inflicted me with.

I look back over at the three of them. Both Mom and Darla glare in our direction. If I didn’t know better I’d swear they were both honing their hate-filled laser stares right at me.

“Looks like your Mom is really ticked,” I whisper.

“Yeah, well, she’s not your biggest fan right now. She thinks your parents favor you over Drake, but I’ll set her straight.”

Ironic, how the only one not scowling in my direction is Demetri—only I don’t find it ironic at all.

He offers a maniacal smile exclusive to villains and heinous Fems the world over.

He’s screwing with Mom, and he’s screwing with Darla.

I bet if he has his way, he’ll burn the whole lot of us to the ground, the way he did my father.

***

 
After church I make a beeline over to Marshall’s quaint ten thousand foot abode.

A strange wind picks up, jostles the branches of the Juniper trees, makes them wave their branches quick and spasmodic. It’s unnatural, unearthly…

“Logan?” I whisper to myself. I bet that was him, scratching against the window that night in Gage’s bedroom, he probably set out his letterman jacket for me to see, broke the key off in the lock when Gage and I wanted to be alone, christened us with a fallen branch in the middle of a kiss.

I huff a laugh.

Ellis and the fountain, Holden kissing me in the truck and the music exploding in our ears that first night he came back—that was all Logan trying his hardest to preserve his love for me.

I return my focus to the road as I pull into Marshall’s expansive driveway. I thought for sure I’d see him at church this morning. I just assumed there was some law that stipulated he, rise and shine, and give God his glory, glory each and every Sunday.

 
I give three solid knocks at the door and wait before jiggling the knob trying to let myself in. It’s cold outside, the kind of chill that knifes through each layer of clothing easy as butter.

The door swings open and I gasp at the sight of him.

“Marshall?”

“Ms. Messenger.” His skin is illuminated bright as a glow stick, as if he overslept in a radioactive tanning bed.

If he can’t control the bizarre condition then I completely understand the reason he sequestered himself from public view. A florescent facade would certainly be fodder for gossip amongst the congregation.

He escorts us deep into his living room.

“I didn’t see you at church today,” I say, in lieu of firing off a half a dozen sarcastic remarks about his phosphorescent skin condition.

“Feeling high and mighty are we? I gave accounting at the throne,” he growls, “thus the unearthly brilliance. I dare say I’ve trumped you in all matters spiritual, this day and every other. What can I help you with?”

“I think you know,” a marked irritation spikes in me. I don’t appreciate the never-ending supply of head games Marshall indulges in.

“Clue me in, Love. I’m rather irritated at the moment.” His hair gleams like gold floss, his chiseled features blush a burnished bronze. Marshall could kill with his razor sharp looks—only he decided to use a car.

“You did this to Logan.” I go to push him in the chest, and he catches me by the wrist.

“Enough with the childish antics,” he reprimands, tossing my hand back. “I’ve spent the last interim of my existence defending you.”

“Defending me? To who?”

“The Sector alliance, your mother—
God himself
,” he seethes.

My heart lurches.

I thought
I
was the pissed off one in this conversation, obviously I’m sadly mistaken.

Marshall launches his fist into the piano, causing a magnificent explosion of sound. The entire framework splinters and lands the piano in pieces on the ground as if a bomb went off.

“Hey! I liked that thing,” I shout, trying to inject a little semblance of sanity into the moment.

Marshall glares at the damaged instrument, and, as if in obedience, it magically rights itself and returns to its black lacquered splendor.

OK—if that was a show of prowess to make me aware of who exactly it is I’m messing with, he’s got my undivided attention.

“Why were you defending me?” My entire demeanor softens. I touch his cheek, marveling at his radiance, and he storms off in the other direction.

“You surrendered region one in less than five minutes!” His voice booms in a fit of rage. “It’s obvious we’re going to have to conduct a strict level of combat training. I’ll start by drilling into you something you seem to be lacking—a commitment for the cause.”

“Logan and Gage—”

He cuts me off, “Your hormonal overdrive has placed us in jeopardy.”

“They were
dying
!” I roar.

“Precisely why they weren’t brought into the offensive.” He gives a long blink. “Skyla, out of love I gave you the discs—to your mother’s protest I gave you those life saving sensors. She wanted you caged in each battle like a corporeal beast. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“No,” I take a step back, alarmed at his anger-induced passion. “I really don’t.”

“Skyla, you were in no mortal danger. No matter how long the battle would have waged you would have been returned to the exact time in the evening from which you were taken. There was no point in squandering the disc let alone handing the Fems victory on a platter.” He glares. “They’re beyond recognition, what with all of the spiritual high fives—ego’s the size of small planets.” He spears me with his copper eyes. “To say there is rampant disappointment in the celestial sphere over your actions, would be modest. Of course, the blame has been pinned square on my shoulders.” He straightens, looking out the window at the corral in the distance.

“Why you?”

“I afforded you the opportunity,” he whispers it in shame. “If it weren’t for me you would have fought like the warrior you were born to be. I’ve taken what could have been your greatest moment and reduced it to nothing short of an act of cowardice.”

