Expel (31 page)

“Skyla?” It’s Brielle. She’s thinner, obviously without child, but there’s something off about her in addition to that.

“What are you doing here?” I take her in, she’s wearing full French maids regalia, only it’s not nearly as hot as the one Gage picked out for me at Halloween. It’s more of a cross between a nurse and a nun.

“Working,” she says, annoyed. “I was just getting ready to hand wash Chloe’s cheer uniform. She’s the best cheerleader that West has ever seen.”

Honest to God, I half expected her to laugh or roll her eyes but she stands there solemn as though she had just spouted off the pledge of allegiance.

I’m a little miffed by the display of robotic attention. I’m not sure what the rules are, but it’s obvious the ‘best cheerleader ever’ has the ability to manipulate them.

“Where’s Chloe?”

“She’s in the viewing room,” she points down the hall. “But you can’t disturb her, she’s with Gage.” Brielle gives a challenging look as if it should mean something.

“Gage?” Shit. “Oh, I won’t disturb them,” I assure, speeding down the hall. I plan on calmly collecting Chloe and getting the hell out of Dodge.

I open door after door until I come upon a small hallway with a giant framed picture on the wall of Chloe staring out at a pale fog of light, the word
Matinee
printed just beneath.

I don’t hesitate opening the door. It’s dark, and the air is stopped up with the heavy scent of popcorn. The carpeted walls clot the sound of my footsteps as I fast approach the end of the long dark corridor. A wall-sized screen blazes away with a flickering seizure of color. It’s a freaking movie theatre, loud as one, too.

I peer around the dividing wall, stealth as a sniper, and to my horror I see Chloe sticking her tongue down some poor guys throat. They’re indulging in one serious flesh-fest with an intense vigor that sets off a primal alarm in me. I recognize that glossy black hair, those strong arms stretched over her like a canopy.

Oh shit.

That’s
what she’s doing with Gage?

I pluck her off his body so fast her wild-eyed expression clues me in on the fact, I’m the last person on the planet she expected in this fornicating fantasy.

Gage snatches my arm, and I pause, examining him. I marvel at the details, every last whisper of his being is in place. What an immaculate replica. This doppelganger is like Gage in every way, right down to his perfect lips, the woodsy scent of his cologne.

I smack him in the chest before dragging Chloe out. She bucks and writhes in an attempt to liberate herself from my vice-like grip. She claws and kicks all the way upstairs. It takes all of my Celestra strength to keep her from launching the two of us over the railing. Even if Chloe did manage to off herself in this delusional world, I’d totally drag her body back to Paragon, leave her to rot in Demetri’s dungeon until the bumbling detective came upon her carcass.

“Let go.” She pushes me off as we land in the library.

“You have to come back.” I block the exit with my body.

“Did I miss All States?” She pants from the struggle. Funny, the only thing she asks about is some stupid competition, doesn’t even bother inquiring about her mother, her frantic father who swore on television this ordeal was shaving ten years off the backend of his life—the friends she left behind, not that she has any.

“We leave in less than a week.”

“Perfect.” Chloe heads over to the mirror willingly and crawls on through.

The world around me disintegrates, evaporates into a blue expanse of nothing, arid like the sky on a perfect L.A. day.

I make a beeline over to the mirror before it completely disappears.

Something tells me I’ve just found a way to make Chloe do just that, forever.
 

Chapter 53

I Do?

A staffing emergency arose at the bowling alley, and Gage had to fill the void. I offered to cancel our faction-centered play date with Marshall but he wouldn’t hear of it.

“I promise to knee him in the balls if he tries to kiss me,” I say, leaning over and pressing my lips into Gage like some silent impassioned plea for him to stay.

“I promise to do the same if he tries to kiss you.” He looks through the windshield over at Marshall’s sprawling estate. “I’ll see if I can’t get someone to cover the shift. Either way, call me when you’re ready. I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

“Done.” I get out and wave as Gage rounds his way out of the circular driveway—his black truck a perfect silhouette against the dull of afternoon.

Each day Paragon produces the same grey taffy world. It pulls out forever, entombs us in a cloudbank as if we had risen in the sky. I miss the sunshine back in L.A.—the dapples of light that burst unexpectedly into the house, the splash of warmth over the carpet where Mia’s old dog would curl up and take his naps. I miss the stamp of nature’s design over my back as I sat beneath a tree, lost in a book, robed in glorious light.

