Tremble (20 page)

I take in a ragged breath. What am I suppose to do? I feel stupid just sitting here. My gaze fal s on the poem I wrote for Gage, the one I thought for sure I’d be reading to him by now. Maybe I should write El is a poem too? I could write one for each person whose life I smashed to pieces—poetry noir.

My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Briel e.

You hear about what happened last night?

Oh shit. I have no clue what she’s talking about and to tel the truth I’m too chicken to ask.

Is it Logan? ~S

Nope. Michelle jumped off Devils’ Peak.

I shake my head and mumble the word no over and over. I can’t handle this anymore. I need to put a stop to this madness. It’s like I’m spraying bad luck al over the place.

Is she dead? Of course she’s dead. Who survives a drop like that? It’s got to be hundreds of feet.

She’s in ICU.

I take in a deep breath. OK, she made it. Al I have to do is give her some blood or something—I can fix this.

Who am I kidding? I can’t fix anything. In fact, I tend to make things worse.

I text Logan. How R U? ~S

Stiff, but OK. Where’s Ellis?

He knows. Someway, somehow he found out.

Home? ~S

Sheriff’s out searching. He left his truck at school. He’s not home. You know something.

Why would I know something? ~S

Because you tend to lose people.

Is this real y the time and place for humor? Then it hits me—it’s a plain fact. There’s not one thing funny about it.

He’s with Gage. ~S I hate it when he’s right.

I hop off the bed, not waiting for a response. I’m going back to fix this right now—al by myself.

***

It occurs to me when the ground beneath me trembles and the Fem is wrapped around my arm, that Marshal might be someone good to have by my side at times like these. I mean, so what if it costs me my life, soul, being, whatever? How bad would it real y be creating a super race with Marshal ? Any time I feel like having a nervous breakdown over Logan or Gage, I’l simply reflect on moments like this, and understand that I’d rather not turn into Fem vomit and...

I let out a bloodcurdling cry and don’t stop until my lungs beg to explode.

The beast comes in with its eerie grimace, strange humanlike features masked under a panther’s jet-black fur, creepy glowing eyes, and long catlike limbs.

“Skyla!” A male voice booms racing up the stairs.

The door opens in haste and refracts off the wal .

“Daddy!” I scream. Daddy was usual y something I reserved for the tender moments of yesteryear, not the monster’s-going-to-twist-my-head-off-and-toss-it-out-the-window moments of today.

He’s armed with a basebal bat, same one I wielded at myself not too long ago. He gets in a violent series of blows to the back and side of the Fem’s head until a mess of green slime starts to gunk up the bat, and the Fem fal s flat to the ground.

“Let’s go.” He helps me leap over its listless body. It reaches up and snatches my ankle before I can traverse it.

I scream, maneuvering towards the door as my father beats the living shit out of the writhing creature.

The grip around my ankle loosens, and we manage to reach the stairs. He leads me outside to the front of the house, opens the passenger door to his car, and instructs me to get inside.

“How’d you find the keys?” I ask as he lands in the driver’s seat and locks the doors.

“I don’t know where they are.” A bewildered look crosses his face. “It was unlocked.”

Right.

I’m in a car on this very day with my dad. I tick my head nervously.

“I guess you want some sort of explanation of what’s going on.” He looks straight ahead at the garage as though he were disappointed in himself for not doing it sooner.

“That we belong to a faction of angels cal ed Celestra?” I ask. “That we have the amazing capability of pissing off a crooked group of angels cal ed the Counts? That the Fem upstairs is nothing but a bal of air, which by the way I do not believe,” I say ful of frustration. “Yeah, please tel me because I’m dying to know.”

I can’t believe I’m yel ing at my dad, who, by the way, I’ve never even slightly freaked out on with the exception of today of al days, his death date.

“You know al this.” He folds his hands into his lap and turns over to me thoughtful y. “I didn’t think it was right to tel you. I wanted you to have normal childhood for as long as possible.”

“I did.” I pick up his hand. “And it was a happy one.”

“Was?” He presses into the headrest. “It’s stil happening.”

“No it’s not.” It comes out feeble. “It’s not. You’re gone, Daddy, and I’m not doing so wel without you.”

