Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7) (26 page)

Morley’s always been a little off.
Logan shakes his head.
Now I know why
.

“Tell her to step lively.” Ingram instructs without acknowledging Ezrina at all. He treats us like we’re animals—cattle.

“Ingram?” Ezrina shrills, loud and sharp.

“Step inside.” He all but ignores her. “Your caller has an engagement this evening.”

“I have never hated you.” Ezrina seethes as she steps into his face. “I have held fast that you did what was needed—but
this
?” She growls with an intensity I had no idea I was capable of.

What in the hell is she talking about?
I say.
God, she’s going to ruin everything. If she keeps this psychotic shit up, he’ll have me locked in the darkest part of the dungeon while a mob of bloodthirsty Counts ravage me all night long.

Ingram takes a cool step back and examines my body for less than a moment. “Control her, or she’ll have to be restrained,” he says in a soft voice with no real malfeasance behind it.

I can tell by the look on my face that he’s managed to piss Ezrina sky-high with his lack of general affect.

“Restrained?” She gives a quiet laugh. “Move in my direction and see what happens.”

What the hell are you doing?
Logan grabs her by the wrist.

I knew it!
I panic.
I knew we couldn’t trust her. She’s going to do something stupid to ensure a free ride on the Skyla express for the next eighty years.

Ezrina seals us off from her thoughts the way Gage does when we’re together. Of course, now I know why he was locking himself away from me mentally. He was just fielding me for Chloe.

Logan escorts us down the long dark path as the Tenebrous Woods encapsulates us with its spiny depraved arms. The deep navy fog comes to life with screams and moans—a subtle cry for help that sounds so faint and desperate it makes me wonder if that soul is in its final hours.

I scan the chambers for people, but the first few are empty. Eventually, we come upon two women who sit back to back. They’ve both been restrained at the wrists and ankles with thick oppressive chains. The woman on the right is frightfully pale, her skin sags from a lack of nutrition and her grey lips hang low as if she hadn’t the strength to close her mouth. 

It’s nothing but one horror after another down here. It’s so perverse, so twisted. Each Count responsible should rotate on a spit in hell for even thinking this is OK.

I’m sorry, Skyla
, Logan says, pressing his hand in the small of Ezrina’s back as he leads her to the dark pit of my former, and very present, misery
. I had no
idea she
was going to be such a loose cannon.          

Well, she did hack off my arm—that could have afforded you a clue,
I say.

Logan’s chest rolls in silent laughter.
I made sure to add a no hacking clause in the contract.

Never mind,
I say.
I’m thrilled she’s offered to vet the pain for me. It’s beyond brutal. So why were you missing? You scared the hell out of me. And, by the way, your uncle and aunt are beyond worried.
Gage is too, but I don’t bother wasting Logan’s energy on anything to do with him.

It’s part of the deal. I told her I’d stick around to give her and Nevermore the honeymoon of a lifetime
.

Oh my gosh, that’s… eww
. The visual alone puts me off.

I don’t make a habit of watching.
He’s quick to correct
. And believe me, I wish I couldn’t listen.

So that’s what you were doing?

That would be it. She put me in a chamber and induced a deep sleep.

Logan pulls Ezrina back by the fingers and nods over to the room with the giant wooden T-bar and manacles dripping from a long rusted chain. She goes over and Logan locks the bracelets over her wrists, secures her feet with the metal loops that strap into the ground. I can feel his heart breaking, his fury rising.

“Ingram,” Ezrina says, dusting him with a frosty look, “come.”

Ingram glances at Logan before heading over.

Ezrina doesn’t speak. Instead, she hawks back all of the phlegm she can manage and showers his strange glowing skin with a fresh batch of spittle.

Shit
. Logan and I espouse in unison.

Freaking Ezrina.

She was using you
, I say.
And now she’s ruining
me.

I’ve never been so afraid and yet so comforted than I am now with Logan. I can spend an eternity with him like this, wrapped in this indescribable intimacy, and with Ezrina in charge, I just might have to. 

Ingram steps away and Wesley swoops in from out of the shadows.

“Boy, you’re really pissed today.” His eyes widen with a mixture of fear and wonder. Not only does he look like he could be Gage’s brother, but his voice is a perfect match as well.

