Vex (19 page)

“You’ll see her in just a little while, Skyla.”

“Why does this sound ominous?”

“She has a seat on the justice alliance.”

“Crap,” I whimper.

“Oh, yes,” he gives a lethal nod. “I warned you to stay away from the pretty Oliver.”

“Will you be there with me?”

His hand slides down my back and rests at the base. It warms me and makes me feel secure—yet another thing I have to feel ashamed of.

“Logan will be with you. Isn’t he enough?” Marshall enjoys all of the treachery of the moment.

“I never want to be with him.” I try and stave off thoughts of the light drive we have planned to see my father.

Marshall pats the back of my thigh. “If I were you, I’d seriously reconsider traveling with him in any dimension.” There’s a satisfied gleam in his eye. There’s not enough white noise in the world to keep Marshall out of my thoughts. “Think twice before he lures you anywhere.”

“What do you mean lure?” I hardly think he would harm me with my father present.

“I mean, there will come a time when he will lure you somewhere and you may not be able to get back.”

It will probably be an accident.

“Or not.”

Chapter Thirty   

The Big Chill

After breakfast I ditch the noisy cafeteria and steal a moment alone out on the overlook.

The crisp mountain air leaves me dizzy as I gaze out at the beauty of the snow-covered peaks. The harsh lines of rock appear and disappear with a scant number of trees ebbing their way beyond the timberline. I wonder what the world would feel like up there on the barren landscape that lies just beneath a bevy of fat clouds. I wonder if I would feel safe, far from Marshall and his war, away from Logan and the danger he brings with him like a knife sharpened blade.

A swirl of dark feathers spirals up above, and I flag down Nevermore until he lands on the railing of the balcony.

“Hello, sweet friend,” my words drip with sadness. I’ve been having a serious transference issue regarding him and Logan—me and Ezrina ever since he told me all about his unhappily ever after.

Why so morose?
He asks, picking up on my demeanor.

“Just everything,” I don’t really feel like going into the fact I couldn’t take a shower because I didn’t dare wash off Emily’s hieroglyphics so soon or the fact I want to push Chloe off the nearest cliff but can’t. “Hey,” an idea comes to me, “how about I arrange a meeting between you and Ezrina?” I jump on my toes with excitement.

It’s strictly forbidden
.

“Well, what if it were an accident? What if I needed you and you just happened to bump into her?” God—how would I feel if Logan saw me after I was completely deformed by the Counts? I’d be devastated, although if he could get over my misshapen face and, of course, if I could get over the fact he was a bird, I think we’d still have those strong feelings for one another.

What the hell am I saying? And with Logan?

A pair of arms wrap themselves around me tight. Gage pulls a kiss onto my lips from behind. He rests his chin on my head and sags into me.

Nevermore darts into the branches of a nearby tree. Probably trying to get away from my insanity.

“I love you,” I breathe out the words as I clasp onto the back of his neck. Every day should start with me saying I love you to Gage.

A thick sadness emanates off him. I try to read his thoughts, but he’s purposely blocking them like only he knows how. I wonder if it was growing up with Logan that helped him master the art—or his relationship with me? But either way, he’s impenetrable.

I turn around and gasp at his bright red eyes. He pulls a bleak smile.

“What happened?” God—maybe his dog died. My hand rises to my chest at the thought.

 He looks over at me solemn, bereft. “Heard you were hanging out with Dudley last night.”

Nat. Of course, she blabbed the whole thing as soon as she got back to the room, what else did I expect?

“He told me to meet him there at ten.” A flood of heat rises to my cheeks. “I’m sure Chloe made up all sorts of stupid details.” Shit. What if Nat told her about the corset?

“Chloe didn’t mention anything.” His lips press together as he examines me. “What happened?”

“We talked about the faction war.” Something in me lights up with fear.

“You have a good time?” You could drive a nail in the ground with his hard stare.

“No.” Why does it feel like we’re suddenly fighting? Like I need to defend myself to Gage of all people. “Marshall’s nothing to me. He’s an irritant like Chloe.”

He gives a slow, disbelieving blink.

“Why are you acting like this? You know he freaks me out.”

“Did he touch you?”

“No.” I doubt Gage is talking about Marshall brushing up against my hand. “Why are you asking me this? What’s going on?”

