Tremble (14 page)

This is going to end badly.

I can feel it in my bones.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chloe with the Blue Dress

I spend the better half of the night soaking my new fingers in acetate trying to get the acrylics off. I manage to get them whittled down part way until it looks like a rat’s been gnawing on the tips of my fingers.

As soon as I hit the sheets, I force myself to get to Chloe quick as I can. I can’t wait to tel her my plan.

My eyes flutter open, and I’m on her bed, only she’s not naked under the sheets, and I sit up quickly half expecting Logan to come out of the bathroom or something.

Two formal dresses hang like ghosts up over the door, a pale blue strapless and one the color of butter.

“You’re here!” She bal s her fists and gives a mock cheer. “Tomorrow night’s homecoming.” She picks up both my hands and bows into me.

“In which I shal be queen.” She mock curtseys, barely able to contain her excitement.

“You can’t know that.” She is going to be queen, but I’m not going to spoil it for her.

“Gage told me.” She rushes to the vanity and examines her complexion.

Homecoming. That’s the night Chloe disappears. My skin prickles. This is her last night on earth. The last time she’l ever lay her head on the pil ow, see the room in this light.

“Which one?” She takes down both dresses and airs them out on either side of her.

“I don’t know.” I can’t match her enthusiasm. “The yel ow is nice, but I think I like the…” before I can finish, she rattles the pale dress in the air.

“I thought so, too. Yel ow’s too formal—blue dress rocks.” She discards the yel ow dress into a heap on the floor and places the light blue one around her neck by the hanger. “You think it’l be me and Logan?” She sways holding out her dress like a little girl pretending to be a princess.

“No clue. I haven’t heard much about homecoming.” True—only the grim details that take place after. “Um, I can’t figure out how to save my dad.” Suddenly, I feel guilty even being here.

She stops cold from digging into her makeup bag. In one swift movement she throws down the glossy pouch and plucks the dress off her neck.

“Skyla.” Her long thin arm col apses over me.

I can’t help but note her fresh polished nails. It’s real y screwing with my head that there are three of Chloe’s arms in this room.

“Your dad, he died in a fire.” She picks up my chin gently. “I’ve never heard of any way to retract that.”

“But you didn’t.” My affect brightens. “Chloe,” I pul her to the bed, and we sit down. “Don’t get upset. I had this crazy accident,” I pause trying to figure out how exactly my brain managed to classify this as an accident. “A run in with Ezrina.”

“Ezrina?” She purrs when she says her name. If I had time, I’d analyze that satisfied smile layered beneath her concern.

“Yes. She hacked my arm off.” I hold it out as though it proves a point.

“You look fine.” Her eyes sweep me up and down like she’s fearing for my sanity.

“I am fine—thanks to you.” I hold out my new arm as though I were bearing a gift. “This is your arm, Chloe. Dr. Oliver reconnected it, and, in a few short hours, I was able to move my fingers. I could pitch a basebal game if I wanted.”

Her features darken.

Shit. The last thing I wanted to do was depress the hel out her, and on this, her last night breathing.

“Chloe.” I grab a hold of her by the shoulders, but she shrugs me off. “I can do this for you. I can bring you back, with my blood.”

Her entire person relaxes. She stares off towards the closet as though she were seeing a series of tragic events unfold.

“I’l be missing an arm.”

“I’l give it back to you.” I’m incensed she isn’t jumping at the offer.

“What if my brain malfunctions?”

“It won’t.”

She slits her eyes in my direction and gives the slightest wicked grin.

“Then do it.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Crazy for You

The dark sky lays over Paragon like an ashen wool blanket. The air is condensed so thick, you can’t move a foot without drenching yourself in dew.

Dr. Booth, the psychiatrist Tad and my mom forced upon me, has been on vacation, so my sessions were preempted accordingly. Mom leads me up to his office by the hand like I’m seven, but I let her. I think back to my dad and wonder if I ever shrugged him off—probably. If it’s one thing his death has taught me it is to appreciate the flesh and blood in front of you. You never know when it wil disappear.

Dr. Booth sits with his hands stretched behind his neck, feet up on the desk. I don’t real y mind seeing him since he confided he was a Levatio. This whole session thing is just a sham to please my parents more than anything else. At least, I think it is.

