Vex (27 page)

“I gotta go,” I whisper, turning in Brielle’s direction.

Marshall pulls me back by the shoulder.

“My former glory should reconstitute within hours,” he whispers. “I have retribution to tend to regarding paraphernalia that was stolen from me as well as a certain matter to do with the three inch gash in my side. That’s right, Skyla. I haven’t forgotten,” he gives me a gentle shove in Brielle’s direction.

Perfect. Can’t wait to see what body part he’ll snap off in payment for the spirit sword incident. Suddenly, I’m not so hot on protecting Logan of all people, but really, I thought I was protecting Gage.

I let out a heavy sigh as I scoot in next to Bree.

“Wow, you and Dudley look pretty serious.” She bites down on the salacious grin ready to explode all over her face. “I’m totally OK with it, though. I don’t want you to think there’s weirdness between us just because we slept with the same guy.”

I just sit there with my jaw on the floor. She knows darn well I’m into Gage—that I’m supposedly
with
Gage. Why the sudden memory default? Unless, of course, she thinks I’m with both Gage and Marshall, which in her world would totally make sense.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t done it yet.” I lean in secretively. “With either of them.”

“Oh,” she draws the word out as though it were a huge oversight on her part. “Dudley’s perfect. He’d be a great teacher,” she squints into an unexpected laugh. “Get it?
Teacher
?”

“Yeah, real funny.” I look over at him and he arches a brow as though he’s heard the whole thing.

“I don’t know about Gage though,” she takes off her knit cap and shags out her hair. It’s wet in the back from perspiration, curling up in neat copper coils. “Chloe seems to like him. Says he really knows what he’s doing—shows up Logan by a landslide. Says he’s the size of a baseball bat.”

“What?” I squawk. “She has not been with Gage.” And if he is the size of a baseball bat maybe I should have peeked last night while I had the chance? What am I saying? Chloe wears lies like a crown.

God—where’s Gage? I pan the vicinity. Chloe so better not know.

“Relax.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Your time will come. Probably with both Gage and Dudley.” She doesn’t even bother to whisper that last part.

I look past her at Marshall. He’s totally enjoying this, I can tell.

“And when it does,” she licks her lips. “It’s going to be amazing.”

“Right,” I say, absentmindedly. The wind picks up and blows a harsh breeze— claws at my skin, sharp as razors.

“If you want, I can give you some pointers,” she begins to pluck at her gloves.

Marshall leans in. Sticks his tongue in his cheek as he awaits the laundry list of seduction.

“Maybe another time,” I say. Like never.

Drake creates a scene by waving his poles all over the place, taking out three skiers in the process.

“I’d better go before anyone else gets hurt.” She picks up her skis and heads on out. “I’ll make up a list of all the highlights, kay?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” On
paper
? Is she insane? With my luck, it’ll be published and circulated in the Daily Dawg as soon as we get back to school. I can see it now,
Skyla’s sex tips
. Just wait until Tad gets a hold of that. “We’ll talk later.” Emphasis on talk.

Marshall limps his way over and relaxes an arm behind me on the table.

“In need of lessons are we?”

“Nope.” I turn away, not giving him the satisfaction of a glance.

“Would you believe that you offer yourself to me in full?”

“Yeah, right.” Dear God, please no.

“Mmm,” he purrs into me. “It was the last blessed vision imparted on me prior to my celestial probation.” He ho-hums the words out as though they were banal. “I suppose that means you get your lesson after all.” A ruddy glow fills Marshall from the inside. “I’m starting to feel better already,” he shudders as though he were shaking off a chill. “I do believe, Skyla, a feast of your flesh might just be the answer to everything.”

“There’s another word for that vision, it’s called a fantasy.” Something deep inside me stirs, as though, I really know it’s not.

“What I find hard to believe is how near we are to the arrival of that magnanimous moment.” He grabs a ski pole, stakes it into the ground as though driving home his point. “Three weeks.” He blinks a smile. “Mark off the days on your calendar in hearts, make a paper-chain, whatever best aides in the countdown,” he gives the impression of a wicked grin. “You, my love, will be mine.”

And with that he hobbles away.   

Chapter Forty-Five

Baseball, America’s Favorite Pastime

“Has Chloe seen your baseball bat?”