“I’m not fol owing you.” His forehead creases. “I’l work less. Sweetie, everything I do, I do for you and your sister. Believe me, I’d much rather spend time with the two of you.” His eyes fil with moisture.

The world slides from beneath us, feels like it sways on its heels, and, for a second, I want to say yes, spend more time with us, but I know that’s not going to happen.

“I’m not the Skyla you know.” I start in careful y. His skin looks thicker in this harsh light of day, and I can see the slight pocking of his flesh around his cheeks. He looks hardened by the world, not like the softer version I keep tucked away in my memory. “I’m Skyla from the future.”

A loud popping noise explodes from somewhere deep in the car. Flames shoot out from under the hood and lick dagger like spears high up over the windshield.

In less than three seconds, the entire car is engulfed in flames.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Wake

My eyes flutter open. The room slightly spins as I struggle to get up on my elbows. A wave of nausea washes over me, then the details of what happened flood back like a storm.

Two years ago my father died in a fiery crash in the driveway of our home. A young woman was reported to have fled the scene. That young woman was me.

I head downstairs, bumping into wal s, stumbling over the carpet until I land on a barstool next to Drake.

“Skyla?” My mother zooms in on me so close she looks disfigured.

I give a series of hard blinks.

“I think maybe you should stay home from school today.” She slides over a glass of orange juice.

“School?” What the heck happened to Sunday?

“You need to rest. You had a pretty high fever when I checked last night.”

“You were delirious,” Drake says with a mouthful of cereal. Milk spurts out when he laughs.

“I’m fine.” The clock behind mom reads, seven-thirty. That’s less than five minutes before I need to shoot out the door. “Can I catch a ride with you guys?” I ask Drake.

He looks at me up and down with the spoon stuck in his mouth.

“I’m leaving in two minutes,” he mumbles.

“That’s al I need.”

Much to my mother’s protest I dress and pul my hair back in a ponytail. I snatch my makeup bag off the counter and toss it in my backpack.

“You’re going to relapse,” she insists.

That’s impossible, I want to tel her.

“I’m going to be fine. If I feel bad I’l go to the nurse. I’ve got this huge test coming up in Algebra Two—if I miss one class I’m completely behind. It’s like missing a month of regular math.”

“I get it.” She gives a slow blink in frustration, before snapping her fingers. “Oh, is that Mr. Dudley’s class?”

“Yes.”

“Let him know I should have the ad complete this afternoon. He can come over later if he wants to see the proofs.”

“OK.”

“You know what?” She tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Invite him for dinner.” She smiles shaking her head. “Don’t you just love living here?

It’s like everybody’s family. We actual y know our neighbors. And I can’t even imagine inviting one of your teachers back in L.A. over to the house, let alone for dinner. It’s just a different world here.”

“It’s different,” I muse. “I’l let him know about dinner.”

“You think he’l come?”

“I’m more than positive.” There’s no way he’l let this opportunity slide by.

I walk down the driveway towards Briel e’s Jeep with Drake motioning for me to hurry.

I hop in the back and stare out in a vacant manner as the scenery starts to whiz by. I can’t focus on anything right now other than Gage and El is.

“Can you believe al this weird stuff that’s been happening?” Briel e switches off the radio. “First Michel e, now El is missing?”

“Yeah, I know. How’s Michel e?” I ask.

“No clue.” She clasps her hands on the wheel and focuses in on the road.

Things are getting weird al right. And it’s al my fault.

***

I see Logan on my way to second.

“You look great.” The words sail from my lips without my permission. I pul him into the dark underbel y of the stairwel .

He pushes a quick kiss on my lips. I’m so shocked I hold my breath for three solid seconds. This is serious. Maybe he’s got a brain injury.

“I miss you.” His lips twitch. There’s an inherent sadness in his eyes, like he means it, but it’s layered a little deeper than I understand.

“I’m so sorry about Gage.” I can barely get the words out.

“Nobody blames you. I don’t want you to stay away from the house because you think my aunt and uncle are mad. If anything they blame Gage.”

“Gage?” Obviously they’re too nice to put the blame where it real y belongs.

Logan traces the outline of my lips with his finger. His eyes magnetize to mine and we let our gaze linger while the warning bel goes off.

