Ethereal Knights (12 page)

Skyla bounces back to her seat with an uncalled-for exuberance, and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with the task at hand. She glances over her shoulder while Logan helps Michelle with a “technical difficulty.” Michelle knows her way around this place as well as I do. The only technical difficulty she’s having is landing him on top of her, preferably undressed.

I jump up and take my turn, pretending the ball has magically morphed into Logan’s head. I nail that ball down the lane so fast and hard it lands a strike faster than a blink.

Skyla makes a face before glancing over at Logan again. His name lights up on Michelle’s screen just below Lexy’s.

“I thought he was working tonight,” she whispers as I land next to her.

“He’s the boss. Always doing what he likes.” I slink my arm over her seat touching her feather-soft hair in the process. I don’t bother reminding her that I’m still on the clock myself. Skyla seems to have a hard time keeping track of details when it comes to me.

Brielle lands another strike and lets out a hair-raising cry. Personally, I think she’s trying to give Drake a sample of what she’s capable of doing in bed—not that I would know, even though I was propositioned a time or two. But Bree’s like my sister, plus she’s not Skyla.

“Congratulations.” Skyla says it low as Bree waltzes by.

Brielle looks over at Logan and shakes her head. “Is that what’s bugging you?” She makes a face. “Logan has a way of getting around. Sorry. He’s just friendly that way.”

Skyla spins into me. “Is this true?” She’s so hurt she can hardly get the words out.

Looks like “Uncle Logan” is about to artfully hang himself with his prolifically friendly demeanor.

“I try not to affiliate myself with rumors.” The glee struggles to burst from my chest. “Judge for yourself.”   

Skyla glances back.

Logan has his hand on Michelle’s bare arm, trying to read her mind to end the mystery of the missing pendant, but regardless, he looks like a dick. Logan is desperate for far more reasons than I’m willing to admit. It’s more than a big deal to get that pendant back. Looks like the price is going to be a little higher than he thought.

Logan glances up at Skyla, and his eyes widen with panic. He gives a nervous wink before reverting his attention back to Michelle. Loverboy is going to have a lot of explaining to do. I sink in my seat, trying to hide the look of satisfaction blooming on my face. Extra-curricular girlfriends and hopeless explanations are the last thing a girl wants in a budding relationship. Logan’s an ex-boyfriend in the making, and I’ll be right there ready to comfort Skyla once she kicks him to the curb.

Logan and Michelle share a laugh, and Skyla’s features dim to pitch.

The curb might be a little closer than I think. 

9

Logan

Picking up Steam

Rain trembles from the sky in never-ending spurts of passion. The sky itself has come down and wrapped its limbs around the island, moaning and groaning, rolling its wet tongue over every orifice until the soil quakes with pleasure.

The bowling alley is pumping. Every thirteen-year-old on the planet has descended upon us today. A popular girl from the local middle school is celebrating her gateway into the hormonal years and has invited about six hundred of her closest braces-wielding friends. Not that I mind, especially since each friend came equipped with a pocket full of dough ready and willing to land in my cash register. Nope, don’t mind at all.

“What’s up?” Gage strides in eleven minutes late, but it’s raining hellfire out there, so I don’t call him on it.

“Just hanging out.” I frown at the bounce house this place has morphed into.

“Michelle dropped by earlier. I told her you were here, she show yet?”

I pan the area. “Nope. Probably saw the parking lot filled with angry soccer moms and decided to split.”

“I asked her how things were going, and she said you two were solid.” His dark brows lift as if they’re about to fly right off his forehead.

“She wishes.”

“So how are you going to do it? You know, get the diary without lighting Skyla’s insides on fire.”

“Watch your euphemism,” I warn. He knows damn well the only way to truly kill a Celestra is by fire.

“Who knows…” He leans against the counter and shrugs. “Maybe you will kill her—where it really counts.”

I glance up at him. He’s right, and he knows it. The truth is she’s got the same power to break my heart, more in fact, to kill me quite efficiently. It already hurts like hell knowing a part of her belongs to Gage. I shake the thought away. I’ll have to squash this thing between Gage and Skyla, quick like a reflex. I don’t want to do it—I just have to.

