Tremble (11 page)

I shake myself off wet dog style, listening to my tennis shoes squeak across the linoleum until I come to Marshal ’s classroom.

Door’s shut. I can tel by the shadow from under the door that the lights are off. The one who supposedly can’t lie to me turns out to be a big fat liar after al .

I pivot to go. What if he’s not lying? What if he’s hung himself to prove some macabre point, or is waiting, wearing nothing but a raincoat ready to flash me as soon as I walk through the door?

It is my duty to thoroughly investigate. And, besides, if he’s not there, I can riffle through his desk. He might have a candy bar in there or something, so it won’t be a total loss. Or maybe if I touch his desk, his chair, I might get that intense feeling of a thousand rol er coasters and every kiss from Logan and Gage rol ed into one. He’s probably transferring some il egal street drug into me by osmosis. He’s that sick, I can tel .

I twist the knob and step inside.

The whites of two pair of eyes pierce the dimly lit room from over by his desk. Al I see is long hair sprayed over flesh, and I quickly turn around to face the closet.

Shit!

Breasts! I saw breasts.

I’m going to kil Marshal . I’m going to figure out how he dies and pray he stays dead because obviously he’s perverse. Why else would he cal me in to watch him go at it with some girl?

“This goes viral, and I’m coming after you.” A finger spikes hard into my chest.

It’s Michel e!

My toes curl tight, causing my feet to squeak unnatural y.

She motions for me to zip the back of her cheer top, and I do so mechanical y, then she leaves.

I turn around in time to see Marshal tending to a zipper of his own.

“You’re sick, you know that?”

“No, I’m quite healthy, actual y.” He holds his hands out and gives a placid smile.

“What? Was I late, so you took Michel e?” I say her name like it’s riddled with syphilis.

“Jealous much?” He says throwing his coat on in haste and snapping shut his briefcase. “Step outside. You have a reputation to protect.”

We speed into the hal , walking at a decent clip.

I needed you to see it. She’s got it out for you, and you’re going to need far more ammunition than that. He cuts a hard look.

“I knew it. You can read minds.”

“Simpletons. Not you.”

I pause straightening at the thought. I’m not a simpleton.

Don’t flatter yourself. It’s because you’re Celestra. You’re harder to crack than a lead egg.

“What about Levatio?” I want to know if he’s digging into Gage, picking his brain when no one’s looking.

“Depends—if it’s solid thinking, not usual y. But if it’s mush, which open lust causes it to be, why yes, I can hang around and watch the show if I want to.”

We tap dance down the stairs at an alarming clip.

He sets his hand on the door and pauses before exposing us to the harsh elements ready to batter us on the other side.

“That boyfriend of yours has a lascivious mind.” He pul s back his lips and looks into the fog pressing against the window. “In fact you might even say he’s the one who inspired my ingenious plan.” He gives a quick wink and walks briskly into the rain before popping open his umbrel a.

“Don’t worry, Skyla. My plan includes you.”

That’s exactly what I’m worried about.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Game On

Friday night comes, and the rain doesn’t bother to stop for the game. The opposing team is from upstate Washington. Apparently, most teams use Paragon as an excuse to party for the weekend, and lucky for them because the games are rarely cancel ed. West High only goes off the island once this season and that’s not until November.

Michel e’s father came out earlier and staked a giant white canopy into the ground for us to cheer under. There’s not a soul in the bleachers, not one sign of a Sector.

Lightening il uminates the night, radiates a glow with the earnestness of midday. The players each revert to the sidelines. It’s impossible to tel if a whistle blew. I can’t hear anyone cheer but myself, and even that is mostly drowned out by the rain.

“They’re cal ing it off!” Briel e screams into my face.

“Forfeiting?” I scream back.

The players run in our direction, and we line up and extend our hands to the high five ready position. I smile wide at Gage who leads the pack into the gym, but it’s Logan I hold my breath for. We’ve never talked about what I said the last time. I’m pretty sure a high five after a losing game wasn’t the best moment to declare my love for someone. And tonight I have no idea whether we won or lost, or how exactly one might quantify a forfeit.

Logan clasps my hand a second.

