Wicked (22 page)

I don’t remember Christmas in L.A. being so impregnated into our world. Tad is making us wait until later this week to decorate. Mom had to talk him into bumping up the festivities from Christmas Eve. What’s the point of decorating twelve hours before the big event anyway? When my dad was alive, we started singing Christmas carols right after Halloween.

Mom pulls into the huge circular drive and takes off as soon as we file out of the car.

Melissa circles around back while Mia hangs around an extra second to vex me.

“So you gonna make out with your teacher again?” She stands almost eye to eye with me now, and somehow I find this irritating.

I take in a quick agitated breath before answering. “No, Mia. I’m with Gage. All making out takes place with him, nobody else. I swear.” I hold up two fingers like a girl scout.

She cocks her head to the side. “Does he know about the baby?”

“No,” I hiss like an irate cat. I’m not sure if she means Gage or Marshall.

“You’re going to have to tell eventually.” She shoves her purse under her shirt and wags her tongue out the side of her mouth.

“There’s nothing to tell. I’m not having a baby.” And if Gage keeps arresting me like a criminal before any real action happens, I never will.

“How’s the car coming?”

“I take the driver’s test Friday.” The first test I’m actually looking forward to. I think I’ll celebrate by taking Gage out after—ironic since technically it’s Logan’s car I’ll be taking him out in. I think about being with Gage in the backseat of my new car, and my stomach explodes with excitement. Then my ridiculous brain flops the situation, and I see Logan and I going at it like two wild beasts, me in a ball gown with the skirt hiked up around my waist, him lying naked on top of me. We fog up the windows and there’s a hand pressed against the glass just like in that one movie.

My fingers fly to my lips. Logan? A ball gown—really?

“I’ve got a date Saturday night,” Mia says snapping me back to reality.

“You can’t date, you’re like seven.”

“Thirteen and a half. I got my braces off last Tuesday, thanks for noticing. Oh, that’s right, you don’t notice anything unless it involves you.”

“Mia.” My mouth hangs open.

She takes off around the back.

***

After a series of hard knocks, I let myself into Marshall’s palatial estate and find him in the living room untangling Christmas lights straight out of the box.

“Can’t you do some Sector magic and have the best darn tree that ever was?” I say plugging in the lights he’s lassoed himself with.

Marshall glows beneath the pointed crystal bulbs.

“Pretty,” I say walking over and helping him out.

“Yes, you are.” He throws them in the air, and they land perfectly around the fifteen-foot pine standing erect in the middle of the room.

“I think you should put it in the corner.”

“As the woman of the house, I’ll gladly let you supervise.” He maneuvers it back a good three feet near the piano.

“Perfect,” I say. “So, my father gave me an interesting piece of news.” It feels like a million years ago that I saw my dad. I can’t believe Logan went back without me, something about that doesn’t sit well with me.

“Which is?”

“My real mom is a Caelestis. Her name is Candy. I’m sure you know all this,” I say plucking a box of apple red ornaments from out of a shopping bag.

“Candace,” he corrects, “and, yes, we’ve met.”

“God,” I pause in horror, “you’re not my father are you?”

“What kind of pervert do you think I am?” Even in his utter disgust Marshall is cuttingly attractive.

“Sick enough for it to be true on some level. How well do you know her?”

“She’s an acquaintance.”

“I’d like for her to be an acquaintance of mine. Can you arrange that?”

“I can arrange lots of things.” His finger twirls in the air. “Next time you come in, leave your poltergeist at the door. That spook of yours is running around the celestial sphere bragging about this body you’re supplying him with.” Marshall looks annoyed at the thought. “I could remedy this you know.”

“By giving him Chloe’s body?” I think it’s a stroke of genius.

“Getting to you already, is she?” He attaches a gold ball to the boughs of a lower branch.

“You don’t know the half of it. And Holden’s been his raucous self with the exception I thought he helped me win the faction war.” I tell him about my hallucination. “And now that rose has mysteriously ended up around Michelle’s neck again,” I say accusingly.

kquote Sounds like a Christmas miracle,” he gives an impish grin.