For now, I’d better change the subject.

“I think if I ever want to see that pendant again I’ll need a supervising spirit.” I nod. “Can they change things?”

“I don’t know. But my dad says to stay away from that shit. He said once you get wrapped up in stuff like that, it could cost you everything. Just deal with it. The pendant is gone. It’s not like you need it.”

“Skyla does.”

Gage ticks his head back as his face bleaches white. The reality just hit home. It could protect her better than either he or I ever could.

“I thought you were on some quest to get it back because you knew your grandmother would die all over again if you lost it.”

“I gave her my word.” I hold up a hand. “But I thought about it, and now I want it just for Skyla.” My phone gives a soft buzz. It’s a text from the girl who stole my heart.   

Where are you? I’m doing time at B’s. She’s getting busy with monkey boy. ~S

I stare at my phone for a very long time. She’s at Brielle’s. I could make up some lame excuse—saddle Gage with a thousand hungry middle-graders and spend the afternoon with my dream girl.

“Is that Michelle?” he asks, taking the helm at the register as the line snakes all the way out the arcade.

“No, it’s Skyla. Do me a favor, and try not to tell her too much about things. I want to do it myself.”

Gage pauses a good long time before answering. “Done.”

I text her back.

Work. Want to come? I can use the help. Must be a great day to bowl. What is B doing with a monkey?

“Hey, Logan?” Gage asks, while his customer digs through her purse for change. “Do
me
a favor.”

“What’s that?” I ask, glancing over his features, and my stomach clenches. Of course Skyla is going to fall for him and those tubs digging into his cheeks. What girl wouldn’t?

“Don’t do anything with her.” He says it low like an apology.

He grips onto me with that ironclad stare. He wants my balls on lockdown until we figure this out.

“All right. For now.” My phone buzzes again.

Trust me, I’d much rather help u. It is the perfect day for bowling. And to answer your question, rutting. ~S

I let out a laugh and show Gage the phone before texting her back.

Rutting?! You have a way with words. You should write poetry.

Funny, because I just gave that same advice to Gage not too long ago concerning Skyla. My insides pinch at the thought of them writing poems to each other and having no one to blame but myself.

I’ll save my poems for you. I promise they will not include the word rutting. Ever. ~S

Gage leans in and balks at the text.

“Rutting?” He shakes his head. “I would like to do lots of things to that body—rutting isn’t one of them.”

Rutting is my new favorite word. BTW, Gage wants me to give you a message. He very much looks forward to rutting with you.

I flash the phone at Gage so he can revel in my literary artistry. Let the poet take note.

The phone buzzes again.

Tell Gage any time. I’m waiting and coincidentally very lonely at this very moment. ~S

“Ha!” Gage barks in my face. “Now that you mention it, I can totally see myself rutting with Skyla.”

I send a quick text trying to rectify my stupidity.

Never mind. I suddenly have a great disdain for the word rutting. You must never rut with Gage. Promise me this.

Jealousy burns through me—splits my heart a mile wide.

Will you rut with others? Turnabout is fair play. ~S

Hell fucking
, No.

Promise. ~S

I replace the phone in my pocket and look up at Gage. It feels like I just stepped out of the lion’s den.

Gage gives the hint of a wicked smile before getting back to the customer in front of him.

I may be out of the lion’s den, but the self-proclaimed king of the jungle just so happens to be standing right next to me.

I need to slay the beast that Gage has quickly become.

I just can’t figure out how.

Gage

In the middle of the week, on a haze-free day, practice drags on for hours before the cheerleaders ever step onto the field. The coach has us running circles around each other, literally, but for the last fifteen minutes, my attention has been clearly divided. Instead, I’ve been diligently watching Skyla, following her every move as she runs and jumps in her West cheer uniform like a beautiful flame. She goes for a high kick and her ankle turns, sending her spilling to the ground.

“She’s hurt.” I meant to shout it to Logan, but Coach hears and jogs over with us. 