Meet me in the gym by the hoops. He makes his way down the line without so much as an extra glance in my direction.

***

Hoops, like basketbal , right? I look around the colossal darkened room as my feet create an echo with every step.

A faint whistle emits from behind the bleachers.

“Logan?” I hiss, hardly able to contain my excitement. I see him give a slight wave. His hair is plastered to his forehead, and his white uniform is covered in mud thick as toothpaste.

My heart races as I squeeze behind the metal support beams and make my way over.

“You have a good game?” I ask stupidly. For one, I was there and for two, it was cancel ed.

He cocks his head to the side. A devilish smile glides across his lips. Something tel s me he’s not too concerned with how stupid my question was.

I’ve been meaning to say something to you. He takes my hand and kisses it.

How much you miss me? And that this game of pretend is really just a big waste of time? I punctuate my questions with a brief kiss. It’s beyond exhilarating kissing Logan right here at West in the gym.

No, not that. He pul s back and lays his hand across my shoulder. His eyes pulsate into mine with intense laser precision. Skyla… he traces my jaw line with his finger. The thick black lines on either side of his face set off the amber of his eyes and make them glow like lanterns. His lips curl into the promise of a smile. I love you.

In one swift move, I hike my legs up over his hips and kiss him in a hysterical fit of passion. This is better than kissing Logan in the gym. This is kissing Logan in the gym with an, I love you.

The metal door to our left explodes open, and I plant my feet back firmly on the floor.

A shadow marches over swift as a ghost. It’s Marshal .

“What in the hel is this?” He asks looking right at me.

We take off past him without a word.

I’ll see you bright and early. Marshal penetrates my mind like a bul horn.

Outside, Gage is propped against the side of the building tucked safely away from the rain under the awning.

I can’t help but notice the clear look of hurt across his face, and it makes me feel like crap.

“You ready to go?” He asks, wounded.

I pick up his hand as we head out towards the parking lot. I can’t let this keep happening to Gage.

I won’t let it.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Plan

With Dr. Oliver and Emma off the island on business, Gage and Logan opened their doors to, wel , everyone.

It turns out driving rain—nails spit from the sky—doesn’t stop a bunch of teenagers from congregating en masse.

It’s dark inside. I’m partial y blinded until my eyes have a chance to adjust. There must be a code on Paragon that reads al parties must take place with the lights off. Not that I’m complaining. My makeup has long since melted off, and my hair has blown up twice its size after Briel e attacked it with a blow dryer. Briel e, of course, looks flawless.

“So I’m thinking we head back early,” she says.

“Head back, as in my house?” I find her monkey lust nauseating. “You are aware that we’re at my boyfriend’s house, right?”

“Boyfriends’,” she corrects.

I’m stil not sure whether Briel e is onto us or not. I thought I made that whole relationship thing with Gage pretty hard to argue with. Speaking of which, here he comes to lead me upstairs.

He wraps an arm around my waist, and we head on up without incident.

“So you gonna hang out in your room for a while?” I ask. It feels almost motionless up here compared to the riot-like atmosphere happening downstairs.

“Yeah, I’m gonna write you another poem,” he says with a morbid rendition of sarcasm. “Maybe I’l take the dog out for a walk or jump in the pool.”

My stomach cinches. I can’t look him in the eyes, so I trail the white molding with my gaze.

“We’re just gonna talk.” I’m not expecting him to believe me, but I have no idea how to soften the blow.

“His room’s that way.” He points down to the left before disappearing into the dark.

***

I walk down a series of corridors, each dimly lit with a candle flickering in a sconce on the wal . A part of me wishes Gage took me directly to Logan. But he’s too pissed, so goodbye Mr. Nice Guy.

He knew the deal when he agreed to it. I pause in the fog of darkness and draw in a breath. A part of me is furious for my decision to go along with this. It’s me who’s driving the stake into Gage’s heart, not Logan.

A seam of light sprays out from under a door down the hal . My feet move swift as a brush fire. I open the door and jump in out of the darkness, quickly securing it shut behind me.

He’s lying flat on the bed in jeans and a t-shirt with something strange thrown over his face. I take a few steps closer and startle.