“So let me get this straight—you have a Sector leeching onto you, you’ve unearthed a dead body and harvested it for parts,” he nods towards my arm. “You’ve decided you’re not real y leading on Gage because he too is your real boyfriend, and your best friend and some stoner from math class are both Counts.”

“Right,” I can’t tel whether or not he’s being sarcastic. “I didn’t actual y partake in the unearthing of the body, and I offered to bring her back to life.” I’m quick to point out.

“Hmm.” His feet return to the floor, and he begins to straighten a pile of papers in front of him. “I have to tel you that last one blows me away.

Do you know the ramifications of this? Once the Counts get a hold of this information…” he pauses plucking off his glasses. The look of concern melts off his face. “Skyla,” he whispers, never wavering his gaze from the wal in front of him. “Rest assured, they are monitoring you, and when they need you most, you’l be gone.”

“Gone?” I don’t like gone.

“Captive.” He animates again clearing a space on his desk as he says it.

“When do you think they’l need me most?” I swal ow hard.

“No tel ing. Maybe when one of their leaders gets greedy and demands a supernatural infusion. It’s limitless what your blood can do. Once you reanimate Chloe, wel , you’l both be in danger.”

I never thought of it that way. What if she’s happy sitting on clouds and strumming on a harp? What if dead Chloe hates the fact I’m bringing her back, only to put her at risk of getting captured again?

“I have to do it. I’ve already promised.” I say it to satisfy myself mostly.

“Then do it.” He flicks his pen across the desk. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“You’re the type of person who knows how to appreciate today. You don’t lose sight of the preciousness of life. So al this other stuff that’s cluttering up your existence is secondary. Enjoy your life, Skyla.” He relaxes into an easy smile. “While you have it.”

***

Thursday after school Gage drives us over to the morgue. Dr. Oliver walks us into the kitchen and waits for the door to close before connecting his fingers at the tips and letting out a diminished sigh.

“I think this could work. A person of your size and stature, and Chloe was,” he pauses, “has about ten to twelve units of blood. I can safely take about one unit every few months.”

“She needs ten?” I ask.

“At least,” Dr. Oliver squints into his thought. He has Gage’s exact same cobalt eyes. “And it wil be years before we’l have enough to begin.”

“Years?” I lean into Gage for support.

“We could try to speed up the process,” he continues. “I could narrow the donation window to once a month, and if you feel too weak we’l expand the wait.”

“Yes, please, let’s do that.”

“Perfect.” He claps his hands together before reaching into a cabinet and pul ing out a cerulean blue glass bottle. “I’ve already begun the unembalming process on Miss Bishop. I think we should introduce the tissue to something less toxic—saline wil do. She’l be fine as long as she’s stored at the proper temperature, no further decomposition.” He motions to the metal bed behind him.

A plastic sheet lies over a smal vertical lump in the stainless bathtub. It must be her. Reflexively, my hand comes up and covers my mouth.

Chloe. I want know what she looks like, see her in real time.

Gage steps in behind me and grips my shoulders. His erratic breathing heats up the back of my neck.

“We don’t have to look,” I say.

“No, by al means look.” Dr. Oliver speeds over total y missing the point and swipes the sheet off in one aggressive swoop.

I turn and bury my face in Gage’s chest.

“She looks good. What’s wrong with her eye?” The words rumble out of Gage.

“Lost the eye, otherwise everything else is intact. I’l open the Y incision tomorrow and inspect the organs. I’m assuming they’re fine.”

I turn just enough to see her outline. Turning in ful , I take her in. Chloe—she lies there like a sleeping dol , al decked out in the pale yel ow dress she showed off for me last night. I guess her mother chose this for the burial because they took her in the blue one.

Her right eyelid is sunk, but the rest of her looks like the Chloe I know. I catch a glimpse of her bloodied stump and bury my face in Gage’s chest once again. I can hear the rustle of the sheet sliding over her, feel the soft gust of wind hit my back, and I try not to breathe.

“We can draw the first unit of blood right now if you like.” Dr. Oliver plucks a pair of gloves from out of a box.

I walk over to the blue glass bottle and hold it in my hands.

“How wil you keep it safe?” I ask.

