Elysian (21 page)

Nev hops to my bed and hitches me over with a tick of his head.

“What’s up?” I land my fingers gently on his back.

I’m not a fan of feathered creatures
.

“Ironic. Hate to break it to you, but you
are
one.” I scoot next to him. “So, what’s going on? Are you here to fill me in on Ezrina’s big, bad secret?”

You mean you still don’t know?
His wings expand and retract.

“Nope. Apparently Ezrina is excellent at keeping things from me. Hey, I know—I’ll ask Marshall, and he’ll find out.” I’ll simply tell him I’m willing to pay any price.

Do yourself a favor and make haste with the task. This is time-sensitive information.

“Shit. Is my mother going to zap you out of existence, too?” I swear on all that is holy, I will go batshit if that’s the case.

No, I fear for a friend—a few friends to be exact, and one of them is you.

Nevermore hops to the windowsill and lets himself out. He stains the orange sky with his marvelous wingspan, nothing but dark plumes over the sanguine heavens.

He fears for a friend. He fears for me.

Curious.

***

Downstairs I’m treated to a scene I’m ill-prepared for. Mom and my sisters hyperventilate over stacks of newspapers while hacking through them as if their lives depended on it. Tad sits with his man teats exposed while the faux nipple, that will one day turn out to be the root of all that is wrong with poor baby Beau, is strapped to his chest like an explosives device.

Oh my, fuck.

“Hand me the baby, and no one gets hurt,” I say, holding out my hands for Tad to surrender the infant, but he doesn’t. He smirks as Beau latches on and begins to nurse off him as if it were the most unnatural thing in the world. And holy shit it so is.

“What in the hell is going on?” I bark.

Clearly seeing me in a fragile state last night really lit the mental fuse in my mother. She’s hacking up colorful newspaper clippings in such a furtive pace she hardly manages to glance in my direction.

“Morning.” She nods hardly acknowledging this strange adventure. She’s obviously experiencing some kind of nervous breakdown after discovering the Fem she quasi-courted was responsible for the damage inflicted on me last night.

“Skyla help,” Mia pleads. Her hair is swept back, and she’s still in her PJ’s, not at all ready for school. “Mom has reduced us to manual labor.”

“She’s not even letting us get in the shower until we finish all these rows,” Melissa snarks as she scowls at Mom.

“What is this?” I speed over, ready and willing to gawk at anything that isn’t Tad’s third nipple.

“Extreme couponing.” Mom manages while snatching a stack of tiny squares from Mia and Melissa before they float into the air like confetti. “Isis turned me onto it. It’s part of her ten-point plan to help decrease the financial bleeding in this family.”

“Bleeding?” I involuntarily touch my neck. Is she even aware of her play on words?

And who takes financial advice from a glorified snake? Speaking of the nonsensical Fem, I’ve been meaning to set up an appointment with her regarding Giselle’s caged memory.

“Tell her, Lizbeth,” Tad crows while holding Beau upside down by the ankles. God, it just gets worse. He’s probably trying to keep the crap in.

Mom takes a breath, frustrated by the talking human baby bottle.

“Lights on for an hour at breakfast and an hour for dinner.” Mom shudders. “Showers are relegated to every other day…” She strums her fingers against her chin, trying to recall the rest of the advice Isis put into practice in the first part of the twentieth century.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Mom goes off course for a moment. “I need to call and cancel the trash pickup.”

“What?” I pull a seat at the table and fall into it. “First, you are aware that the island is covered with a dark cloud at any given hour of the day. Have you ever heard of night blindness? We’ll have it permanently if you try to make us live in the dark. We
need
electricity. That’s what made the twentieth century better than all of the rest—we need to maintain manufactured light, or we’re going to be no better than cave people.”

Mom clicks her tongue at me. “Oh, Skyla, we’ll burn candles. And there’s nothing like a fire to keep us toasty and warm.” She gives a quick wink.

Why does it suddenly feel like a vague, underlying threat was just delivered by the very woman whose arms I cuddled in last night while calling her
mommy
?