Crap!

It’s a mask—a creepy clown mask. I can’t breathe!

“You scared the junk out me.” I press my hand into my chest.

He tilts his head to the side as if amused, only it looks freaky with that ghastly grimace glued to his face and him not saying anything. Makes me want to run screaming.

He gets up slowly.

“Oh, no. Not with that thing on.” It’s so weird. This is total y out of character for Logan. “Is that you?” I hiss below a whisper.

His head cocks to the side as he takes a few bold steps forward.

I propel back ten paces and hold out my hand.

He flicks his fingers beckoning me over.

“It’s freaking you, Marshal , isn’t it?” I bolt for the door, but he beats me to it and blocks it with his body. “What’s the matter, Michel e not enough for you? Briel e wants in too, does that make you happy? I’m sure you can juggle your four-thirty appointments for months if you wanted.”

He reaches up and plucks off the mask, exposing a very stunned El is Harrison.

“Who the hel ’s Marshal ? And why is he getting al the hot chicks?”

I snatch the mask out of his hand and smack him across the chest with it.

A light knock erupts at the door. It’s Logan.

***

Logan leads me to his bedroom at supersonic speed. Away from flower bearing El is who apparently has some girl in there using the bathroom and away from conversations of Marshal who I’m not even supposed to mention.

“So what’s the game plan?” I ask, leaning against the door with a seductive gleam in my eye.

“We’re going to get some serious studying done,” he says, walking over to a smal round table off to the side.

“You’re kidding, right?” That’s not your typical protocol right after you declare your love for one another. Usual y it manifests itself in a physical form, but I don’t have to spel it out for Logan—do I?

“I’ve got a pretty good map of who’s who in the factions as wel as local chapters, thanks to the meeting I went to a few weeks back.”

I take a seat next to him, startled at how serious he is. He has two identical flipcharts set out. A poster board size diagram of names I don’t recognize takes up the center, and triangular splinters that lead to more names I don’t recognize shoot off the sides.

“It looks like you have it al figured out.” I run my fingers across Logan’s hard work as though I expect it to make more sense that way. “You know al these people?”

“Most.” He taps his pen against the page. “I don’t have it al figured out. Do you see what’s missing?” The chal enge glints in his eye.

“Celestra, Noster, Levatio, Deorsum….” I look up. “Countenance.”

“Yes.” He nods. “Do you see what we’re up against? I have no clue who they are, not one.”

“Can your uncle help?”

“I asked. He doesn’t know either.” He darts his pen across the room in frustration.

“Who can we ask? There’s got to be somebody.”

He shakes his head, unable to answer.

Then it hits me.

I know a certain Sector who might be wil ing to help.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Let Me Hold Your Hand

Briel e and I drive over to Marshal ’s ranch and park in front of his palatial gothic estate.

“Creepy,” she moans, studying the prominent gargoyles adorning every available corner of the structure.

“I know, right?” I say clutching at the door handle. Briel e and I didn’t get to talk last night like I had hoped. She went off to Drake’s room as soon as we got home, and by the time I woke up, they were both downstairs enjoying the pancakes mom whipped up. Weird—if my mother only knew.

We get out of the car and find a note taped to the oversized front doors that bear a striking resemblance to giant elongated coffins.

Please come around back. I’m tending to horses in the barn.

We head over a neatly manicured lawn. The entire house is outlined with dense rose bushes in every shape and color—thorns as thick as knives.

The sun manages to break through a crack in the dense layer of clouds that have pressed low against the island al morning. The cool air whips into a frenzy, so crisp and clean it hurts my L.A. lungs to take in a ful breath.

“You think he’s going to care that I came?”

“Right,” I huff. “More like he’s going to try to molest you, so make a run for it while you can.”

“I’d let him have his way with me.” She shags her hair out with her fingers.

“Wel then, he’d better write me a thank you for bringing you along.”

“Skyla!” He waves from the large gaping entry to the barn. The barn looks massive, more like an airplane hanger with bright red paneling that creates a spectacle on the outside. “Come in, come in.” He extends his hand, and both Bree and I walk over.