“It wasn’t cowardice. It was love,” I correct. “I
love
Logan and Gage. I’d give up the entire universe for them.”

“Congratulations, Skyla,” Marshall pins me with a glacial stare. “You just may have.”

Chapter 23

Out of My Head

I head straight over to Gage after Marshall’s spectacular meltdown. I’ve never seen him so livid. A storm has moved in. The rain outside falls in long teardrop spears, pressing themselves against the foggy window of Gage’s bedroom.

I snuggle into Gage as we watch an old movie that I actually saw in the theatre with my father a bazillion years ago. I miss my father with an irrepressible sadness. It’s his unjust murder that drives me to win the faction war, to put the Counts and Fems and any other demonic form of being in its place for what they’ve done to him.

Gage dips a kiss down over my eyebrow as he pulls me closer to him.

“We need to plan a serious Valentine’s do-over,” he punctuates the idea by circling his thumb on the inside of my palm.

“You’re on.” I flatten my lips against his and just lay there, listening to the sound of his breathing, taking in his clean scent.

“So where did you leave things with Dudley?” He looks at me with great intensity from one eye to the other. The slight veil of fear and jealousy lurks in his question.

 
“That was it,” I say, looking around the room for signs of Logan. I told Gage all about my visit to Marshall’s. So much happened that I forgot to bring up Logan’s bodily debacle—the reason I went there to begin with. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” he lets out a breath. “Looks like I would have been better off dying and letting the Counts resurrect me,” he finishes it off with a deep guttural cough.

“Don’t you ever say that,” I run my hand up his sweatshirt and lay my palm against his hot stomach. Not only do I not want to hear about Gage’s death wish, he wouldn’t qualify in terms of a resurrection.

I make lazy figure eights on his skin and feel his muscles contract and spasm as I trickle over them. “I can’t believe we’re free of you know who.” I don’t dare say Chloe’s name out loud in the event she’s got Fem operatives on patrol in the vicinity.

“You and me both. We can finally focus on one another and nothing else.” Gage gives a searing kiss, branded by his love. “By the way,” he pulls back and examines me with a placid smile, “she called today.”

“Oh?” I push up on my elbow. Something tells me Chloe is about to inject her pointy shoe right into my rear in a big way. Trying to keep Chloe out of our lives is like trying to put out a fire with gasoline, sooner or later our world is going to blow. I can feel it deep in my bones. In fact, Chloe Bishop would make a gasoline fire seem like a welcome reprieve from her wrath. There is really no comparing her wickedness.

“I guess she’s been working at the bowling alley while we’ve been disposed.” He bites down as if he’s keeping something from me.

“Brielle mentioned it.” Crap, I bet she’s done some amazing business move like tying the pizza kitchen to every lunch program on the island, and now the bowling alley is going to make millions all thanks to her stroke of genius.

“Yeah,” he gives a soft cough, sounds like pennies rattling away at the bottom of his lungs. “Did Brielle happen to mention Logan’s been helping himself to the safe and that payroll and bills haven’t been paid this month?”

I pluck my hand out of his shirt.

“Oh my, God.” Logan is going to lose the bowling alley no thanks to Holden and his dumbass buffoonery. “We need to sit him down and have an intervention. I mean, I’m all for living life to the fullest, but he’s got this whole live it up thing ass backwards. He’s going to end up in such major debt, the next death wish around here will be his.” Although, knowing Holden, somehow I find this doubtful. I’m sure he has no problem running both his new business and new body into the ground. Forget debt, he’ll have the clap by the time prom rolls around—flesh eating clap. “Did Chloe mention anything else?”

He shakes his head.

She’s such a kiss up. I could have told Gage those things, but I didn’t want to stress him out. It looks like I’m going to have a one on one with my least favorite nemesis, clue her in on the fact she’s going to land Gage in the hospital. If she cares anything at all about him, she’ll stay the hell away. Like that would ever happen. Chloe’s going to keep up the good little snitch routine as long as she thinks it’ll score some major brownie points with my future husband.

I take in a breath and look up at Gage.

“You’re quiet,” he eyes me with suspicion. “I’m sorry I brought her up.”

“No, it’s OK. I’m glad you did. It made me realize something important.”

“What’s that?” His dimples depress in a smile all their own. He coils a lock of my hair around his finger with great care as he awaits my answer.

“How special you are to me. How we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together.” I draw him a map with my kisses rather than expend any more energy on words that could never do what lies ahead for us, justice. Gage runs his hands up the back of my sweater, swivels around to the front with one long hot stroke. He lifts his shirt and lays his bare stomach over mine. A sharp bite of heat bisects my insides and I moan from the pleasure of his touch.

Gage is my future and Chloe’s past. It’s about time I clued her in on those two facts.

***

Later, as I get into the Mustang to head home, I text Chloe to arrange a tête-à-tête and lo and behold, horror of all horrors, she texts back that she’s at my freaking house. Probably crop dusting my bedroom with strychnine at this very moment.

I race down the solvent streets of Paragon, through the beginnings of a major downpour and bolt into the house, out of breath and soaking wet.

