Vex (25 page)

I try the keycard one last time before placing it back in my pocket. I glance up and down the hall to make sure I’m alone and give a hard twist to the flat metal knob. An audible crack emits as the door slips open. I’ve deformed the metal so bad I don’t think the door will shut again on its own. But, it’s the resorts fault for having such poor keycards to begin with. Plus, I have a friend in need. Did I just refer to Michelle-make-my-life-miserable-Miller as a friend?

The dark room pulsates with heavy breathing—panting. Good God, she is in here with Marshall. I decide to flick on the lights and get the confirmation over with so I can get back to dealing with the other thorn in my side, Holden. If we leave earlier for his inter-dimensional family reunion, I can still lose my virginity to Gage at ten.

“Michelle?” I step into the disorganized room. I don’t really see—

A bloodied hand swipes across my forehead.

“Holy freaking shit!” I scream so loud my throat burns from the effort. I slam my back up against the wall and stare up in fright.

Michelle lies motionless, adhered to the ceiling wearing nothing but a bra and underwear. She’s covered in long bloodied welts from head to toe that protrude from her flesh in angry red slashes. She rolls her head over at me, offering an eerie grimace.

I swallow down a scream.

“Michelle?” She’s completely out of it. And what is it with Fems, and Sectors, and ceilings, anyway? I take a breath and climb on Brielle’s bed in an attempt to pull her down.    

Before I can grab her, she flies across the room—slams into the wall before suctioning back up to the ceiling again.

A sharp moan expels from her body. My head throbs in rhythm to my erratic heartbeat. I jump over to Emily’s bed, then Chloe’s before I finally latch onto Michelle’s foot. Her body rockets back across the room, taking me with it, smooth as a zip line, and I land flat on my back with my head hitting the floor with a magnificent thud.

The room sways. I watch bleary eyed as Michelle catapults from one wall to another at impossible speeds. The temperature rises to uncomfortable levels.

It’s like we’re in hell, and I’m being forced to watch Michelle get pulverized by unseen Fems. I try to get up off the floor but I’ve somehow magnetized to the carpet.

I need my anger to catapult me off the floor. Anything to capitalize on the bionic burst of strength I get when I’m all worked up. I think of Chloe, Holden, and even Mia and how much trouble she caused just before Christmas before I achieve my goal and spike off the floor in a rage. I chase Michelle around the room, snatching and grabbing at random until, finally, I drag her to the bed and pin her down with my body.

Lying on top of a hot and sweaty, bleeding Michelle Miller is not exactly how I want to remember the night I’m set to turn in my V-card. In fact, I’d rather Miller and her bitchy ways reprise themselves than me trying to sedate her from bucking like a bronco. I snatch a hold of her hand and pluck at the ring. Her eyes go off in opposite directions at once. It’s abnormal, inhuman looking, and for a split second, I think of bolting for the door. I pull and twist at the ring and nothing. It doesn’t even budge. I try to unclasp her necklace, but she’s gone and soldered the thing on, just like Chloe. What the hell?

Shit.

Michelle pulls me in with a newfound ferocity, clamps onto my neck with her teeth, and bites down. A hot bite of pain rips through me.

“Shit!” I knee her hard in the stomach, trying to wrestle free from her death grip.

“Skyla!” Logan booms from behind.

Michelle claws at my arms, my legs in a fury—ripping right through my jeans with her razor-like fingernails. My neck is on fire and my brain throbs in regular intervals. It holds the very real promise of detonating.

Logan plucks Michelle off me and tosses her onto Chloe’s bed. She rolls onto the floor with a thud and goes limp.

“You’re bleeding,” his face is pale as he examines the wound.

I make my way over to the mirror and see an egg-sized chunk mangled and bleeding.

“Crap,” I hiss. I reach for a towel and press into the wound—feel the burn as it connects with the exposed tissue. “Michelle’s wearing another piece of jewelry inspired by the Fem line. I couldn’t get the ring or the necklace off.”

He takes a deep breath, examining her crumpled body.

I glance over at the alarm clock.

“Nine forty-five,” I say, disbelieving.

