Vex (34 page)

“Shall we toast?” Tad pours sparkling cider into the champagne flutes Mom pulled out from the china cabinet. You would think Drake achieving seventeen years on the planet was a magnificent feat, which in light of the subject, it probably is. “To an outstanding son, who on this—”

“Yeah, you gotta another one sitting right here,” Holden presses out a rancid grin. “Go ahead, don’t let me interrupt your worship of this fine specimen,” he grunts.

Nice. He really plays the part of pissed off and lonely, really well. Come to think of it, he probably has a lot of experience to draw from, considering he was raised by Kraggers.

“I’m sorry, Ethan, or should I say, Holden,” Tad draws his glass into his chest annoyed.

“Not now, Honey,” Mom redirects her gaze to the floor.

“No,” Tad’s voice hits its upper register, “I think now is a fine time to get this out.
Ethan
,” he points his finger hard into Holden’s face, “and I will call you Ethan because that is the name your mother and I christened you with the moment you arrived on this planet,” Tad takes a breath, “I have worried day and night since the moment you chose to pack up and walk out on this family. I have done nothing but welcome you with open arms and try to be nice to you, but I need you to respect the fact this is not some barbaric frat house. I have rules—”

“He does,” I interject with a nod.

“Rules that you have blatantly ignored,” Tad continues, “because you have decided that you know better. If you want to continue to sleep under this roof, there are to be no more hussies trafficking through your bedroom,” Tad presses down a finger to annunciate his point, “no more mass consuming of alcohol, no smoking, and that goes for legal or illegal substances, and, for the love of God stop running around making everybody call you Holden! That’s some dead kid’s name who was murdered by a lunatic that’s been haunting this island for years.”

“Skyla killed him,” he offers.

“Don’t cut me off!” Tad wags his finger—his face does its best impersonation of an eggplant. “You think this is all one big joke. I’m sick of it. If you want to comply by my rules then do so, and if you don’t,” he sucks in his face as though he were seriously reconsidering what comes next, “you can find another residence to terrorize.”

“If Ethan goes, I go.” Melissa grabs her throat as though her own life were just threatened.

“If Melissa goes, I go,” Mia stabs into her salad.

“Mia,” Mom scolds.

“I can always move in with Gage,” I look over at him dreamily. Since every other child in the family is abandoning ship, no use in pretending that I want to stay and hang out with good old Tad any longer than I have to.

“Skyla,” Mom folds her long cloth napkin and tosses it down in a dramatic fashion.

“Looks like ya’ll don’t know how to raise a damn kid,” Darla sips her wine as though she had just said the blessing.

“Well,” Holden pushes back his plate, “let’s get this party started.” He hitches his thumb towards Drake. “Junior here knocked up his girlfriend.”

Time stops. No one takes a breath. A motionless second that draws out for infinity seals us in stunned solitude.

“Is this one of those fake pregnancies like these two pulled?” Tad darts a finger over at me and Gage.

“Excuse me,” I choke out the words. “I did not
pull
a fake pregnancy. I’ll have you know, Gage and I haven’t even slept together. We have not done one sexual thing that even comes near the realm of procreation, and listen carefully because this is the last time I am ever going to utter these words—I am a motherfucking virgin!” OK, so that last part could have been rephrased almost any other way.

“Skyla!” Mom booms.

“Things have gone way off course tonight.” Tad grasps the edge of the table as though he were about to tip it over because that might possibly be the only way to exit one of these nightmares. “Ethan—Holden, whatever the hell your name is, please excuse yourself from the table because the last thing I need is you spreading rumors about your brother—who, by the way, has been nothing but the plumb line of perfection.” It comes out in a blast.

“No, really, he’s right.” Brielle fumbles into the conversation. “I’ve already got a ton of cute names picked out, and Gage is going to help me get a miniature coffin to use as the bassinette. I might move in but then again, not,” Brielle is pretty much just talking to herself at this point because Tad and Mom have yet to pick up their jaws—their faces are stiff, and pale as plaster.

Gage lurches in his seat.
Coffin? Is she insane?

“Drake?” Tad swallows hard, waiting for some reasonable explanation.