Gage huffs a laugh as though he knows what I’m talking about and the temperature in this clown suit my mother bought to humiliate me goes up about forty-five degrees.

Gage stands out like a dark shadow up against the paper mountain.

Nevermore lingers on the ski lift like he were overseeing the apparatus himself, as though his steady undivided attention to the rise of each gondola was his newfound responsibility.

“I have a feeling this conversation has nothing to do with the game.”

“So, she’s seen it?” I gasp. I’m going to knee Gage, then sock Chloe.

“What baseball bat? The one in my room? She’s never been there.”

I breathe a sigh of relief at the thought of Chloe being denied access to Gage’s bedroom, among other things.

“Oh,” he muses. His eyes round out like perfect orbs. “A baseball bat, huh?” His dimples ignite. “Well, she’s right.” He shrugs as though there was no disputing this and I slap him on the shoulder.

“It’s not funny.” My eyes tear up unwarranted.

“Hey,” he pulls me in and pushes a kiss up over my ear, “I swear she’s never seen my baseball bat.”

“Well, she’s not above lying. And by the way, she said you were better than Logan by a landslide.”

“That, I might have to relay to him,” his chest rumbles with a dry laugh. “I can’t believe she said this to you. That really pisses me off.”

I badly want to correct him, but at the moment I prefer him pissed at Chloe. “What’s that in your hand?” I ask.

He holds up a bulbous metal helmet with a skull and cross bones sticker slapped on the side.

“My gift to you. Come on, I’ll take you up again.” He nods in the direction of the mountain of death.

“No thanks.” I carefully hid my skis beneath the table earlier where I plan on letting them rest in peace the remainder of the afternoon. “I was cheering for you up there—you know, just like back home. You’ve gotta be exhausted. You were the best one on the slopes.”

“I didn’t win. I didn’t even place,” he says. He’s so onto me, I can tell. “Come on. You’ve got to get back on that horse. If you don’t ski today, after this trip, you’ll probably never want to do it again.”

“That’s the plan.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” He presses the helmet into me. “Besides, I can’t sleep at night knowing that I was supposed to protect you and you floated off a cliff. Give me some well needed rest, let me get you down off this mountain safely, just once.” Gage plucks at my waist as though he were trying to tickle me, but my jacket is so loose he just plucks away at the fabric. “Are you in there?” He gives a sarcastic smile.

“Yes, and yes.” I take the helmet from him and inspect it. Gah! It’s ugly. I’m going to have the equivalent of a globe on my head while Chloe and the rest of the bitch squad all swish effortlessly down the mountain in cute little headbands. And, for sure, they didn’t take their mother’s shopping with them because they’re all wearing form-fitting outfits. There’s not one other plaid clown suit on the mountain, save for me. Maybe this was all a part of my mother’s plan to keep me chaste by making me look as unattractive as possible. Little did she know she’d have help in that department by Gage himself.

I put on the special protective headgear and pinch the clasp under my chin.

“Why do I have to look so goofy?”

“I prefer you alive and goofy, to dead and hot.”

I sigh as he helps me into my skis. At least he’s honest.

Marshall strides past me, sans his noticeable hobble.

I’m back, Messenger. Tip top condition, never felt better. You can push that idiot of yours off the ski lift to save me the trouble. It’s time for retribution, and as they say in your neck of the woods, payback makes a stray dog’s tail wag.

“Payback’s a bitch,” I whisper as Gage and I start making our way to the ski lift.

Have it your way
.

“Skyla,” Gage is clearly perplexed by my rather vague threat. “You hit your head harder than I thought.”

I did, but that’s not the point.

We fall in line at the ski lift behind Holden and Kate. In front of them are Pierce and Nat. Convenient arrangement. Kate is way too nice for a psycho like Holden. I should probably take her aside and warn her that he’s possessed, literally. I wonder if the real Ethan would like to have his body back? I wonder if that arrangement is possible?

Gage and I land soft on the lift as he lowers the useless bar in front of us. I scoot into him. He holds me as we escalate into the atmosphere, floating soft as a butterfly.

“Winter formal is in a couple of weeks,” he blows the words into my ear.