“Gage has the room tonight,” it depresses out of him. Logan’s love elongates for me like a shadow. There’s such a grievous of defeat on his face, I can hardly stand the sight.  “I’ll deal with Michelle. Take care of your neck, will you?” He steps forward, far too close to look at my newfound injury. I can feel his soft breath waft over me in waves.

“I’ll put something on it,” I whisper.

Logan and I get caught in a morbid gaze. His nose touches the tip of mine as he dares me to kiss him. He wants it now more than ever. But he’s waiting for me to see if I want it, too.

The boy I used to love, trust with my life so powerfully, stands here hurt over the fact I want someone else—that someone else will have me eventually.

He runs his fingers over the side of my face, down my neck, pausing at my fresh infliction.

“Skyla,” he whispers, bereft with sadness.

“You’ve seen the future, Logan. You know how this ends.” I don’t mean for it to come out as intense as it does.

“I did see something.” His jaw clenches, defining his sharp features.

“What did you see?” I press into him with my curiosity.

Michelle groans as though she were trying to spare Logan from telling me what he knows.

“Did it give you hope? You know, regarding us?” If I make Logan believe my love for him, he might tell me anything.

He shakes me loose.

“I can hear you right through my clothes, Skyla. I’m stronger now. I have powers you have no idea about.” His cold demeanor reminds me of that horrible day when he tried feeding me to the Counts. “And yes,” he burrows into me with a heartfelt gaze, “it gave me hope.”

Chapter Forty-One

Paragon in Springtime

I text Gage and let him know I’ll be a few minutes late.

What’s up?

I’m sure he’s after the truth which I’m, not in a million years, going to tell him because there’s no way he’s going to think Holden and I going on a light drive is a good idea.  Maybe I should tell him I have a headache? That would, for sure, be the truth, but then he’ll probably think I was trying to get out of being with him, which I’m totally not. Although, I am pretty much convinced there’s a Fem trying to eat my brain from the inside out. 

Everything OK?

Yes! I need to talk to Bree. Girl stuff. ~S

Great. He’s going to think I’m on my way to get sex tips from, of all people, Brielle, and I’m sure she has a few. She could teach a class on the things she knows—call it one hundred and one ways to get knocked up.

I find Holden near the cafeteria exit with his hands stuffed in his jacket. He blows out a breath, and a trail of vapors emit from his mouth like a dragon. I wish I never laid eyes on Holden Kragger. Hopefully tonight will reverse that opinion. I’m dying to find something to lord over Chloe—nail her with evidence of Emerson’s death so I can free myself from her bondage.

“Follow me,” I say, leading him over to the women’s restroom. I put out the cleaning sign and drag him inside. “Give me your hands.”

“I didn’t know time travel was so user friendly.” Holden has transformed Ethan from gawky and lanky to outright buff and handsome—poor, poor, unsuspecting girls of Paragon. I feel as though I owe every one of them an apology for bringing him back from the dead. It’s too bad nice people like my father don’t get that opportunity—hardly seems fair.

“Where we going?” I ask.

“Last spring.”

“You think about it in detail, and I’ll get us there. Remember, I’m doing this so you can see your sister, but I also need something in return. We need to figure out what she knows about Chloe.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Already I know it’s doubtful that Holden will help me do anything. That’s OK, I have an agenda of my own.

***

The sun bleats out from behind angel white clouds. They define themselves in a series of pristine scallops so full and crisp they look almost cartoonlike. Just seeing the sun bear down over Paragon disorients me, makes me feel as though I’m walking around with a broken compass.

“Later,” Holden heads into a crowd circulating up ahead. It’s not until I see a friendly blue dolphin splashed against the side of a building that I connect the dots and figure out I’m at East Paragon High.

“Twenty minutes!” I swear I’m not above leaving him.

A sea of students funnel around me. I scan the crowd for familiar faces. Honestly, the only people I remotely know who go to East are Carly and Carson, and, for sure, I don’t want to run into either of them.

A girl and a guy making out by the water fountain catch my attention. There’s something heartfelt in the way he kisses her, desperate as though it weren’t enough to have her that way. Something about him reminds me of Gage. His hands wander up her sweater. With all of the passion he exudes, you would think there weren’t another soul around. My stomach spikes with heat at the thought of things I might be doing with Gage later—hell, if I could find him now. But that won’t happen. He’s miles away at West with Chloe. She’s everywhere, every time dimension, every universe, she covers him like moss on a stone—slippery, annoying as hell to get rid of.