“Skyla!” My mother pauses at the kitchen counter and gasps at my appearance. Her fingers freeze midflight with a slice of pizza in her hands.

I find Chloe seated beside Ethan at the island. Next to them, Brielle and Drake wolf down their lunch, as if all is well in Landon manner. Looks like the queen of all bitches is conquering new territory.

“What’s going on?” I speed over to the four of them.

“You’ll have to excuse Skyla,” Tad shouts over to Chloe. “She’s prone to rude spontaneous outbursts.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” Chloe doesn’t miss a beat.

“Get your own,” Ethan shields his pizza as if I were about to swipe it right out of his mouth. I bet it’s a kneejerk reaction to the lifestyle he indulged in while living on the streets. Little does he know, the monster that knifed him sits dutifully by his side, and she’d be happy to steal more than the artery blocker he’s about to inhale.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I yank him up by the elbow and drag him out to the hall.

“What?” He shakes me loose, genuinely perturbed. “Make it quick. I’m starved.”

“Why is Chloe here?” God, I hope he says something logical that might officially warrant her presence, like an unforeseen yet, oh so necessary, assassination.

“She’s hanging out. I kind of like her.” He looks past my shoulder back into the family room.

I pull him deeper into the hall by force.

“Are you out of your mind? She disemboweled you to further her own personal agenda. She thinks of everything and everyone as an object to get what she wants. Nothing good is going to come of this. Chloe is nothing more than a parasite,” I say that last part a little louder than intended.

“I have a plan.” He darts into me deliberately with his beady Landon eyes, and for a split second he looks like Drake’s evil twin.

“To do what? Blackmail her? Drink her blood? I’ve heard it all before none of it works. She’s an unstoppable force of destruction.”

“I’m going to date her,” he blinks into his admission.

“What?” I screech. Ethan Landon is proving to be an entire stack of stupid.

“She’s totally into me.” He shrugs, clearly flattered by Chloe’s sobering lies. For one, Ethan looks nothing like Gage, and for two, still not Gage.

“What about Emily?” I ask, grasping for straws.

“She’s OK. But she doesn’t quite dovetail into my agenda the way Chloe does.”

“What agenda?”

He walks back into the kitchen, leaving me hanging.

I follow him back and grab a plate, slap a piece of pizza on it with the cheese sliding off.

“How’s Gage feeling?” Mom asks while shouldering into Tad as though she didn’t log time with Demetri at the barbaric stone of sacrifice.

Chloe twitches when she says his name. She might get thrown into a full-blown seizure if we actually conduct an entire conversation about him. On second thought…

“Gage is fine. He’s feeling better. We’re going to get together later this week and have a Valentine’s do-over.” I watch Chloe as I take a seat at the table, a safe distance away. She lowers her lids before glinting back up at me with those torches of fire. Messing with Chloe like this is like soaring too close to the sun. It might feel good for a moment but before you realize it you’ve reduced yourself to ashes.

“That’s nice,” Chloe chokes the words out. “I was thinking,” she clears her throat. The protective hedge glimmers prideful around her neck. It conforms to the hills and valleys of her throat as if it were contemplating strangulation. Now that would be an irony I could appreciate. “I think we should have a get together this Saturday, at my house.” She says that last part as though she were setting out a trap. “You know, just couples.” She lowers her lids seductively over at Ethan when she says it.

Gag me.

Hang me.

Send me to Ezrina’s so she can detach me limb by limb rather than watch this monstrosity unfold. Clearly the one with an evil agenda here is Chloe, not Ethan. If his idea of taking out revenge on someone is
dating
them, clearly he is Tad’s begotten, yet slightly forgotten, seed. Hey, maybe that’s why Tad married my mother? Revenge.

“That’s great!” Brielle beams. “I so need a do-over Valentine’s, too. I ended up puking all night and leaving early while Drake here, saw a late movie with Emily,” she says her name with an acidic tongue.

“Drake?” I gape at him. How could he? But I thought I saw his car at the falls? But that would mean…

“What?” He over dramatizes a shrug. “It was a coincidence. We were at the theatre at the same time, that’s all.”

Drake seems to suffer from the same dumbass disorder that his father and brother before him, do.

I look over Tad and Mom making googly eyes at each other and try not to hurl my cheeseless pizza at them.

“What about our camping trip?” I look to the two of them to save Ethan from the atrocity of date night with Chloe. There’s no way in hell Gage and I are going.

“Canceled.” Mom shivers when she says it as if she herself had just staved off some grievous horror, which she totally did. “Besides, I have an appointment at the clinic, and if the weather is this nasty, we might have to pull an overnighter,” she coos into Tad.

OK. I’ve had enough repulsion to suppress my appetite for the rest of my natural life.

An ebony lacquered bracelet dangles from Mom’s wrist. It harnesses my attention with a gold symbol emblazoned on the side.

“Nice bracelet,” I say, full with suspicion.

“You like it?” She runs her fingers over it, twists it repetitively. Her cheeks brighten a lively shade of crimson. “I picked it up at the mall.”

 
“You said you found it in a parking lot.” Tad postures himself away from her with a serious look of doubt.