“How many?” I hadn’t given much thought to Marshall’s premonition until now.

“Like three, you wanna go?” He grazes over my earlobe soft with his teeth.

I’ll definitely be staying away from Marshall that night.

“With you?” I ask hopeful.

“Yes, with me.”

“What about Chloe?”

His chest rises in frustration. “I’m about ready to lock her in a closet.”

“You’d do that for me?” I bat my eyes up at him playfully.

“I swear, I’ll find a way to make her unavailable. I’m going to lose my mind if I have to be tied to the hip with her another minute. Besides, she can’t stop me from dancing with you.” Gage glows as the paper white fog envelops him.

“I’d love to dance with you—every single song.” I danced with Gage once at homecoming. 

“I plan on slow dancing with you regardless of the music,” he tugs on my earlobe with his teeth, and my stomach bottoms out.

“You think Dudley would get rid of her?” He asks.

I take in a breath. I wonder if that plays into Marshall’s vision? My body in exchange for Chloe’s demise. That would make me a prostitute
and
a killer. There’s no real reason for me to off her at this point I mean technically, I’ve offed her once in exchange for killing my father.

“Maybe he can relocate her to China?” I straighten, causing the chair to swing.

“Or East.” His brows rise into the brilliant epiphany.

Good God, I really am going to sleep with Marshall.          

“What’s the matter? You look like you’re in pain,” he squints into me, examining my eyes.

“Nothing,” I sink back into him.

Up ahead, Nat and Pierce attempt to get off the lift and stumble. Nat’s ski flicks off skyward, causing the two of them to land in a heap. The chair keeps moving—and Holden and Kate topple over them effortlessly. It would have been funny if it weren’t for the fact that we were next in line.

“Where are the idiots running this thing?” Gage lifts the bar in front of us.

Kate’s arm is still hooked onto the chair, but her skis have tangled up with the bodies below.

Our chair nears the dismount area ready to deposit us onto the growing pile of humanity.

I have a feeling this is going to hurt like hell.

It would have been reasonable for someone to stop the lift, but it just so happens that the operator lies slumped over in the tiny wood cubicle. I know this because it’s the last thing I see before the lift speeds up.

“Skyla!” Gage grabs me by the waist. He flicks off his skis and starts kicking at mine.

I harness all of my Celestra strength by way of anger and try to free myself from my skis with a few hard swings. Kate stands just as I propel my power punch, and I launch her helmet out a good fifteen feet as I kick off my ski.

Only Kate’s not wearing a helmet.

She’s not wearing a head anymore either.

Oh, Fuck.

Chapter Forty-Six  

Stick the Dismount

Gage grabs me by the waist, and we land hard on an icy surface.

I open my eyes with caution expecting to see Pierce bearing his fangs at me or Nat giving me the finger, but I see Gage’s perfect face, instead. I lean over and kiss him. I don’t need the details on how he used his super strength or super speed or teleportation powers, or all three in combination to land us clear on the other side of the ski lift a good ten feet away from the growing pile of bodies.

A horrible series of screams emit—bloodcurdling, wild, guttural primal screams cut through the arctic air—for a moment I had forgot all about the grizzly scene.

Gage runs towards the booth to shut down the lift.

Nat howls at the top of her lungs in the direction of Kate’s partially buried head. A long trail of crimson liquid runs from the decapitated body to her beautiful blonde hair. Instinctively I take my jacket off, go over and cover up her severed body.

Pierce vomits a steady brown river next to Nat in the snow.

It all feels surreal, the day has been swallowed in a nightmare, and a life has been evicted from this planet all because of me.

Holden gives the slight curve of a smile in my direction as though he approves of the carnage.

“It was an accident,” I try to shout but it comes out a hoarse whisper.

“You did this!” Nat screams. “Your stupid freaking ski killed my best friend!” She howls the words through tears.

Ms. Richards runs up to the scene, sweating and winded, closely followed by Marshall who looks alarmingly well rested and nonplused by the situation.

“It seems we’ve had a decapitation,” he announces to the people still immobilized on the lift.

“Marshall!” I snipe.

He takes off his jacket and swings it around my shoulders. It holds his warmth—his energy flows through me, buzzing with his ever-present calm.