The couple parts ways and the girl walks by with her hair in a high ponytail.

“Excuse me?” I call out.

She turns and looks at me with expressionless eyes. It must be an entrance requirement to have no soul if you want to go to East.

“Can you tell me where to find Emerson Kragger?”

She sputters a laugh. “Behind the student parking lot with the rest of the stoners.” She takes off and her ponytail bounces with each step as though it were a spring.

Student parking lot. The layout looks similar to West, so I follow my gut and low and behold, catch a glimpse of expensive SUV’s and sports cars lining the lot. Just being in a parking lot makes me crave Gage. It’s like I can feel him with those eyes the color of the deepest part of the ocean watching over me in the sky.

A familiar rank odor I’ve come to associate with Ellis emanates from behind the bushes, and, sure enough, I stumble upon a small huddle of bodies that jump and scatter simultaneously.

“It’s OK,” I hit the air brakes.

“Narc!” A boy with long greasy hair darts into the woods.

“I’m not a narc. I don’t even know what a narc is. I’m looking for Emerson. I’m a friend of hers.”

A girl with long black hair rolls her face towards me. I recognize her from the Transfer. She has beautiful almond cut eyes and lips to die for. A puff of smoke swirls out of her mouth as she waits for me to say something.

“What?” She takes another hit as though it were the most natural thing in the world. For sure Arson Kragger has the most screwed up kids on Paragon. Then again, he’s probably not too far off himself.

“Um,” I take a seat next to her in the dirt, “I’m a friend of Chloe’s.”

She slides back a foot as if I just pulled a verbal knife on her. I’m pretty sure Chloe had something to do with poor Emerson’s demise. At least her diary eluded to as much.

“I’m not a
friend
, friend. I just know her—hate her actually,” I correct.

“Yeah?” She looks disbelieving. “Why do you hate her?”

“Because she’s a killer.”

Her eyebrows flex like thick black worms.

“Why do you hate her?” I ask, watching her face for a clue of any kind.

The wind picks up, dislodging the serenity around us. It rattles the branches of the evergreens like bones on a skeleton.

“I don’t hate Chloe,” she takes another hit before pulling her knees up to her chin. “Chloe hates me.”

“Story of my life.” Who knew I had so much in common with a Kragger? “Look, I know you don’t know me. But I would do just about anything to get some dirt on Chloe.” It’s too bad I can’t stop Chloe from slaughtering Emerson. “Hey, do you know the date?”

“Sixteenth.”

“Of May?”

“April.” She looks at me like I’m the one on something.

“I meant April,” I shrug it off. I’ll have to check and see what day Emerson dies, see if I can be a fly on the wall and figure things out backwards.

“I have something on Chloe.” She gives a bleak smile, lowers her lids until it looks downright seductive. “What’s it worth to you?”

“Everything. Name it, it’s yours.”

“Cash, lots of it.” She bites down on her lips, exposing a row of perfect teeth the color of milk.

Where am I going to get money? Steal from Logan? I shake the thought away.

“I don’t have cash,” I take a breath, “but I do have tons of that crap you’re filling your lungs with. An endless supply, actually.” Then again, she probably does, too.

“OK.” She shrugs.

“Skyla
.” My name echoes from the field to my left. I get up in an effort to motion Holden over. Who knew I could find his sister before he did?

But I don’t see Holden.

I see Logan—and everything in me freezes.

Chapter Forty-Two

Count the Ways You Love Me

Pale whispers of straw struggle to survive through the gravel of the overflow parking lot. Just beyond the lot, a vigorous forest stands tall and proud, not burned to ash like the one at West, although technically it’s still thriving there, too.

Logan reaches down and tries picking up my hand, but I pull away.

“Voices,” I say, laying my palm flat against my chest. “So which Logan are you? Past, present—future? The Count that’s going to kill me?”

“I saw you bolt into the restroom with Kragger then waited two seconds for you to come out.”

“Oh, that one,” I say, lackluster. “So, did your supervising spirit, tell you where to go? How’d you find me?”

His head ticks to the side.

“You don’t know why you’re here, do you?” Logan looks genuinely surprised at my ignorance.