“Isn’t it great?” Darla pushes into Mom’s shoulder. “We’s gonna have grandkids before you know it,” she slurs, “Drake and Brielle, these kids are no slackers or fakers, they’re gonna make our baby dreams come true. I’ve gotta feeling they’re gonna litter the world with a whole gaggle of rug rats. Some is gonna live at my place, some is gonna live at yours. We’re gonna be one big giant family, and pretty soon the island’s gonna be overrun with the whole lot of us.”

Tad leans back in his seat and stares disbelieving as Drake gives a weak smile.

“Hear that Lizbeth? We’re going to overrun the whole damn island.” Tad buries his face in his palms. “I’m going to have a grandchild. And, it’s going to sleep in a casket.”

I look over at Gage.

“So, I think we should probably go to Emily’s now.”     

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Speak No Evil

Gage and I drive over to Emily’s house in the middle of a torrential downpour. The rain has reduced our world to an impressionistic blur filled with muddied nightshades of raven and sable. It’s as though Paragon has been dusted off the map and replaced with its shadow-land twin, alive with inclement weather, a continual parade of mud slicks—gushing rivers, thick as milkshakes, fill the streets.

Drake and Brielle hitch a ride with Holden because they’re too jacked up on reality to drive. Holden didn’t even ask permission to take the minivan, just snatched up the keys. I caught Tad hitting the wine straight out of the bottle just before we left. Mom made it a special point to let me know my declaration of virginity did not add to the conversation and to refrain from the use of expletives while in her home.

Emily Morgan, the seer, the prognosticator of future events by way of clairvoyant blueprints, greets us at the door with a third eye painted onto her forehead. It looks so real I jump back a little when I see it.

Tell me again why we’re here?
Gage thinks we should avoid the social life on Paragon at all costs, says it takes time away from the real us, and he’s totally right.

“I’m taking a light drive with Ellis.”

“What?” His dimples sink into his checks with disapproval.

“I’ll let Chloe know you’re here,” Emily quips into Gage. Chloe has managed to brainwash the entire island into believing he’s her property. Emily disappears past the tall curio with a vast display of dragons in various fierce poses.

“I didn’t know it was Halloween,” I say, trying to change the subject. “What’s with the eye?”

“Why are you light driving with Ellis?”

“Because,” I look at him intently, hoping he’ll understand, “I’m trying to bribe Emerson into telling me what she has over Chloe. If it worked for her, maybe it’ll work for me.”

He gives a sad consecrated look, as though he truly believed the situation were hopeless.

“I’m going with you,” he says.

“You can’t come. I need the old you to give me a ride to Chloe’s house to see what she’s up to. You’ll freak out if you run into yourself, and, for sure, I don’t want us to get separated.”

“I’ll borrow my truck and give you a ride. You won’t have to worry about bothering the old me. Let me help you, Skyla.” Gage claws into my soul like fingernails, trying to hold onto the side of a mountain. “Let me in. I want all of you.”

“You already have me,” I assure him. “Everything here, inside and out, is yours.”

“We’re a team.” He pulls me in, linking a trail of kisses warm over to my ear.

“We’re a team,” I acquiesce. I’ll always give in to Gage with those kisses. “Now let’s go find Ellis.”

We head out into the spacious family room. The creepy dragonhead is still mounted to the wall with strange glowing eyes. I turn towards the dining room and take in the large stretched canvas that depicts the faction war with Marshall acting as an overlord.

“Do you mind if I check out that painting again?” I whisper.

“No, go ahead, I’ll go track down Ellis.”

Gage and I part ways as I head over to the expansive artwork. Emily’s attention to detail is impeccable. Marshall looks divine, a sight to behold, and someone to be feared. I have a feeling I should fear him far more than I do.

“She added something new,” Logan shoulders up to me.

I take in a breath, unsure of whether or not I should bolt.

“I’m OK with it, Skyla. I know you did what you thought was right.” The scar on his face depresses unnaturally.

“I wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t locked in secrets. You forced me not to trust you,” I swallow hard, scanning the vicinity for Gage.

“Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I told the truth. If it would really change anything or if everything would turn out the way it was supposed to anyhow.” He sinks his gaze to the floor. “I still have the same goal—knock the Counts off their pedestal and put Celestra back where it belongs.”