“Nice work. No details please.”

“What can I say—the Fems were restless.”

“What exactly is a Fem? I remember Logan tried to explain it to me once. He said they were nothing but balls of air.”

“Do they look like balls of air?” He motions me over to the tree, and I get to work.

“No.” Anything but.

“You’re a ball of air, I’m a ball of air, we’re all a ball of air, but we reside in temporal bodies, don’t we?” Marshall eyes me critically as though my answer were of some importance.

“Don’t tell me I’m going to be a ball of air in the afterlife.” First of all, balls of air seem to be exempt from all physical activity, which slightly downgrades Gage’s offer to love me for all eternity, at least the way I want.

“For a time, then you’ll be back in full working order, new body intact—this I promise.”

That vision of Logan and me steaming up the backseat of the Mustang spikes up uninvited, and I try to shake away the thought.

Marshall gives a Cheshire cat grin as though he knows what I’m thinking.

I suck in a lungful of air. “You do know!” Obviously I’ve dumbed down to a mere mortal after Pierce tried to suck the lifeblood out of me.

“Relax, it’s not quite as bad as it seems. You’ve piddled down to your boyfriend’s status. When your mind goes to mush I can see through it like a window. And the evening gown would have looked spectacular on you, had you not been horizontal.”

“OK, I gotta go.” I try to bolt for the door, but he snatches me back by the elbow.

“Come here, love,” he says it sweetly, “I’ll try to arrange a meeting with your mother. Consider it an early Christmas gift. She, however, has a mind of her own, and I make no promises.”

I remember the last time Marshall gave me a present, and I found out my entire family, including Logan, were Counts. Not sure he knows how the whole gift-giving thing is supposed to work.

“OK,” I’m almost afraid to accept.

“I’ll answer your question about Fems, but first I have to express my utter disdain with your recent actions concerning high powered weaponry and the pretty Oliver, whom, by the way, I suggest you steer clear of.”

I swallow hard.

“That’s right, Ms. Messenger. I’ve been apprised of your erratic and, might I add, violent behavior.” He points hard to the spirit sword hanging innocently above his fireplace. “You have authority to use it. Not that one, the one that lies in your possession. You do not have authority to blow people’s brains out for sport. You’ve upped the ante. You have no idea who these people are or how they operate. I implore you to cease and desist your murderous spree at once.”

“So if I killed them with the sword, we wouldn’t be having this conversation?”

“Perhaps not.” He looks at me sharply. “And to answer your question, Fems are a lower order of celestial beings,” he hesitates a moment, “they’ve sided with Countenance.”

“Sided with the Counts?” I examine him in earnest. “Sided against what?”

“They’re trying to incite a reversal of power. As it stands now, Sectors rule supreme.”

“Sectors rule and Fems drool?” I’m only half joking.

“Haven’t you learned to never slander a celestial being? Be wise, Skyla, that sword in your mouth wields more power than you know. And try not to have such lewd thoughts around me regarding the pretty one. It’s infuriating to see my wife engage in carnal relations with someone other than myself.”

I’m finding Marshall’s rapid-fire admonishing worrisome and amusing all at the same time.

“So you’re in a war with the Fems?” I ask, ignoring the rest of his babble.

“They’re posturing.” He places a bulb on the tree and wraps his arms around my waist, admiring his work.

A part of me knows I should push him away, then again, a part of me knows I might get more of Marshall’s truths if I don’t.

“So you’re about to have a battle with Fems? What kind of payment are they taking from the Counts to do their dirty work?” All I know is that Fems are shape shifters that torment innocent people like me at the Count’s bidding.

“The Counts have aligned with Fems. So when the battle commences, and they try to overthrow Sectors, they’ll have two planes of dominance as will the Counts.”

“I thought you trained Fems? Don’t you control them?”

