Burn (37 page)

“Poetry in motion.” He slides over to me. “The future I’m going to show you is pivotal. The consequences, of which, will be an amazing portrait of your strength, both inside and out.”

“I’m not going to kiss you. I’m not kissing anyone but Gage.”
Logan bullets through my mind.

“The
trifecta
of misery is written all over your face. Perhaps a tiny glimpse of what lies ahead will help ease the pain—get you from Logan to
Gage
in a single bound.”

From Logan to Gage?

“Will this help get a body for Holden?” May as well kill two birds with one stone.

“No.” Marshall’s eyes round out momentarily. “Although with much persuading I can resolve those issues as well. Are you ready for your vision?”

“Is it going to teach me something important?”

“Alleviates heartaches and dispenses both knowledge and wisdom. Kissing me is both medicinal and educational.”

Marshall doesn’t waste any time. He pulls me down in one mouthwatering moment. The rush of energy flows through me like a river of pleasure amplified—no wonder Michelle can’t leave him alone.
 

A picture emerges. I see Gage and Logan near a large banquet table. Gage swipes his finger along the side of a birthday cake and puts a scoop of frosting in his mouth. I see Logan holding up a long serrated knife in my direction. It looks questionable whether it’s me or the cake he’s ready to cut.

I pull back and take a breath.

“That’s it?”

“It’s a bit more dramatic in real life.”

“That was the last time, I swear.” I push past him as I bolt for the door.

“It’s not. I’ve seen this,” he calls after me.

***

When I get back to the room, I’m shocked to see two males slumped over the tiny round table in the room. Crap! It’s probably Holden, and he’s brought another dead friend, or worse, the
Fems
that just finished a dress rehearsal in Marshall’s bathroom. I accidentally knock into the trashcan and both Logan and Gage sit up at attention.

They’re hovering over something. Marshall’s dagger sits in front of them, still tucked inside its sheath.

Chloe’s diary sits nestled between the two of them, opened.

“You’re reading it,” I gasp.

“I saw something silver hanging out of your bag,” Gage says rather sheepishly. “I thought you brought the knife, but it was your brush. Then I saw this.” His face changes colors. “We didn’t read it all.” He picks up the last few pages still glued in a chunk.

“Let’s finish it then.” I snatch it off the table and hop onto the bed near the window. Logan and Gage scoot in on either side of me.

More boring, droning days—I leaf through pages of bizarre statements about playing a game of buried treasure, mundane school news, the charting of her period.

October 17
^th
,

Demetri
did it. I’ve fashioned a better noose and the deed is done. Let the record show that the prediction of my beloved shall stand correct. This butterfly will emerge from her cocoon in a blaze of beautiful glory.

October 25
^th
,

I’ve seen her again—tried to drown her in my dreams.

Counts invited me to their meeting! I’m big time now.

Drown me—she was trying to drown me?

“The Counts,” Gage says.

“Logan?” I push the book to my chest. “When we get back I want to go over that list of names.”

The two of them exchange glances.

“What?” I ask. They’re keeping something from me. I relax the book against my knees. I’ll get the list myself when we get back, from Ellis if I have to. “Who was Emerson?”

“Pierce and Holden’s sister,” Gage whispers. “She was murdered about six months before Chloe died.”

“Chloe said she watched someone die, that she had blood on her hands. I bet she killed her. That’s what they were lording over her.” My breathing becomes unsteady.

Logan twitches his brows and gives a small shrug.

Nothing would surprise me about Chloe anymore.

October 31
^st
,

Michelle has gone psychotically insane trying to figure out what
Lex
and me are always ‘whispering’ about. I think in another month I’ll clue her in on our little secret,
Em
too. I’ll probably tell her Logan is a demon—although that might actually entice her. She knows enough to stay away from Gage.

Ellis’ party sucked just like him. Logan announced that he doesn’t want to see me anymore. He doesn’t think this is going to work. Well, too damn bad.

 
I call the shots. I decide the end.

November 2
^nd
,

Demetri
freaking
Edinger
came to town! I almost crapped my pants when I saw him at the gas station. Turns out his grandfather lives here. Weird.