Ingram shoulders up to Logan. “As her Elysian, I suggest you instruct the caller to bleed her dry. The sooner we have a hellion like this removed, the better. Those with fresh fight in them are usually nothing but trouble for the long haul.” He gives a quick nod and glares into Logan. “At once.”

“Bleed her dry.” Logan’s voice resonates high and strong like he means it.

Am I going die?

No—but Ezrina might.

Chapter 37

Triple Dose

I dream in misery. My body is submerged in the deepest part of the sea, inhaling algae by the gallon. I’m incapable of dying in this horror that’s cocooned me. Gage swims toward me, his hair dances soft and buoyant. I beg for a breath from his lungs, for his lips to nurture mine, to absolve this grief I’m embedded in—but he doesn’t come. He looks up and I follow his gaze to find Chloe with her perfect limbs, a black wreath of tresses framing her nefarious smile. She pours something heavy and toxic straight from a bottle, dumps it right over my head—bleach. It’s sodden liquid sinks around me, envelops me in a septic cloud. I take it in through my nose—it scorches my lungs like flames. 

I jolt out of the nightmare.

Snatches of stolen blinks and whispers clutter this dark new world.

The smell of smoke, the sound of laughter congests my lungs and ears. My lids are pasted shut with grit as I struggle to open my eyes.

“I’ve got you. You’re OK.” Gage depresses a wet kiss over my forehead as I begin to rouse from this aching slumber. I focus on the breeze that lingers, its cool embrace over that small token of affection he dropped. Gage picks me up and jostles us over the ebony sand of Rockaway as he shouts something indistinguishable.

Marshall appears, hovering over me, inspecting the damage. His face elongates unnaturally, and the world fades to grey.

“Open your eyes, Skyla.” Marshall’s voice sears my eardrums with its virulent command. “You must stay with us.” His echo pulls out indefinitely. “Take her to your home at once.”

The atmosphere changes. A familiar scent fills me with an intense rise of pleasure, and I’m suddenly greedy for air—taking in breaths like water in the desert.

“Skyla.” Gage hums my name, rocks me in his arms like a dying child he’s determined to save. A cool, damp towel pats over my cheek, and it’s enough to inspire me to open my eyes.

I recognize this place—Gage’s bedroom.

He pours water from a bottle over one of his stray T-shirts and presses it against my neck and forehead.

The door flies open, Dr. Oliver and Marshall burst into the room in an angry rush, and for a moment I wonder if their anger is directed at me.

“Good God!” Barron’s face contorts with shock. “She’s sheer alabaster.”

“Two is not enough.” Marshall plucks my lids apart and inspects my pupils.

“Three will kill her.” Barron holds the needle in front of him as though it were a gun.

“That’s always the point.” Marshall takes the needle and lovingly rubs his hand along the back of my thigh. I can feel a jolt of his special brand of electricity warm me with his love. “Two more, please” he says, pushing in the needle with a forceful jab. “
Now
.”

Dr. Oliver glares at Marshall a moment before disappearing. I’ve never seen him so angry, so distressed. It distracts me from the shooting pain wrapping itself around my spine like tendrils reaching up from the newfound puncture.

This new reality frightens me. Ingram wants me dead for something Ezrina did. Logan is as
good
as dead stuck in the Transfer playing honeymoon suite to a couple who my mother banished apart. They’re being incriminated for the same thing Logan and I are guilty of—administering a little vigilante justice to the Counts.

There’s no doubt in my mind my mother will punish Logan and I once the war is over for helping Nev and his twisted bride. I can feel it in my bones. Candace Messenger is like a bullet riding on the back of a comet, lethal in every capacity. Nothing compares to her wrath. I’ll wish the Counts had sucked me dry once she gets a hold of me—I’ll wish that Marshall had annihilated me with a thousand poisoned needles. At the end of the day, it will be my mother who crushes my skull with her heel. Chloe has nothing on her.

I let out a weak groan as a viral surge of pain covers my flesh. I’ve donned a coat soaked in kerosene, and Marshall scoured me with a blowtorch. A white-hot fire sears over me, wagering its assault along my raw exposed nerves.