“Does the word coup ring a bell? Has there never been a government overthrown on this planet before? It’s happened once before in the ethereal plane, the Fems taking down the Sectors, but over time we reverted back to power.”

“And now they think it’s their turn,” I nod, getting it for the first time. “What happens to the rest of us if the Fems and Counts take over?”

“Ever hear of the dark ages? The bubonic plague? Horrific oppression—disaster, that’s what happens. They rather enjoy winnowing the masses.”

“Why is that?” My eyes sweep over him horrified.

“The Counts are spared in such efforts, Skyla. In addition to my job demotion, they allow the Counts to proliferate their numbers. It’s win-win for wickedness.”

“Job demotion?” I mouth the words. It would almost be comical if he didn’t paint such a scary picture. “This is huge,” I whisper.

“I’m glad you realize the scope and magnitude of what lies before you.”

“Why didn’t you explain all this before?” I’m overwhelmed by the windfall of knowledge.

“You weren’t in a proper place to hear it. Neither were you aware of your true heritage.” He pulls me closer.

“What do I have to do with any of this?”

“Let me show you.”

To my disappointment, I don’t fight him when he sinks me into a kiss. It’s like I have this calling to do something fearfully magnificent beyond the scope of the universe itself, and for the first time I feel the weight of its burden locked on my shoulders. The only way I could even hope to harvest a glance into the future is directly through Marshall’s upper orifice.

It’s a vision of me. I’m not anywhere or doing anything. I’m glowing. My entire person radiates a soft rainbow of light. It illuminates me from the inside like the soft flicker of a candle. My hair shimmers in waves of gold floss, my eyes speak a soulful language all their own. I don’t believe I could ever look that beautiful.

A flash goes off, then a loud thump towards the doorway.

My eyes fly open to find Mia gripping her phone as she takes off running out the back.

I have a feeling all unholy hell is about to break loose. And it will be anything but beautiful.

Chapter Forty-Four

I’ve Got a Feeling

In the morning, before breakfast, I consider the fact that according to Mia, not only am I pregnant—but I’m also cheating on Gage with my math teacher. She’s loaded with dangerous half-truths, and right about now I wish it were in reverse. I’d much rather be pregnant with Gage’s love child than let Marshall ply me with the future by way of his lips. I should have known the vision was going to be futile, they always are, except for when they’re not, like the life shattering ones that came to fruition in a surprising way at my birthday party. Then it hits me.

Crap.

Not only am I Chloe’s bitch—but I’ve been hijacked by Mia as well.

Downstairs, I find Mia and Mom huddled by the stove locked in a secretive conversation. Quite frankly I’m still too peeved at them for being Counts to really care what they’re whispering about, but I’m guessing I can take a lucky stab at the subject.

Mia straightens when she sees me then makes a beeline upstairs.

Figures. Now all I have to do is wait for Tad to hold the next ‘family meeting’. Tad and Drake walk in the room and take seats at the bar.

“So are you going to this—all school sleep, right after Christmas?” Tad looks perturbed by the idea.

That’s right, I think Brielle mentioned something, but I think it was called something else.

“All school ski,” Drake corrects, “and yes.”

“Me too.” I make myself a cup of coffee and pluck a banana from the fruit bowl.

“Sounds like a week long orgy if you ask me,” Tad says. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

My eyes bug out at Mom. Did he just say the word orgy? It’s breakfast for God’s sake. I suppose Mom will use this as a springboard to discuss their efforts at creating a satanic spawn.

“Speaking of away,” my mother sings, “our away time is next weekend!” She beams over at him. “I think we’ll make a romantic rendezvous out of it, you know, really get the juices going.”

“Oh, please no,” I blurt out the words without thinking.

“Skyla,” Mom sighs in exasperation.

“No, really, I’m all for it.” The more they’re away the better.