“I’ve ruined everything.” Even my words aren’t powerful enough to break the spel of attraction. My breathing becomes erratic.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” He gives a bleak smile when he says it.

“Michel e’s in the hospital, Gage and El is are missing. Fems are spreading like a fungus, and we have to hide our relationship. I can’t think of one thing that’s working out right now.”

He kisses the back of my hand and pul s his cheek into a half smile.

“We are.”

***

“Ten minutes late, Miss Messenger,” Marshal says as I walk by on the way to my desk. “I was beginning to think your entire row was going to disappear.”

A series of gasps erupt.

“I apologize. That was in poor taste considering the dubious nature of Mr. Harrison’s disappearance.” Not that I’m crying myself to sleep at night, he adds for my benefit.

I don’t bother focusing on the lesson at hand. I gape at the open book in front of me and stare at the numbers in a daze. It’s hard to target my attention on equations with Gage and El is lost in some other time dimension. If they end up dying back there, what happens with the last two years?

Did they ever real y happen?

I total y get why Logan warned me not to time travel in the first place. I swear if I can somehow reverse this, I’l never time travel again, wel , probably never. I can’t promise myself anything. I’m so out of control, I can’t even control myself. How’s that for irony?

“Skyla,” Marshal sings over to me. Even his voice has the magical ability to soothe.

Most of the class is already gone. I col ect my things and walk over to his desk.

“My mom wants to know if you can come to dinner. Ad’s ready.” I don’t come at it with quite as much enthusiasm as my mother.

“Yes.” His eyes widen instantly as though he’s been hoping—praying for this.

“Don’t seem so eager. It’s not becoming,” I say as I head towards the door.

He walks over swiftly and leans over my shoulder.

“Remember those words when you beg me to have you.”

“I’l never do that.”

“I have the gift of knowing,” he reminds me. “You wil .”

Chapter Forty-Eight

Behave

Emily and Lexy are lost children. They huddle together as tears stream down their faces. They don’t get up and practice during cheer; instead, they speak in hushed tones when they bother to speak at al .

At the end of the hour, Ms. Richards announces that Michel e has been downgraded from critical condition. Miraculously, her pencil dive off Devil’s Peak has managed to result in a mere broken leg. A wild scrub oak broke her fal .

“Can you believe it?” Briel e whispers.

“Yeah,” Nat shakes out her kinky hair. “She’s ruined the line, ‘Go jump off Devil’s Peak’. Sort of lost its punch.”

“Either that or she’s an immortal.” Kate laughs when she says it, and I wonder if she knows that Nat and Briel e are both Counts or if she’s the only one not in on this celestial joke.

Ms. Richards claps her hands one more time.

“I think, in the spirit of unity, we should al visit Michel e tonight at seven. Please wear your uniforms, and if you so wish, bring flowers.”

“Seven? Mr. Dudley’s coming over tonight for dinner.”

“Ooh…” Nat shakes her shoulders. “He so damn hot.”

“He’s interesting,” I say, lackluster.

“Are you blind?” Kate’s a little miffed at my non-responsiveness.

“No, I just like my boyfriend better.” I sort of mean both of them. A hot bal of fire cycles through my stomach.

What’s happening to Gage? There’s no doubt in my mind once this horribly drawn out day is over, I’l have to go back. I have to get him. A smal voice in the back of my mind repeats what Logan once said. Anything’s possible if I believed—and I do believe I’l get Gage. I’m pretty sure El is wil get back either way. He’s sort of a cockroach that way. Plus, he doesn’t have a stash, and I’m pretty sure you can’t smoke a Fem.

There is one thing that seems impossible—saving my father. After I undo al the damage I’ve done, I won’t bother trying ever again.

***

Marshal shows a little too early—a little too eager. I can smel the desperation oozing off of him. He’s like an older version of Gage on love-struck acid. Although right about now, I’d do anything to have Gage pour his love al over me. I’m pretty sure I’d shock the hel out of him and pour it al right back a thousand times over.

“Isn’t she beautiful? She’s like a real live angel.” He holds up the proofs up to the light. “Amazing,” he says under his breath.

“Trust me Skyla’s no angel, but even I’m fooled by this picture.” She coos, lost in some zombie-like trance at the black and white print.