I ring the bell and wait for Marshall to show. He mentioned he had a meeting to attend, regarding the faction war. The last time he was there he spent his time defending me to the celestial higher-ups, which apparently included God himself. Marshall was totally in a foul mood when he returned, and I expect nothing less today.

The door flies open, a winded Marshall sweeps his hand for me to step inside.

“Skyla,” he breathes my name in one lusty whisper. “Don’t be hindered, please, come in,” he gives an awkward smile, pants like a lapdog as he devours me with his eyes.

I can’t figure out his heady grin, or the fact he’s becoming more inebriated by my presence with each passing moment. Instead, I maneuver past him, ignoring his strange behavior.

“Please take a seat,” he offers, as I’m about to plant myself on the couch. “May I offer you a drink? A meal perhaps? ” His eyes widen. He’s absorbing me, memorizing my nuances, the exact interpretation of my being, savoring it for later. He whisks his eyes over me as if I were royalty. “Would you be more comfortable with your feet up?” He retrieves a damask pillow from the corner and places it beside me.

“No, thank you.” I try to assess the stupid grin blooming on his face but it’s no use. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I say in the nicest way possible.

“I’ve just heard the words I’ve been longing to hear,” his chest heaves, his eyes still magnetically locked over mine. “It’s true. All I’ve ever wanted. It’s been granted.”

“Great,” I shrug. I can’t imagine what Marshall would possibly crave, hunger for so deeply that it could make him act like a five year old on Christmas morning. “A new longbow?” I take a stab at the subject matter.

He winces at the prospect of such absurdity. “No, Love, material goods mean nothing.” He falls to his knees before me and caresses my cheek. “It’s you Skyla, you’ll become my wife one day.”

***

I try to convince Marshall there is no way his so-called
friend
got the prediction right as he leads me into the forest behind his house for the lesson in question.

“Delphinius is an orator,” he says it with nod. “Makes my visions look like discernments from a Magic 8 Ball. He’s an accurate source, I assure you.”

This is probably going to play out like Gage’s vision in the courthouse, leaving Marshall disappointed and me gloating because I was right. I can guarantee we will never marry. I’d say it out loud but I have a feeling it would kick off our ode to weaponry on the wrong foot.

Marshall plucks something up from behind a noble fir and carries it over to me, looks like a bow on steroids.

“Projectile weaponry at its finest—crossbow.” He positions it over me and plucks an arrow from his quiver. “Far more practical for the terrain you’ll be battling in.”

“Lots of hills,” I say, closing one eye trying to focus my arm on a target painted over a Red Alder not too far in the distance.

“Relax,” he whispers. He stands behind me, nestling my body in his as he holds my arms in position. His lips touch my ear, and my skin quivers with the energy of a million tiny electrical impulses.

“No kissing,” I puff the words into the fog. “I promised Gage I’d knee you in the balls if you tried.”

“I believe the terms of your agreement were more in line with doling out a punishment—if I were successful.” He touches his cheek to mine before dipping down to my neck and inhaling my scent.

“Marshall,” I reprimand. I might have to knee him anyway for being so insolent.

“A stolen kiss might be worth the infliction,” his lips curve with seduction. He takes my breath away without trying. “You realize I’m immune to pain.”

Actually I forgot about that.

I look him over, his blessed by God features, his larger than life character that exudes an unearthly charisma. Being married to Marshall would be like falling into a supernova. I’d be swallowed up and blinked out of existence before I knew what hit me.

“Not true.” He doesn’t bother hiding the fact he’s reading my mind. “I will lift you up before me each day—our nights filled with such passion you’ll ache in the interim for my touch to return.” He squeezes his hand over mine before locking another arrow into position.

“Will there be chocolate?” I let go of the arrow and watch as it spirals through the air like a lame duck.

“Always,” he pushes himself hard against my back as we launch an aggressive assault on the poor sapling we’ve set our sights on.

“You didn’t happen to see your future mother-in-law at that meeting today, did you?” May as well milk the effort.

“Yes, the hormonal carp was present.”