An errant thought floats through my brain. If Mom and Tad are up for hatching more larva anyway, maybe Holden could somehow get that body? Heck, I bet I could help cultivate him into quite the upright citizen, a potential presidential candidate, even. Plus, I wouldn’t have to think about him leering at me every time I get out of the shower. Well, not for at least thirteen years.

I look over at Mom and Tad and wonder if I have the guts to try and pull a stunt like that. Doubtful, plus it reeks of stupid, not that I’ve ever let that stop me before. I blow out a breath. At least Tad hasn’t uttered Holden’s favorite word.

“Somebody,” Tad starts.

Shit.

He flexes the newspaper, “has got to clue this school in on what teenagers do behind their parent’s backs.”

I push my coffee aside and wait for it. He pulled the pin. It’s just a matter of moments before…

The ground shakes, unnatural gyrations that rival a ride at the amusement park— buck and heave beneath us.

Usually it’s just me privy to these supernatural events, so I hold off on a full-blown panic until I see Mom straddling the kitchen sink with her head pulled back.

“Earthquake!” She rips the words from her lungs in one lusty cry.

I can hear Mia and Melissa thundering down the stairs howling with fear.

The windows start in on a violent rattle, a tremor so powerful I expect the glass to explode any minute. As if on cue, the entire backslider, along with the windows in the dining room, ejaculate into the air forming a tornado of glass, with every last shard spiking right into…Tad?

The earth ceases all movement. The chandelier engages in a silent homage to the convulsions we’ve just endured, but we ignore it. We ignore the fact we’ve just bared witness to one of the most violent earthquakes we’ve ever lived through and stare down at Tad—at the thing of horror he’s become.

***

The first response team, which consists of six firemen complete in bloated yellow suits, stare down at Tad as more of a curiosity rather than a victim. I swear I saw one snapping a picture with his cell, his hand was discretely hidden underneath a clipboard, but I saw the flash.

“Superficial wounds,” one of them informs my mother. He’s older with silver hair, bright blue eyes like Gage, and he has a comforting way about him, so my mother lets him hold her.

Tad rolls from side to side moaning while they load him onto the gurney, and the EMT tells him sweetly to shut up. It’s more southern charm than it is nasty, but for all practical purposes I don’t mind Tad being put in his place, not even in this bizarre state.

Mom gathers her purse and keys from the entry.

“I’m going to the hospital. Can you make sure the girls get a ride to school either with you and Gage, or Drake?”

I nod in obedience. I guess Mom isn’t aware of the fact Gage hasn’t really driven me anywhere in forever, and I guess this isn’t the best time to inform her I’ll be taking my driver’s test tomorrow after school.

“It’s so strange, all these things that keep happening,” she mutters, riffling through her purse.

Her auburn hair is loose around her face. Her eyes are wired with bright railroad tracks that give way to tears.

“You know sometimes,” she looks up in frustration, “I wonder if this wasn’t meant to be.”

The fury that surrounds Tad speeds out of the house and is replaced with a palpable calm. I feel terrible that she’s doubting the foundations of her marriage, especially since it was me who inadvertently put a hex on it.

I think it’s officially time to call off Holden’s ghost, and I have a feeling it’s going to be easier said than done.

A creak emits from the dining room, and the chandelier starts in on a slow swing, rocking from one side to the other. The drywall overhead cracks and splinters as the entire crystal-laden unit lands on the table with a crash.

On second thought I’m going to need a miracle, or the intervention of a very powerful Sector.

I know exactly how this is going down.

Marshall is going to eat my soul for breakfast.

Chapter Forty-Five

Fierce

A dark curtain of a cloud stretches over Paragon smooth and rich as deep grey velvet.

Ms. Richards calls us into cheer lineup and claps until we’re all facing front and settled into obedience.

“I received word today that the all state cheer competition will take place in Tacoma this year. We need to start a travel fund. I need you girls to put your thinking caps on and start up those car washes, cupcake drives, gift wrapping services outside of department stores, anything to help us get to the competition as a team.” She gives a few wild claps. “Chloe!”