“And second…” I choose to ignore the mention of matches for now. “We have to bathe
every
day. It’s like the eleventh commandment, followed by, thy must take out the freaking trash.” Honestly, you would think she and Tad singlehandedly wanted to take down the social standing of each of their precious children. “And who the hell is going to want to sit with us if we smell like dirt and onions?”

“Very funny.” Mom makes a face at the scattered mess on the table. “Girls, you can get ready for school.” She looks up at me and mouths the words, “Are you OK?”

I give a quiet nod as she pulls me into a strong bear hug.

“I talked to Demetri,” she whispers. “He’s going to try and help.”

“Really?” I pull back with a thread of excitement. Amazingly I feel like a panhandler who finally received her first red-hot penny. And did this act of questionable mercy come from my biological mother? Nope.

Figures. 

“Yes, really.” Mom speeds me into the kitchen away from Tad and his nosy nipples. “He says all you have to do is leave Celestra and join our group. It’ll be fun.” She adds that last part coaxing me along.

Shit.

“No, it would not be fun,” I say with my voice laden with defeat. “It would be surrender.”    

***

Friday night, at the football game, I spot Marshall wafting in and out of the fog like a ghost. The bare maples spread out behind him like a skeleton, their leaves already fanned across the lawn in a kaleidoscope of browns and golds.

I speed over in my barely-there cheer uniform. God forbid Chloe sees me defecting from the group. She’ll probably have me turning in my miniskirt before the end of the evening. Sometimes I think the only thing Chloe loves is cheer itself.

Just what in the hell is she going to do with herself after graduation? Oh, that’s right, according to Chloe she won’t be here. As
if
. I’m never that lucky. I’ve got a mother who practically rules the universe, and yet my name might as well be Skyla Misfortune Messenger. Nope. I seriously doubt Chloe will bite the dust as a graduation gift to me. She’ll definitely be hanging around for Gage, crawling after him on her knees in the supermarket, the gas station. I predict a permanent restraining order is in the works.

“Ms. Messenger.” Marshall wears his dark trench coat, inky jeans, and that black dress shirt that drives me freaking insane.

“Mr. Dudley.” I glance around to make sure no one witnesses the event. “Nevermore says Ezrina’s got a secret—
spill
.”

He cocks his head amused. “Oh really? The bird whispers, and I’m to leap at his command?”

“No.” I lay my hand over his chest and create a soft letter S all the way down to the lip of his jeans. “Your spirit wife is whispering, and you’re to leap at
her
command. That would be me, by the way.” I sharpen my tone during that last part.

“Is that so?” Marshall takes a step into me with a tender, playful smile skirting his lips. Marshall shines like the moon despite the fog’s best effort to make him look like an illusion.

“Yes, damn it. Tell me. There’s so much I want to know, and I feel like the entire world—all of creation is keeping things from me.”

“All of creation?” He frowns openly at my declaration. “A bit mellow dramatic don’t you think?”

“No.” I shake my head affronted by his insult. “I don’t think it’s mellow dramatic because it happens to be true. Now, would you please be the wonderful angel you are and tell me what in the hell is going on?”

“As to?” He says it bored. His affect slides right off his face as if he’s had enough.

“First, Ezrina’s big reveal. Second, what’s up with Logan? Something’s been off since the war. Third, who do I end up with?” I wanted to ask who do I choose but don’t want to insult him. Besides, I’m no longer in the market to choose. The future already knows, and that’s good enough for me. I think.

“None of your business. None of your business. And
me
.” Marshall cinches his cheek.

“Funny.” I take my hand off his chest and take up his hand. “It is my business.”

“Perhaps I’ll answer, but, quite frankly, I’m insulted you didn’t ask the most pertinent question of all.”

“Which is, why does Chloe believe she’ll be gone in a year?” I look up at him hopeful because he
so
has the power to make this the greatest night of my life with that little morsel.

Marshall jostles my hand. “You’re correct. I could very well make this the greatest night of your life.” A lewd grin buds slowly across his face. “And, believe me, it is no little morsel.”

“No thanks.” I lower my lids as I step into him. “And, I remember—it
is
quite an impressive non-morsel.” Heat rises to my cheeks as I take a quick step away. “Now. What was the most important question?”

“How are you going to retrieve the pendant to save me from impending doom?”