“Marshall!”

“She blew me a new one, as you would say.”

“She
ripped
you a new one,” I correct. “The word blow has an entirely different meaning. I suggest you remove it from your lexicon.”

“Observed.” He lifts the crossbow from off my shoulder and places it at his feet. “Skyla, you must be the victor of the next region and every one after that.”

“I want to. It’s not like I’m trying to fail,” I look over at the plethora of arrows scattered just shy of the bulls eye and nary an arrow where it should be. The crimson blotch against the pale tree trunk mocks me with its unblemished stain.

“I mentioned your predicament with Ezrina.”

“Thank you,” I want to lunge at Marshall with a hug but restrain myself in fear Chloe has her demonic minions recording our every move.

“She’s declined to see you,” he gives a wistful smile.

“I suppose you’ll offer to mediate in exchange for saliva.”

“No such transaction is necessary.” Marshall is cold as stone. “I would do anything for the mother of my child. But first, we have someone else to see.”

Chapter 54

Body Snatcher

The Transfer is tempered with cold sterile walls, the icy blue steel that glows off stainless counters. Each footstep produces a strange echo as we navigate the maze that comprises its corridors.

Marshall holds my hand, and I let him. We are, after all, in some viral version of hell, albeit free from suffering humans and devoid of fire—nevertheless, the demon that is Ezrina resides on the premises. This is her home, her throne, her lair.

“Can I see Logan after?” I bounce into my words like a child begging her father for a treat at the amusement park.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“For one, he’s dead.
 
I believe it’s time you let dead bygones be bygones, the operative word being gone. You have Jock Strap to fill the interim before we physically acquaint ourselves.”

“So, I
will
be with Gage.” A swell of relief fills me. “And, no Logan?” A spiral of grief rips through my insides. I thought for sure we had some kind of future.

“I’m not here to play fill in the blanks—see who’ll warm my wife’s bed in time and memoriam. Those are your affairs until we’ve sealed our union.”

We step into a bulbous shaped room with a domed ceiling and light fracturing off the metallic furniture at strange apertures. I’ve never seen this room before. There’s something spiritual, satanic perhaps about the sharp angles, the dome with a cutout window that bleeds in the dark of night.

Ezrina sits patiently glossing over a book, her finger tracing out the lines as she reads them. Her hair is unruly, defying gravity with its wiry shag, her face deformed in horrific breaks with large pillow-like bags exploding beneath each eye. Poor Nev. This for sure isn’t the shell of the woman he fell in love with. I wonder if what’s inside is still the same? I can’t imagine. I’ve never met anyone as abrasive as Ezrina, well, maybe Chloe.

“You come with news?” She slams the cover over her finger without extricating her hand.

“I come with Skyla, young lady,” he says.

God, Marshall even flirts with Ezrina. His philandering knows no bounds. If he keeps this up he’s going to make a lousy husband, and I refuse to believe it’ll be to me.

Something about the gold relief work on the window frame reminds me of that haunted mirror. It has a similar pattern of long dripping leaves, acorns as accents.

“By the way,” I say, briefly ignoring the fact Ezrina is in the room ready to disrobe my spirit. “You gave that magic mirror to Demetri as a gift?” I’m confounded by this.

“Indeed,” he bows into me with pride.

“What kind of gift is that? It lets you go in and imagine yourself in the lap of luxury? To have desired people and places at your disposal?”

“Yes,” he nods, shocked by my negative reaction. “He would have had the world at his feet as he always dreamed, thus it is referred to as the Realm of Possibilities.”

I groan. “That’s a cruel gift Marshall.”

“Why in heaven’s name is that?” He ticks his head back, genuinely perplexed.

“Because it lets you live a lie.”

“It’s nothing more than a fantasy, Skyla. It just so happens it contains flesh and bone and feeling. If I could mass market the device, your society would lose its every inhabitant. It’s a novelty humans would gleefully trade their realities for.”

“That may be so, but it’s wrong. Chloe was
touching
Gage, and for your information, Gage doesn’t want her anywhere near him.”