Holden texted me, let me know the Counts have made all the necessary arrangements for Paragon’s newest resident. Of course, I put on the finishing touches myself, one well-placed BFF, and one well-placed boyfriend.

 
I have everyone where I want
them
—everyone working for me. Death will be like a well-needed vacation.

November 3
^rd
,

Dear Dairy, I’ll be signing off for a while. I have this creaky feeling in my bones that I could be headed into my cocoon any day now. I’ll be sealing you off as soon as I’m through writing this. I look forward to seeing you again—when I get back.

                                                                                   
Chloe

“What’s the name of the regional leader in L.A.?” My voice is clenched in a hoarse whisper. It all comes together for me. Chloe looking for someone just like her, bribing the
Kraggers
for information, giving away
Celestra
files, doing anything and everything to save her life, clawing her way out of death like a cat at the bottom of a well—Chloe light driving to L.A.

“I don’t remember.” Logan shakes his head.

“I do. D.
Edinger
.” My fingers shake as I turn the next few pages. Blank. Homecoming came and went and Chloe was busy being tormented by
Fems
or
Ezrina
or whoever the heck held her captive for two weeks before dumping her off on the side of the road like the piece of trash she was.

I peel back the final page, written on the inside cover in bold print reads,

People I Hate

Brody Bishop

Emerson
Kragger

Lexy
Bakova

Michelle Miller

Ellis Harrison

Gage Oliver

Skyla
Messenger

Chapter Forty-
Nine

The Death of You

I flex the diary upside down until the picture of
Ezrina
floats out, gentle as a leaf. I pluck it form the air before it has a chance to settle.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” I push the words out in an effort to ditch both Logan and Gage.

Chloe was the reason my father died. It was an all out hunt for someone like her, someone she could fool into liking her, someone as stupid as me to even think to bring her back. She probably whispered the idea in my sleep. Somehow she made sure I ended up on Paragon, trapped in her world to do her bidding.

I snatch the dagger off the table in one clean swipe and dash to the restroom, locking myself inside.

Chloe was right, this does change everything, although the jokes on her because she is never going to live to see it.

“
Skyla
!” The door bucks as Logan and Gage frantically scream my name.

I get on the floor and hold the knife close to my chest. I try to remember the last occasion I time traveled alone. For sure I had enough blood in me then. I’m not too concerned with whether or not I’ll get back. There’s always Chloe’s blood—and I plan on shedding quite a bit of it.

Logan and Gage burst through the door, just as I disappear.

***

Ellis’ party is going strong. I walk around back and spy Logan with his arms crossed talking to
Carly
. Her billowy hair flails in the wind—funny how her being a mom has changed my urge to slaughter her. Although on a night like tonight I fear for anyone who gets in my way.

Turns out Chloe has been hanging around the periphery of my life like a cyclone, ready and waiting for the wind to push her just right so she could knock down my house of cards.

I ditch past Gage just barely. I’ve impressed myself on him and he hungers to reprise that kiss. Maybe kissing Gage will be how I celebrate this fated night—it seems fitting in oh so many ways.

Then I see her, relaxed, with her feet up over the sofa. She wears a mile wide grin as she talks to Michelle.

I slip the dagger into the back of my jeans—feel the cold steel handle push into my flesh as I pull the picture of
Ezrina
out of my back pocket. I whisper her name like an incantation.

“Hey!” Chloe throws her legs over the side.

“You have a second?” I force a smile, crumbling the picture in my hand.

“Sure.” She looks over at Michelle. “Friend from out of town. Boy trouble. He’s a lot like Logan,” she sneers as we exit the room.

There’s an arctic chill in the air, but my anger has numbed me from the frosty bite of the elements. Dew settles quickly on my skin, my hair, my clothes, but I’m anesthetized from the effects. Hatred has a strange way of stripping your senses away and honing all of your energy into one pure stream of venom.

“Full moon,” she breathes the words as we progress towards the woods.

“It’s a blistering moon,” my voice comes from someplace else, too deep and arid to belong to me. “Can it be that?”