He produces his phone, presses into it before holding it out for me to see.

“You tell me.”

I take in a breath.

It’s a picture of me on Marshall’s bed. I’ve got my thumb on my lower lip in a seductive manner, and my thigh is turned up on the side. It looks as though I’m naked save for the loosely threaded corset.

“Oh, crap,” it comes out below a whisper.

“Yeah, I said the same thing.” His hardened eyes lock onto mine before he speeds off into the swarming sea of bodies.

***

I stay in the room all day long—forgo snow play, sledding, and promises of a snowball fight of apocalyptic proportions. Instead, I wallow in misery, too ashamed to face Gage. I study the pictures on my body that are already beginning to warp and fade. I don’t dare take a shower. Instead, I read the images over and over, try to memorize them as if they were the words to a tragically beautiful poem.

The vine is the constant. It wraps itself around my body, never breaking, always interwoven throughout all the drama of the circular rainbows—the shower of butterflies. Another vine, this one comprised of thorns, is intertwined around my neck, it tries to choke out the vine that spans my existence but a tiny branch grows up and sprouts two bright green shoots that hang over the crook of my ear. Then there’s the lion. He dots my skin at regular intervals, like the happy face of a sunflower, until you look closer, and it reveals itself to be a ferocious man-eater, instead.  I can only gather that the vine is Gage, the thorn is Chloe, but we survive and renew ourselves despite her constant pestering, and the lion I already know is Logan. So beautiful to admire from a safe distance, but get too close, and he’ll eat you for breakfast. I don’t need Marshall to decipher that much for me. It’s the rest I long to know, the outrageous landscapes—Ahava perhaps? The questionable dark stain that spans my entire torso which, under careful scrutiny, dissolves into a series of microscopic pictures. The last things that puzzle me are the set of three discs with multicolored stones set in the center.

I should have figured Marshall was up to no good when he offered to take these pictures. I had no idea there was a little bit of Mia in him. Although in her defense, she never did email both East and West High with that picture of me making out with him. It’s almost a mute point now because they all suspect far worse than that anyway.

The girls come back in the room, bursting with an unnecessary level of jubilation. It doesn’t quite mesh with all of the languishing I’ve been participating in since my unfortunate meeting with Gage this morning.

“What are you doing?” Brielle lands a large blue gift bag next to me. “This is from Dudley. He said you got first pick of the costume closet last night.” Her words take an upturn in volume, pointing out the obvious.

“A gift from your lover? Open, please.” Chloe bites down on her lower lip.

“Skyla’s a virgin.” Brielle unwraps a sucker from out of her pocket and sticks it in her mouth with vigor.

“She’s got you fooled,” Chloe says, dumping the contents of the bag and holding up the corset. “Love it.” She holds up a matching leather skirt and the choker with a miniature spirit sword. She fingers it a moment, squinting into it before securing it onto my neck. “Hardly looks deadly,” she gives a quick wink.

“Looks phallic,” Brielle leans in. Everything looks phallic to Brielle.

Emily comes up from behind, and frowns at it. “It does look like a tiny penis.”

“I bet it’s a life size rendition of Dudley’s.” Chloe sways on her heels holding back a laugh.

“I bet it’s a cast version of the real thing,” Nat comes in close to examine it. The ring she stole sits proudly on her middle finger. “Oh, wait, it just got smaller.”

Nat and Chloe breaks out into cackles.

The toilet flushes, and Michelle comes out of the bathroom looking haggard and worn.

“What’s so funny?” She flashes the twin ring on her forefinger.

“Skyla is filling us in on her night with Dudley.” Nat turns a shoulder up to her.

“Just the nasty bits,” Chloe laughs.

Michelle doesn’t even break a smile. She pins both Chloe and me with her discontent, brands us with her hatred, hot as an iron.

Then a strange idea rouses in the back of my mind and I can’t help but think—the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Chapter Thirty-One

Dressed to Kill

The Pine Pole Hall is decked out in romantic twinkle lights, and doused in a dark rainbow of red and blue illuminations giving it that crime scene effect that I’m sure Marshall is after. Thank God it’s warm in here. I almost froze to death on the walk over. It’s all Marshall’s fault that I’m seriously clothing deficient. Why I go along with everything he says is beyond me. If I were captured by the Counts I’d probably be warm and toasty while they siphon an eternal blood supply from me. Once I get the feeling back in my limbs, I’m going to have to seriously weigh my options.   