“I’m taking it home with me. I have a refrigerated storage unit in an unsuspecting location.”

“In the basement?” Gage asks.

“No.” Dr. Oliver takes in a deep breath. “On the top shelf of the refrigerator.”

Its evident Chloe and I are in capable hands.

Worse case scenario, Logan or Gage go for a midnight snack and accidental y wash down a plate of cookies with a pint of my blood.

But that’s not going to happen.

Nothing is going to go wrong.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Wicked

I’m disrupted in my sleep by the glow. My lids flutter open and I find Marshal sitting way too close to me on the bed, trapping himself between my legs and the wal .

“Turn down the volume.” I sit up and shield my eyes.

The light dims, and I can easily make out his features.

“What’s with the hand?” He asks.

“As if you didn’t already know.” The room spins slightly. I’m so dizzy with fatigue I just go with it.

“I know the arm once belonged to Chloe Bishop.”

“Yes, it did.” I lie back down on the pil ow and turn over. “I’m going to reanimate her with my blood.” I prop myself back on my elbows and stare him down. “But you know that too don’t you?”

“Why?” He doesn’t deny not knowing, just not understanding the reason behind it.

“I’ve decided to take it upon myself to revive the Celestra population.”

“And the Counts?”

“They can kiss off.”

“You like to live dangerously, I see.”

“Are you waiting for Dr. Oliver to drain my blood slowly for you? Because if you are, just take me now. I’m tired of al this crap.”

“Hey.” He pul s up besides me and caresses the side of my cheek with his forefinger. “Someone’s been sleeping on the wrong side of the bed. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. It’s sort of a big deal for me to swear, do you understand?”

“What do you swear by?” Probably his useless self.

“By al that is holy.” He pushes in his chin. “Satisfied? I can do something else for you if you like.”

“Place a guardian to watch over me. The wicked witch of the east hacked my bloody arm off.” I say a little too loud while spreading my fingers in front of his face.

“Let me spend more time with you.” He touches my Chloe arm. It feels so good, like some stringed instrument is playing the most beautiful music, and I can understand it on a subconscious level from the vibrations alone.

“Don’t stop,” I say.

“Gage loves you.”

My eyelids fly open.

“Where’d that come from?”

“It’s true.” He removes his hand and scoots back.

“And Michel e loves you. It’s true.” I’m disturbed by the idea, and he should be, too.

“You see the present I gave her?”

“The demonic rose? How could I miss it?”

“It’s because of you.” He says, stern. “She seethes with hatred towards you. I’ve never heard such a maelstrom of viciousness. The plans she has for you my love…” He looks darn right pissed for me.

“And the necklace makes her my friend?” It makes sense on a rudimentary level and mildly explains the bizarre interaction I had with her on the field.

“No. It’s a portal—a training window for Fems. Let’s just say Michel e wil undergo a rather violent string of nightmares or ‘night terrors’ as the lay ignorantly refer to them.”

“Training ground for Fems?”

“They tend to get rusty.” He muses with a wicked gleam in his eye.

I reach over on the floor and pluck the knife out of my purse. I hold it out, so I don’t have to look at it.

“I meant to give this to you in class.”

“You naughty little thief.” It sounds highly sexual the way he says it and suddenly I want him off my bed. “This, my love,” he wags the knife in the air, “is why I let her chop your arm off.” His features sharpen to just this side of anger. “I hope you learned your lesson. Never cross me again.”

He evaporates until just the whites of his eyes remain.

He watches me al night long.

***

It’s freezing out—hard driving rain—smoldering soot-covered clouds wring out their wrath. The sidewalk bubbles fast and furious. It boils under the weight of the downpour. Paragon has turned into a cauldron, and at this rate we’re al going to drown.

I need to see you tonight.

Logan’s been texting al day. I wait until Gage is talking to someone else, riffles through his backpack, is in the bathroom, before I text him back in snippets.

Can’t wait. ~S

I’ve never seen Logan so thirsty for me. It’s nice to know he’s losing his mind a little. A part of me wants to strangle him for the peculiar break in our relationship.

Almost the entire student population sits under the tunnel-like awning that divides the two main buildings. I’m perched on the cold metal rail next to Briel e who, for whatever reason, is pissed off at Drake, something about speaking to Lexy Bakova during third.