Chloe jumps to the front as Ms. Richards replaces her on the grass.

“The basket toss is the final stunt of the competition, and this is one event we’ve always been strong at. Skyla, you’ll be the butterfly,” she cuts me a devious look before babbling on about allegiance to our school and pride, but all I can think about is how much I hate heights.

“Um,” I raise my hand. “I think technically Brielle is a touch lighter than me. Plus, she’s got like way less hair, and—”

“Freaking shit, Messenger!” Chloe cuts me off. “If you cared anything at all about the team you’d hack your hair off like Michelle.”

The bitch squad goes rigid. We all know damn well Michelle hacked off her tresses because she’s gone bat-shit crazy, well, that, and the fact she’s swimming in the deep end of the Fem pool.

“OK, everyone on your feet—lets go!” Chloe relishes playing the part of drill sergeant. It makes Michelle’s wrath seem like long forgotten glory days.

She instructs the other girls to get in a tight circle.

“Not here!” She shouts and points hard over to the concrete. “There.”

“That’s not safe,” Brielle clutches at her throat.

That’s so sweet. Brielle must really care about me. Either that, or the thought of my head splitting like a watermelon takes her morning sickness to a whole other level.

Chloe gets right in her face. “Tell me, when was the last time you saw grass in the gym?” Her ponytail whips around her face like a wild python. “I thought so. On the cement, right now!”

We follow her over to the blacktop, and the girls get into a tight knit circle.

“Um, maybe we could get a few of the football players to help spot. What do you think?” I look right at Ms. Richards who barely notices us anymore ever since she’s given free reign to the queen of treachery.

Ms. Richards twitches her nose then looks down at the far end of the field before calling the coach.

Ha! I won. I try not to gloat in Chloe’s direction. I’m sure she’s already plotting to douse me with kerosene and set me on fire. Of course, she’ll probably save that maneuver for the competition in an effort to outdo the other team.

Logan and Gage run over with two other guys. Now this will be a pleasure.

I step onto the circle of their hands with Logan’s just beneath my feet.

“On the count of three I want you to catapult her into the sky as high as you possibly can,” Chloe screams. “Show the girls that you’re better than them. I want to see Messenger’s ass on the moon! One, two—

It occurs to me in that moment that perhaps it wasn’t the stroke of genius I thought it was having four strong football players toss me in the air. As soon as Chloe said the word moon, my stomach leaped in fear—

“Three!”

I’m flying. I’m cutting through the wind like a rocket ship, a missile—a butterfly.

West Paragon High retracts beneath me. It exposes itself in miniature as the earth begins to curve, my face buried in the thick of the clouds. I’m so frightened I don’t flex my hands over my feet, or even think about any competition.

Then the earth comes up on me fast. I see the worried expressions of both Logan and Gage as a swarm of hands reach for me haphazardly with a gaping hole in the middle.

Oh shit.

I land soft in the arms of a wall of strength. My eyes open, and I’m greeted with an explosion of gorgeous dimples—eyes the color of the stratosphere.

“You caught me,” I say breathless.

Gage presses a kiss onto my lips. “I’ll always catch you.”

***

I wait until after cheer to present Marshall with the Holden debacle.

Gage is busy shuttling Catastrophe Chloe around, who I badly wish was Casket Chloe once again. Then he’s driving all the way back to give me a ride home because he’s really just that nice, and contrary to what Chloe believes, he really is my boyfriend. I so desperately miss Gage. I miss him driving me to school and walking me to class, the way he held me through lunch. Chloe needs to be boxed up—and fast. She’s redefined the word miserable ever since her untimely return.

Mom sent a text during lunch and let me know they finished taking the final bits of glass out of Tad. She mentioned the nurses tried counting each shard, but gave up after two hundred.

“So he was literally encrusted in glass.” I shake my head at Marshall. “He was like glass-man. He had this coat of glass, and if he got up and walked around it would have been totally freaky.”