Dr. Oliver appears with two more needles.

I struggle to open my mouth and beg for mercy, but the agony is too wild—too constricting in every way.

A fresh jab—a hard push of toxins burns my thigh, then another.

“Move.” Marshall barks at Gage. He scoops me into his arms and reclines with me on the bed.

My entire being gasps with relief. I dig my fingernails into his flesh. There is no way in hell I’m letting go. He warms me with his magical sensations, takes the pain down to less than nothing. I can breathe again. It’s so good like this with Marshall.

He presses his lips over the top of my head.

“I’ll be here, Skyla. I won’t let go.”

“You said it would kill her if you touched her,” Gage says, intolerant of the fact Marshall has taken his place in so many ways. “She needs to fight the poison, and she can’t do that with you wrapped around her.” Gage surges out the words like hacking through a forest.

Forgive me. I must leave.
Marshall closes his eyes briefly before handing me back to Gage.

“No.” I writhe toward Marshall.

Gage pulls me into his lap, and a hot poker spears from my abdomen to my temple.

Marshall and Barron exit, shutting the door behind them with a gentle click and I let out a horrific groan. 

“I can make things better,” Gage whispers it out in huffs.

“You’ve already made things worse!” My stomach clenches in pain.

“Look at me, Skyla. Focus on my eyes.”

I glance up at him and immediately fall into those sweet watery pools. This is probably just some lame attempt to lure me back into his trap by way of ocular hypnosis—sadly, it’s working on a rudimentary level. 

“You don’t love me.” I hiss as a mean shiver runs through me. “You would have let me die happy in his arms if you cared anything about me. You would never want this pain for me.”

“I do love you. That’s exactly why I want you alive.”

There’s a venomous look in his eye, a general contempt for the purveyor of this intense misery.

“This pain is
killing
me,” I shriek. “Marshall.” His name comes out less than a whimper. “Please, bring him back. I beg of you.” My muscles twist in knots. My stomach claps together like an accordion full of bile. I gag and claw at his shirt as the life slowly chokes out of me.

“Skyla.” Gage presses his lips just above my ear. “Your skin is picking up color—your lips are pink. You’re almost there.”

I struggle in his arms for what feels like an eternity. This is a terror, an unrivaled pain that compares to nothing I’ve ever felt before. I would give anything to have a blade within reach, so I could slit my own throat—his throat, too, for removing Marshall from the scene.

Gage presses his lips over mine, drowns my sorrow with a spasm of his affection. All of this aching misery is extinguished with the hot pool of his mouth.

You can do this, Skyla. I need you. I need you to live for me—for us. Don’t die. Just breathe—breathe.

***

I wake up refreshed with lids wide open and find myself alone, back in my own bedroom. A slight surge of adrenaline pushes through my veins and oddly, I feel more alive than I have in my entire seventeen years.

My room is still, quiet, with the day yet to rouse itself outside my window. A sheet lies over me and I can feel its coolness against every inch of my skin. I peer beneath it to confirm my clothing-deficient status.

Very not funny, Gage Oliver—at least he’s consistent. He pulled the same crap a few months back when I passed out in his truck. It’s like he has some weird fetish to strip girls naked once they’re unconscious. Not that I know this as fact. The thought of Gage disrobing Chloe nauseates me, so I roll over and pick up my alarm—seven a.m.

I pull back the curtain and peer outside just in time to see the world flicker like a candle. It reaffirms the fact a storm has settled over the island. This is penance for all that nice weather Demetri furnished us with.

A raging sea of deep russet clouds moves swiftly overhead. I pull on my robe and open the window to take in the damp honeyed air of a fresh new day.

A dark winged creature descends quickly toward the ledge. His feathered plumes give off a purple hue in contrast to the strange-colored sky.

Nev squeezes in and shakes his wings out with a shiver that spans head to foot.

I plop on the bed next to him and massage him with my fingertips.

“What’s the matter? Honeymoon over?” It doesn’t feel quite right razzing a bird over his latest sexual adventures.

The honeymoon is very much not over. Might you forget I’ve a duty to attend here, but while I can manage it, I’m prone to a little afternoon tryst.