“Skyla,” he gives a long blink, holding back a laugh. “Men admire you from afar. They memorize your features while you patiently wait for your lattes, while you cheer with your limbs so freely exposed. They save the image for later with carnal intentions—nothing more than a fantasy. I can’t say one is more wrong than the other. Even so, the mirror exists. I gave that incorrigible Fem more than a mind’s eye view of what the universe would be like if he controlled it. He could have lived within the safety of its confines if he so wished. The only difference between the mirror and his decision to remain in reality was his own greed.”

Ezrina comes over and touches my neck with the back of her gnarled hand. “Beauty,” the word gurgles from her. “You failed, Skyla.” She feigns a look of sadness.

“No,” I shake my head backing up from her touch. “My mother, she’s just difficult to get a hold of. I’m going to get you that new trial.”

“Skyla,” Marshall whispers in defeat.

“I will,” I sharpen my tone. “I swear it!”

Ezrina comes to me, faster, more aggressive. I circle around Marshall before jumping spontaneously in his arms and burying my face in his chest.

“Logan lives,” her bloodstained lips crack the words out. She grabs a fistful of my hair at the base of my neck, pulls my head back with a violent jerk. Ezrina hangs over me like a boulder. Her mouth opens, and a stream of white light pours out into mine before I can think to seal my lips. The room changes diameter, I’m falling, stretching. I land upright in front of Marshall staring down at a waif of a girl, long golden hair, encased in surreal beauty like that of a fairytale.

“No!” I scream.

My voice echoes for miles.

***

“How in God’s name do you justify this?” I ask Marshall as we stand outside the Transfer watching Ezrina, well, me, run as fast as she can into a sheer granite wall. A blue aura spasms around her body just before she disappears.

“This will quell her for now—buy you more time to remove yourself from the covenant you’re embroiled in. Let this be a lesson, never cavort promises with celestial beings that you have no intention of keeping. I’m repeating myself in the event you’re unaware.”

“I had every intention of keeping that promise. It was my mother who was unwilling.” Everything in me wants to cry but apparently Ezrina is hardwired not to—just speaking feels as though I’ve moved a boulder with my teeth. Ezrina’s flesh is an iron cage two sizes too small.

“Then let me rephrase—refrain from entering into sacred pacts, when you have no authority. Your mother is anxious to see you, by the way.”

“Now you tell me?” I resist the urge to hack him to pieces. “No,” it stamps out of me.

“No?”

“That’s right. My terms—my way. She wasn’t there when I needed her and I plan on returning the favor.”

“It’s regarding the faction war.”

“The war?” I gag on the thought. “You have to get Ezrina out of my body. She’s beyond dangerous. She’ll probably go on a hacking spree from the sheer bloodlust of it all and chop up all the wrong people. And what about Gage?” The thought of her touching his body, those lips, nauseates me.

“The war can’t be fought without you, Skyla. You’re the guest of honor. And I wouldn’t worry too much about your precious Gage. I’m sure after a few romantic sessions he’ll be quite aware.”

“A
few
?” I gasp. “How long do I have to live like this?” I ask, walking through the cobbled streets of this strange underworld. Every step in Ezrina’s flesh feels like rigor mortis is about to set it—like being stuck in a rusted suit of armor.
 

“Two weeks,” he sidesteps in the event I should swing at him.

“Two
weeks
?” I knew he’d make a lousy husband. “She’ll ruin my life in two weeks!”

“She knows your routine inside and out. Ezrina maintains she will be on her best behavior. Do you realize this is her only respite since her arrival over a century ago?”

“What am I? A day spa?! If you expect me to feel sorry for Ezrina, you are sadly mistaken. What Nev ever saw in her is beyond me,” I wince as a trail of foreign sounds escape my lips—they echo in triplicate into the fields. Ironically, I do feel bad for Ezrina, only now I’m less apt to verbalize it since she hijacked my body. “Fix this Marshall. If I am ever going to be your wife, you will get me out of this situation far sooner than two week’s time.”

“You have her powers, Skyla. You can travel to Paragon, observe, become invisible, terrorize at random. Think of the entertaining possibilities.”

An image of Gage burns through my mind. He could never love me like this. I wouldn’t even make him try.

A black wrought iron fence catches my attention in the distance. The white mansion impresses itself into the dark expanse.

Logan.

I push past Marshall without so much of a goodbye.

Something tells me this is going to be the longest two weeks, ever.