Ethereal (24 page)

“We are.” I thumb back at the house. “Can I move in with you?” I ask hopeful, knowing full well my parents wouldn’t allow it. I doubt at this point I could even spend the night, which reminds me, I should bring her a copy of the legal document they drew up on my behalf. I bet her mother would choke on her soy late if she laid eyes on it. She might even spring for a lawyer in an effort to help me get legally emancipated from such barbaric circumstances.
 

“
Yes
. That would be a blast. And for sure my mom wouldn’t care about whatever has them miffed. Don’t your sisters love it here? And what about Drake? You can’t take Drake.” She spreads her hand in front of her in a mild panic. I watch mesmerized as her long pale fingers melt into the fog. I’ve never noticed before what pretty fingernails she has. Mine are so brittle they never make it past my skin.

“My sisters hate the house. They think it’s haunted. And Drake’s a moron. Nobody listens to him.” True and true. I take the blame for my sisters, but I stand by what I said about Drake. At the end of the day though, he’s not half bad, plus Brielle likes him and I like Brielle.
 

“Oh ho-
ney
!” She rubs my back over and over until her mother comes out to join us.

Brielle fills her in on the situation.

“Well you just got here. They need to give the place a shot. Its no wonder they think you’re acting out. You’re just trying to piece together this new life they gave you. I bet no one asked your opinion when they left L.A.”

Actually they did, but now that I think back, when they asked
if
I was all for the move
it was probably just a rhetorical question.

“Natalie’s having an end of summer party. Her parents have a beach house on the coast and she does this big bonfire every year. You’ll have to come. I’ll take you at gunpoint if I have to.” Brielle gives a small laugh.

“Gunpoint?” I muse. “It might be the only way.”

                                                       
***

I call Logan with the devastating news. He doesn’t say anything for a real long time, and it makes me wonder if he’s still on the other line.

“It’s my fault.” He offers.

“No trust me. Everything is
my
fault these days.”

“I can’t believe this.” He blows out a breath. “I can visit.”

“I doubt they’ll let you.”

“We’ll apply to the same universities.”

“And if we don’t get in the same ones?”

“Paragon has an awesome community college.”

I perk up a little. We make a depressing round of small talk before hanging up. It’s probably better that I’m away from Paragon. I’m a walking time bomb. I reach over and snatch Chloe’s diary off my nightstand. I pull it in close to my chest and let it warm against my body.

I swore to her I’d never read it. I’m not really afraid of Chloe haunting me or even showing up in my dreams anymore. It’s like we’re old friends. I don’t think I’d mind it.
 

I roll around on my bed as sleep eludes me.

Wish I had that pendant. Wish I could give it back to Logan—keep it at the same time.

Wish it were Tad instead of me that this nebulous enemy was trying to kill.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Spree

Brielle’s mom, Darla, has become the new go-between for me and my parents. She somehow gets them to let me have a sleepover with Bree tonight
and
attend Natalie’s party tomorrow. Clearly, she could sell snow to an Eskimo and sand to an Arab. The only concession being, that she would be present the entire time. It’s not her fault she forgot she had a date with her boyfriend. But she trusts us. It’s nice to be treated like an adult by somebody.
 

“What exactly does your mom do?” I ask fanning my nails back and forth over my head. I convinced Brielle we should both have black fingernails for tomorrow in expression of our deep, deep mourning over me leaving.
 
I actually heard mom say she was glad she didn’t unpack the last of the boxes, and how much she didn’t look forward to starting the process all over again.

“She works in real estate. She wasn’t the one who sold your parents the house, but she was amazed they bought it sight unseen.”

“Tad’s stupid that way.” I say chipping off a dried bit of paint from off the fleshy part of my thumb.

“You really think they’re going to send you to an all girls school?” Brielle would probably have some sort of hormonal meltdown if she had to do that. It would be like sequestering the fox from the chicken coop.

“If it costs money, no. Tad can squeeze pennies from his ass. And he won’t spend a single one of them on me.” I pull my knees up and smooth out my long white nightdress. “I found Chloe’s secret room.” I wonder why she hadn’t told me about it herself, but I figured maybe it was too painful, too many memories, or that it was
their
space.

“Are the butterflies still there?” She stops fanning her nails midair.

“All of them.”
 

A steady set of heavy footsteps rises slowly up the stairs.

Brielle and I head into panic mode and sit up, each in our own corner of the bed.

“Who’s there?” She shouts.

I break free from my paralysis and slam the door shut before they have a chance to answer.

“There’s no lock!” Her voice shrills out to nothing.

I pan the area, but there’s no dresser, not one thing of great heft that could keep someone out. A pair of black oversized scissors garners my attention. I leap over to the desk and arm myself.

A slow methodical knock, rasps against the door.

Brielle lets out a bloodcurdling scream before ducking under her pillow.