A small circle hovers over her by the time we get there, and Coach drops to his knees to inspect it. I don’t see any sign of Ms. Richards around, so I guess that leaves him in charge by default. 

“How’d you do this?” Coach barks at her like she’s one of the guys. He sticks his fingers over her swollen ankle and digs in.

“Nice method of evaluation”—she bats him away—“if this were the middle ages.”

Coach’s eyes spring open, wide as baseballs, as he struggles to his feet. Nobody talks to the coach that way, except for Skyla apparently. I twitch a smile to Logan, who looks equally amazed.

“Ice it. Stay off it for a day or two. Nothing’s broken.” He claps his hands together in an effort to disperse the crowd.

Logan picks Skyla up and strides right past me.

“Where to?” he asks.

“I need ice.” Her voice shakes. She winces with every other step he takes. You can see the pain on her face, plain as the fog.

“I know just the place,” Logan says, glancing over at me. If he thinks he’s getting rid of me, he’s wrong. I’ve already settled into her life, taken up residency, and burrowed down roots. He may as well get used to the idea of me being in Skyla’s life in more ways than one.

Brielle joins us as we speed over to Logan’s truck.

“There’s no way you’ll get her in there,” she says, looking up at the second-story cab.

Logan motions me over, and I hold the door open, blocking Brielle’s view in the process. Logan hoists her up as if she were no heavier than a bouquet of flowers and lays her across the seat before strapping her in.

I jump into the bed of the truck and settle in as we take off.

The window in the back is cracked open, and I can hear Skyla groan as Logan guns it out of the parking lot.

“First sunny day in a week, and I blow it,” she says.

“Blaming yourself for an injury is a defeatist attitude.” Logan espouses my dad’s advice as if he coined the phrase himself. Nice. I’ll have to watch what I say around him in the event he tries to pass it off as his own pearl of wisdom. “It’s time to relax and let your body heal,” he adds. Now that, I agree with.

“Wise and true.” Skyla looks through the window at me and gives a little wave.

Logan takes a left at the intersection, and I exhale with relief as we head toward our home instead of hers. I still can’t get used to Skyla living at the old Bishop house. I think Skyla and I need to make some new memories there to get my head out of the past once and for all.

“Falls of Virtue?” she asks.

“Nope.’” Logan looks over his shoulder at me to see if I’m still here. “I know somewhere with much stronger healing properties. The foods pretty good, too.”

“If there’s an ER involved, count me out. I hate hospitals almost as much as I hate blood.” The fear in her voice is palpable. You’d think they slaughtered people there instead of healed them.

“No ER, I promise,” he says, taking the road a little stiffer than before.

“Is there rutting involved?” Her flirtation charges the air.

“Only if you want there to be.”

Shit. The last thing I want is to be privy to some warped sexual banter between the two of them, although I’d pay in gold to have the roles reversed—Logan back here writhing with jealousy, me in there passing time while Skyla flirts relentlessly.

“There’s a yellow lab named Charlie,” he starts. “Some hot chocolate, a grilled cheese sandwich, and an ice pack involved—maybe some reality TV.”

“Sounds like heaven,” she sings.

“Almost is.”

Almost is, my ass. It feels like anything but heaven having to sit, front and center, and listen in on Logan’s dime store pick-up lines.

The truck jerks, and I clasp onto the side to keep from flying out like a Frisbee. A black convertible barrels in our direction at demonic speeds—same lane.

Shit.

“Do something!” Skyla screams.

Logan is locked in with traffic on the left—a sheer cliffside to the right.

“Aw, fuck.” I jump out of the truck and hope to God I can levitate. It’s the only power I’ve yet to hone that a Levatio is supposed to have mastered by the time they’re ten.

I think of Skyla and the danger she’s in as I hoist the truck chassis over my shoulders. I think of Logan and his happy-go-lucky whistle, and we float higher than I’ve ever left the earth before. We sail through the air like a metallic cloud. Logan’s arm dips out of the window as he snaps a picture of the idiots in the oncoming car. 

I land the truck, and it bounces as I hop back into the bed.

Skyla stares over at me, her mouth dangling open in disbelief.