I dip my chin and look up at him from under my lashes.

“Would my mother really make you disappear?”

“It’s a banishment. Hades is synonymous with disappearance. My name would be removed from the
Book of Life
, and I would be no more.”

“She’s sending you to hell?” I glance up at the thinly veiled sky, and a star winks right at me. “Nice job, Mother.” I glare out into open space for a moment.

“Don’t be too surprised. It was designed for fallen angels. A sort of heated pen if you will. And I do hate the heat, Skyla. We must devise a plan of action to free the Eye of Refuge from Ms. Bishop’s claws.”

“One of those claws happens to be mine.” I shrug apologetically.

The announcer calls out the teams, and the crowd breaks out in a horrific roar as if Cerberus himself just took to the field.

“I’d better go,” I whisper.

“Will I see you later?” Marshall runs his finger along my jawline, and my entire person electrifies with fire.

“Not unless you’re going to Chloe’s after.” I make a face. “Hey!” I latch onto his shirt and shake him. “Why the hell isn’t Ellis back, and why is there a binding spirit keeping me out of the Transfer?” See? I knew there were way more secrets than I could ever keep track of.

He pushes out a gentle laugh. “You know my fuel, Skyla. A kiss will drive you beyond the borders of everything you’ve ever wanted to know.”

That magical erotic journey he took me on the other night replays itself, and my entire person flushes with heat.

Chloe drills a whistle through the air, cutting through the noise of the crowd and the screams of the cheerleaders, mostly Lexy—she’s like a Chihuahua on the field.

“Maybe I
will
give you that kiss,” I say. Our eyes lock for a minute, and I’m certain he’s more than willing to gift me a tongue-lashing.

“Messenger!” Chloe’s voice rips through the night, and I’m shocked to see her manhandling a megaphone. Figures. Now she can direct all her cheers toward Gage like a good little stalker, or more accurately, huntsman.

“See you later,” I say it as sultry as possible before heading toward the lineup. “I can’t wait to get to the bottom of this,” I whisper, turning around, but Marshall’s gone, evaporated into thin air—a preview of what my mother will do if I don’t get that damn pendant back.

Why in the hell does everything keep rotating back to Chloe?

I head over and sandwich myself between Brielle and Giselle.

“Hey”—I look to the two of them—“you know what? I just realized your names rhyme.”

The entire cheer squad looks over at me as if I’ve just sprouted a third arm, which would technically make me the most valuable cheerleader ever. I pick up my pompoms and freeze midflight.

Fuck.

Brielle and
Emerson
so do not rhyme. Shit.

Chloe gets in my face with that crazed look in her eye before squinting into me as if she were reading me like a book.

“What the hell are you on, Messenger?” She shouts it in my face viral as a hurricane blast.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I got confused. I was with Dudley.” Crap. I’m going to confess my questionable relationship with my math teacher right into Chloe’s megaphone if I’m not careful. “You know how disorienting he can be. Right, Michelle?” I glance down at her chest and am shocked as hell to see the unholy rose of terror has sprung back up on her neck. What the fuck? It’s as if it has some serious rebound properties, and no matter how many times I take the thing away, it crops right back on her person as if it belonged there—although, she looks lucid, not at all hysterical. I’ll have to ask Marshall if it’s lost its haunting properties. Michelle Miller is one of the reasons my favorite creatures in the universe might be shoved in a hand basket to hell sooner than later.

“Are you trying to throw me off my game?” It swims smooth from Chloe’s lips just as West’s football team runs onto the field. Logan and Gage each nod in my direction as they speed toward the distal goal line.

“I couldn’t throw you off your game if I tried, Chloe,” I say, never taking my eyes off those gorgeous boys running down the field. The two of them are wide as buildings with their shoulder pads on. “And believe me, Chloe, I have fucking tried.”

She lingers a little longer than anticipated while the girls break out in cheers around us.

“Are you giving up, Skyla?” Her eyes darken to pitch. A wicked smile glides over her lips because she damn well knows I would just as soon dig my own grave than give up on eliminating her from the game of life.

“You and I both know the answer.” Figures. The one answer I have and it has to do with eradicating Chloe from the planet.