“Freaky,” he mimics. “I’m rather impressed. Even I felt the quake this morning. You know it made the local news. Guess where they said the epicenter was?”

My mouth falls open.

He digs his cheek into the side of his face. “The grid read precisely under the Landon residence.” He crosses his arms with the slightest irate expression.

“What?” I’m not sure, but it seems like he’s trying to drive a point home, only, I’m clueless as to what the point might be.

“You, Skyla, have unleashed a category five disaster. Hurricane Holden has proven he’s ready and willing to do whatever you wish to get himself back into a breathing body, because you, my dear, made a promise.”

“Shhh,” I press my finger to my lips.

“He’s not here. I don’t allow him near me.” He gathers a stack of papers and sloshes them into his briefcase.

“So what am I gonna do?”

“I don’t know what you’re going to do.” He snaps it shut and buckles the latches. “In fact, I don’t believe you realize what it is you’ve done to begin with. You’ve given a wicked soul dominion over an area of your life.”

“I’ll take it back. I’ll tell him to stop.”

“Too late. He’s accumulated all the power he needs. Let me give you a piece of advice, and please retain it. I’d hate to needlessly expel air for the benefit of having you nod absentmindedly.”

I nod feverishly.

Marshall closes his eyes with great patience before continuing. “Whatever he does, however much it hurts, you must not pay him any mind. As far as you’re concerned he simply doesn’t exist.”

“And that will make him stop torturing Tad?” I’m both hopeful and surprisingly disappointed.

“That’s unlikely to happen,” Marshall stands and motions for me to do the same. “Just be glad you’ll be out of the house in a year’s time and won’t have to stick around to watch the show. You’ve bound them, Skyla, and now the only way to remove this bondage is to do what you set out to begin with. Find Holden a body.”

“Will you help me?”

“No.” He speeds to the door and flicks off the light.

I follow him out into the hall, down the stairs and out into a darkened world with a moth eaten sky.

“Gage won’t be back for a few more minutes,” I say. “You wanna hang out? We can go over the chapter test if you want?” I let my desperation linger.

“I’ve got a meeting.” He winks. “Someone you know will be there.”

“My mother?” My mouth falls open interrupting a smile. This is far better than a chapter test. “Can I come with you?”

“Are you interested in taking your last breath? We have a strict no mortals allowed policy.”

“Oh, well, tell her that her daughter, the one being raised by Counts, says hello. Will my father be there?”

“I don’t know.” He begins to walk off into the murky shadows of the parking lot.

“Marshall?” I run over to him. “If the Fems have aligned with the Counts, who have the Sectors aligned with? Or have they?” It seems doubtful they would need to.

“Celestra.” He ticks his head as though I should have figured this out. His face looks deeply tanned lost in the shadows, the white of his eyes call out like glossy beacons.

“There’s not that many.” And I hate to say it, but after the slaughter Logan imposed, I wouldn’t be surprised if soon enough I was the last one standing.

“We don’t need many.” He leans forward and strokes my cheek. “We just need one.”

***

“We just need one. We just need one,” I whisper over and over again, alone in the dark at West Paragon High. I sing it to myself until my brain begs to split from the effort. It sounds like a chant, like a spell that has the ability to call something wicked into being by the sheer determination of the cadence alone.

Gage called and let me know he was on Main Street. That means about four more miles, and he’ll rescue me from the armpit of my nightmares, which has seemingly morphed into West.

Cerberus gleams in the night like a relic from my rose-riddled nightmares. Six eyes stare into the dark, three tongues lash wild off the side of the boy’s gym. The hound that guards hell, also guards West Paragon. I would have loved to have sat in on that PTA meeting when the board approved this infernal wall mural of monolithic proportions. Obviously hallucinogenics were involved.

I peek over at the subject of my contention through slotted fingers. Three heads, each locked in fury, three forked tongues licking into the night. It reminds me of the Fem that replicated its horrifying effigy the night Chloe died—correction, the night I killed Chloe. Strange how the Fems intimately know your fears.