Chloe is the most enthused to be here. Figures, that she’s overeager to participate in yet another murder, this time apparently mine.  

We each sign in and are given a piece of paper we’re to share with no one. We spend our time introducing ourselves as our characters, but really, I’m waiting to see Gage walk through the door with those forlorn eyes. Swim in those sad pools of blue as I try to explain away why I’m quite possibly the worst girlfriend ever.

The entire student body is outfitted with period pieces from the late eighteen hundreds. My corset is dated even for this soiree and yet I’m the only girl here even remotely exposing her neck. Not to mention the gallon of ink Emily used to cover my flesh.

“You must be the whore,” Chloe leans in, slapping her white lace gloves against the palm of her hand. The bitch squad including their honorary member, Brielle, is all wearing pastel dresses with full bustles and turtlenecks, long sleeves. Nat and Kate look like nuns, clad in black down to their ankles. I swear it looks like Marshall swiped this stuff straight out of the haunted closet back at the Transfer.

“Lets see, the only one that looks even remotely normal is Skyla,” Nat rolls her eyes. “And, she happens to be sleeping with the idiot who put on this show. Is it any coincidence that I look like crap, on New Year’s Eve?” She adjusts her ring then quickly hides it beneath her bell shaped sleeve once Marshall appears in the vicinity.

“I think you’re right,” Brielle pins me with an accusatory look. She waves down Drake who’s dressed like a waiter.

“What are you supposed to be?” She shouts over at him. The hum of the crowd sounds like an entire city of people evacuated the 1890’s and landed in this mountainous community.  

“I’m the butler,” he fans his handkerchief. “I’m really good at doing it.”

Half of us groan.

“What? The butler always does it.” He holds out his hands as Brielle drags him off.

Then I see him.

Gage looks resplendent in an inky dark suit. He pauses just shy of the entry, panning the crowd with a stony expression. Logan comes up behind him dressed almost identical, and now that I realize it, most all of the guys look the same.

Pierce comes over and squeezes Nat from behind eliciting a harsh squeal. He drives her next to me, baring his fangs over his lips.

“I hear it’s a good night to die.” He gives a hard stare.

“Go right ahead and do it,” I shoot back.

“I’m going to do it alright. I got the role of facilitator.” He gives a short-lived smile. “I have a court date with your name on it set for the nineteenth. I need the charges dropped by then, or all hell is gonna break loose on your ass.”

“Are you threatening me?” Something in me boils at the thought of Pierce telling me what to do and when to do it. My feet twist in the other direction but I don’t. Instead, I grab him by the lapel of his jacket and push him into the corner shaking Nat from his person in the process.

“I gave your stupid brother a body after he attacked me that night at the Falls. I let you suck pints of my blood for your twisted pleasure without skinning you alive. You should be eternally grateful for all of the bullshit I put up with.”

“I’m not doing time because you can’t stop yourself from snapping people in half whenever your brain goes haywire. I didn’t trash those kids and I didn’t touch Nat that day. You and I both know it.”

“You indulged on my neck and left me to die in the cemetery.”

“I’m the damn one who called the police. I told them where to find you,” the thick cords on either side of his neck distend.

I take in a quick breath at the revelation.

Holden appears with his shit-eating grin, folds his hands together as though he were about to play the role of peacemaker.

“I want Chloe away from Gage,” I say. “Help me and I’ll help you.”

“You said you’d take me to see my sister,” Holden snipes. “Make it happen. She might have some useful information that will make Chloe disappear like a bad rash.”

“I’ll take you.” I don’t even hesitate.

“You’ll have to drop the charges first,” Pierce interjects, slapping the back of his hand against Holden’s chest, advertising the fact he’s in control.

“I don’t have to drop anything until Chloe is under my thumb.” And with that I walk away.

The lights flick on and off and Ms. Richards steps up to the microphone. It lets off an annoying bleat before she twists the base. “Everyone has been informed of their roles. Be kind, be courteous, and let the games begin!” Her voice echoes off the walls, and it’s in that moment I catch a glint of a more refined version of what Ezrina might have looked like. She was beautiful once, to someone, and that someone just so happens to be Nevermore. I can’t wait to bring them together again.