My heart thumps unnaturally, like a thousand wild horses trampling through my bloodstream. I try and steady my breathing, try and ignore the thought of mom and my sisters mourning me at my funeral—Logan—his disappointment in me when he realizes I don’t have the pendant. All I know for sure is I’m going to kill the beast on the other side of the door. I’m going to start stabbing and not stop. I’m going to show the Counts that I’m willing to fight. I’ll fight harder than Chloe, if she did fight at all. I’ll make it impossible for them to keep me for two weeks alive. And I promise on my father’s grave, no one is going to breed me like a dog in a kennel.

The door swings open and a tall man in a trench coat stands erect and threatening less than a foot away. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I plant the first puncture deep in his flesh right above his stomach—dead center.

He doubles over and lets out a yell as he falls to his knees. I jab wildly at his back, but I can’t penetrate his leather coat. Before I can go for his eyes, Darla shows up and binds my wrist with her hands, while joining me in a series of wild primitive screams.

“Shut up! Shut up!” I hear her shout. “Darrell!” She rolls him over and he lets out a groan before passing out. She looks right at me. “Call 911. I think you just killed my boyfriend.”

                                                                   
***

Tad and mom sit stunned across from me at the kitchen table.

The police officers actually commended me for defending myself so well. Since we weren’t expecting anyone, naturally we thought he was an intruder. Of course I thought I
knew,
he was a Fem hired out to kill me for my pure angelic blood, but I don’t share any of that information because it sounds ludicrous, and the psych ward at Paragon Hospital isn’t exactly where I want to sleep tonight, or any night ever.

“Were the two of you drinking?” Tad asks rather morbidly.

“No. I don’t drink.”

“Smoking weed?” He continues with his exceptionally calm inquisition.

“I don’t do that either. And no we weren’t doing anything, but our nails.” I hold up my black smudged fingertips trying to ignore the fact I probably still have blood encrusted in them.

“If he decides to press charges, this could go on your record.” My mother is in a genuine state of panic.

“He’s not going to. The officer I talked to said it was self-defense, and I won’t get in trouble. Besides, they said it probably wasn’t more than a flesh wound.”

Tad shakes his head. “It’s like you’ve become this huge liability overnight. Did it ever occur to you to ask who it was?”

“We did.” I think
Tad’s
the liability.

My cell goes off and it’s a text from Logan.

I’ve long suspected you were lethal.

I slip my phone back under my thigh. I don’t feel like ticking off Tad or my mother anymore by texting while they try to break me.

“We think you need counseling, Skyla.” My mother measures her words. Her cheeks have hollowed out since we’ve been here, and she has dark circles under her eyes the size of half dollars.

“We met with a local therapist a few days ago.” Tad interjects. “It was just a consult. We never imagined you were capable of something like this, but now I’m afraid we’re going to have to insist.”

“I don’t have any problem going to a therapist.” If he’s on Paragon, they’ll have to stay.

“I’m really glad you feel that way.” Tad gives a sad smile. “We called him a few minutes ago. He thinks we should bring you in for a full evaluation this evening.”

“It’s two in the morning. What kind of doctor works at this hour?” I ask. Something doesn’t smell right.

“Actually,” my mom says with tears in her eyes. “He wants you to check into the hospital so you can have a goodnights rest when he’s ready to see you.” Her lips twitch. Her lips always twitch when she stretches the truth.

“Are you taking me to the psych ward?” Words I never thought would come from my lips.

“Yes.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

Spooked

Paragon hospital lies smack in the center of the island. The fog has rolled back into the sea, and I see the bare naked landscape under the harsh disclosure of a sharp white moon.

Tad confiscated my cell phone before we left the house. I wasn’t allowed to say bye to the girls because they were sleeping. Drake came out looking sleep deprived, and when they told him where they were taking me and why, his face bleached out.

The doctor will probably discover things about me I never knew—that I’m a killer and lock me up forever. I really believe that somehow I killed Chloe. Even if I wasn’t responsible for the destruction of her life, I hastened it just like Logan implied.

We pull into a tall rectangle of a building. A glossy white brick path leads into a set of double sliding doors, and a blast of warm air hits me. I hadn’t even realized I was cold.

The elevator goes up for days, spits us out onto violent red carpet and a reception area with a nurse out front. A set of double wood doors with tiny, boxed shaped windows is the only other thing around.

A male nurse in bright blue scrubs emerges from inside. He holds the door open and extends his hand for us to enter.

I’m part way inside before I notice my mother and Tad aren’t trailing. Tad is already pushing the button for the next set of elevators, and my mother gives a silent wave as the nurse shuts the door behind him.

They weren’t going to come inside. No long, drawn out goodbye, no kiss from my mother—just a half hearted wave goodbye—the cold slam of the door.

                                                        
***

Tears fill the crook of my arm. I lay on a glorified elongated box that’s bolted into the floor with no sheets and no pillow, locked in a dark room by myself.

“Skyla.” A familiar voice originates from the side.

I jump back and scream. There’s a small ray of light beaming in from the nurses station.

“It’s me, Gage.”

I rush into his arms and collapse in a fit of heaving sobs.