My eyes drag over him with a newfound heartache. Logan no longer fights for our love. That was the supposed goal from the beginning. We were never too hell-bent on the factions, or too overly concerned with who was going to rule the Nephilim kingdom— for sure, we weren’t up to speed on Sectors and the plans they’ve had for us, well, me from the beginning. I guess I don’t need Logan’s wayward love, but a part of me wants it—thirsts for it.

I turn to go and he swoops in front of me.

“The war is important, but it’s not all that matters to me.” His hand glides over the fullness of my hair, careful not to touch me. His gentle grazing sends a shiver through my spine, makes me feel alive in the most splendid way. “I know how it ends,” he puts it out there in a broken whisper. He presses his lips to the back of my hand as a seam of tears lines his lashes. “Do me a favor. Save something for me in here,” he taps lightly over my chest.

“I don’t think I could ever really hate you.” My lips quiver. I bite down on them to stave off the burgeoning tears. “I’m just shocked at where we’ve landed—at who you’ve become.” I turn to go then revert my attention back to him. “If I could get you to tell me just one thing,” I pause trying to temper my words, “I would really like to know—if you love me like you say you do, why not just tell me the truth. Why the secrets, Logan? People don’t keep secrets from the ones they love.”

He burns into me with those fiery golden lamps, presses out a dull smile.

“They do,” he sags into his words, “they keep secrets from the ones they love if they know they’re going to cause anguish.” His face smoothes out as though this were the case. “If the truth was unbearable and painful, dangerous, even deadly, why would I tell you? Why put you through unnecessary pain? The future is going to play out whether or not you know in advance what happens. Sometimes, Skyla, the best way to love someone is to protect them from the truth.”

Gage pops up with Ellis by his side.

Logan cuts through Gage with a look of malice—you could fry an egg on his searing anger. He excuses himself before taking off. I watch as he glides out the door, down the porch. The rain obscures him, disorients his frame as he dashes towards his truck.

Logan is protecting me. He knows the horrible future, and he will never tell.

Well, I’ll be damned.

And I just might be.      

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Gage in a Cage

Ellis ditches us almost immediately as we set foot on Paragon past.

It’s a hazy night, the kind I’ve grown accustomed to with the fog bleeding out its splendor, wrapping its long tendrils around me, offering a damp cool hug.

“Remember—save some for me!” I shout after him. Ellis is less than thrilled about having to divide his spoils.

“Let’s go,” Gage is amped to be back. Technically he’s already here somewhere, trying to stop me from killing Chloe, along with old Gage who we’re planning to deliberately avoid.

“Here he comes,” I pull Gage down behind Ellis’ monster truck. We watch as he and Logan make their way inside the raucous party.

I know this night better than any other in my life, and oddly, I was the only person who wasn’t present when it originally occurred.

“What a trip,” Gage huffs as he watches himself strut by. “Look at all that attitude.”

“Never mind that. Let’s steal your truck.” We ditch across the street, and Gage pulls me into the house like it’s no big deal.

He pats around the table in the entry for the keys.

“You sure I came in the house to get the keys?” he asks.

“Yes, I watched you do it.”

“Maybe they’re in the kitchen.”

We dart in without turning on the light and bump into Emma.

Her hands rise to her chest in surprise.

“I was just getting a snack,” she flicks on the light and examines me.

Shit!

“Who’s this?” She narrows in on me with suspicion, as though she already senses she doesn’t care for me.

“A friend. She needs a lift home. I’ll be right back.”

Gage spins around and his eyes bug out as we dart for the door.

“That went well,” I say, climbing into the truck. “What time do you have?”

He turns the engine. The time on the clock reads 11:20.

“We’d better hurry. She takes off at 11:34.”

Gage races us down the dark roads of Paragon at breakneck speeds until we finally pull up in front of future Landon manor. Chloe is notably absent from the vicinity.

“We missed her again.” But the clock only reads 11:32.

“Check it out.” He points out the back.

Next door, high up on Brielle’s driveway, sits Chloe’s car. Two figures squirm in a strip of moonlight before Chloe hops in the driver’s seat. She lowers her window, shouting something to Brielle before backing out of the driveway and taking off in the other direction.