Wicked (23 page)

“Excuse me?” A kind male voice surprises me from behind.

I jump around and gasp.

A clown!

A shocking white face, thick and pale as paste, gapes back at me. His eyes are drawn in with heavy red shadow. His smile spreads over half his face with a grotesque lipstick grimace that has the distinct glossy trail of something far more sinister—like blood.

I can’t breathe, or move, or think.

Chapter Forty-Six

Run

I take off into the night, dropping my backpack, losing the sweater tied around my waist—my headband.

I run through the student parking lot clutching my phone with a death grip as though it were Gage himself, all the while breathing Chloe’s name like a curse. I hate her more than I thought imaginable for holding both my bird and boyfriend hostage. I need Nevermore as much as I need Gage. It’s not like Chloe’s going to have Fems chasing her anytime soon with that protective hedge clamped around her neck.

The distant streetlights illuminate my erratic breathing into spastic paper white blooms. I hit the thicket just beyond the gravel parking lot and rush in at top speed.

An old cadence from childhood strums through my mind at a million miles an hour, you’re running through the forest and you’re running really fast and you run into a tree. I say it over and over until somehow the words comfort me. The idea of hitting a tree head on and having my skull fractured—my brain swell out through the crevices— actually soothes me compared to meeting up with the monster grunting behind me.

Something shifts in the forest. It breaks up the shadows with texture and movement. I can feel its heft unsettle the ground beneath me.

I pause behind a small fortress of ingrown pines, trying to ration my breathing as I lie still and listen. Then I see it, in the starlit clearing, a wolf-like creature the size of Drake’s car crawls to life. It maneuvers its way over to me, bearing its teeth, long as pencils.

I thought I knew my fears. I thought I understood their depths and how long I could last under their tyranny until I would succumb, but here in the cover of night, under the supervision of an anemic moon, I meet fear anew. This is a fantastic fear that covers me numb with shock. It asks nothing in return, as though I were an inconsequential target, just a passerby who stumbled upon an enormous wolf and a bloody clown.

A scream dissipates in my throat. A paralysis so strong grips me I have to remind myself to breathe.

The beast gives an unapologetic snarl in my direction.

I let out an unearthly cry and shatter the silence for miles.

A hard thump lands on my back and sends me crashing to the ground. I look over my shoulder and see a chalk white face, red oblong eyes—an exaggerated smile.

I’ve heard that one sure way to conquer fear is to face it head on. I’m no expert, but I’m guessing the person who said that was A. purely speculating, and B. an ass.

A thin trail of blood runs from its open mouth and trickles down my neck.

Shit!

I claw at the earth to get free from beneath it.

“Gage!” I call out like a wounded animal, terrified and helpless. The Fem cuts off my breathing, lays over me solid as a truck. Its stench burns into my nostrils and induces the urge to vomit. Strong rolls of nausea cycle through me until I start in on a series of unproductive dry heaves.

An audible grunt floats from up above.

“Gage?” I ask hopeful. It sounded distinctly female. Maybe it’s Brielle—or Michelle in a tirade of insanity.

The dead Fem rolls off with its flour white face staring dismal into space. I jump to my feet and turn around.

A curtain of dark hair swings back like a shield before I see her.

“It’s you!” I say, fascinated while staring at Giselle, Gage’s long dead sister. She looks murky, taller than I remember, and a part of me is starting to wonder if I’m hallucinating again.

A low threatening growl trembles through the forest.

I take her by the hand and lead us towards the parking lot. Yellow glowing eyes zigzag through the branches. I can’t tell how many there are. It could be one, but feels like fifty. The wolf-like creature touches down in front of us blocking our path. The fur on its back spikes up like porcupine quills as it reclines on its heels ready to pounce.

“I’m strong,” I whisper trying to convince myself. Truth is, I haven’t felt the need to test my strength or speed since I came out of the hospital, but if Marshall hearing my thoughts is any indication, I’m willing to bet my reflexes are more than a little off.

“Skyla?” Giselle pulls me back by the elbow.

The beast leaps in the air with distended claws, snapping its red angry mouth in our direction.

We’re done. Really, I guess it’s just me that’s done since Giselle was done a long time ago.

It rises above us howling and scratching the air like a cat on fire. A shower of blood rains down from either side.

It is spectacular to watch, the elephantine beast exploding midair.

Gage!

He stands behind it with the spirit sword glowing by his side. He bolts over and spins me in a circle.

“You OK?”

“I am now. You always have that thing handy?”

“Never leave home without it.” He takes a deep breath in the crook of my neck.

I lean in and meet him with a warm kiss. “Guess what?” I glance around the dark. I don’t see Giselle anymore, and something about this frightens me.

“What?” he pants into my ear.

“I…” Maybe it was just another hallucination. God—I must really be insane.

“What is it?” Gage picks up on my trepidation—only he earmarks it as fear and yanks the sword back out of its sheath.

“Never mind.” I push his arm down. “Get me out of here. I want to go home.”

We tread our way out of the forest, Gage with his arm around my waist, and me with my sanity hanging on for dear life.

“Excuse me?” A weak voice strangles the silence.

I avoid saying her name in the event I’ve accidentally bonded myself to another spiritual appendage, some demonic imposter who’s ready to take down the final pillar of my frail lucidity. But I see her. I see her pale face, glowing blue eyes, and the dimples replicated so well on her person that she looks like the exact female representation of Gage.

“It’s her,” I whisper. “It’s your sister.”

His hand goes limp, and he staggers into the forest a good five feet before pausing.

Giselle emerges into a thin sliver of moonlight, it washes over her like a supernatural waterfall of brilliance, and at the moment she looks every bit human.

He rushes to meet her, and they connect in an explosive embrace.

A loud hiss followed by a bright light detonates to our left.

The bloody carcass of the beast lights up the forest in a wash of quivering light.

I clamp my hand over my mouth in awe of its spontaneous combustion.

Gage pulls his sister over and grabs me by the waist. We run towards his truck with the engine still running and the driver’s door wide open.

“I can’t go with you,” she says.

“Do you have a message from my mother? Is that why you came?”

Another ball of fire ignites behind her deep in the forest as the Fem bursts into flames.

I can hear Gage on the phone calling in the fire.

Her face contorts as though there were so much she wanted to tell me, and now there isn’t time.

“Come with us,” I say getting into the truck.

“You look a lot like her.” She squints into a pained smile. “I can’t stay. She just wanted me to let you know there’s a reason for all this. It’s bigger than you, Skyla. She wants you to be strong.”

Another vague pep talk.

I jump down from the truck as the forest erupts into a blaze as tall as a high-rise.

“Tell her I want to meet her,” I try to swallow down my budding fury. “Tell her I’m in a shitload of trouble, and it would be really nice if my dead angelic mother could pull a few fucking strings for me.” My sudden burst of anger surprises me.

“Testy.” Her ears pull back in amusement.

“Testy?” I can barely get the word out. “The forest is on fire. I have the blood of a Fem all over me, and the one person I help bring back to life thanks me by stealing my boyfriend. Yes, I’m testy!”

Gage takes me by the shoulder and gently walks me backwards.

Giselle’s face peaks in frustration. “I’ll fill her in on how you feel.” She blows a kiss to Gage and disappears.

“Fill her in?” I say disbelieving.

The shrill cry of a siren cuts through the air like a serrated blade.

We hop in the truck, and the doors clamp shut, and the engine starts on its own volition before Gage has a chance to insert the key.

“Shit,” Gage mutters. “Get out, Skyla.”

We thrash into the doors to no avail—the locks won’t budge.

The truck spirals around in a wild circle before taking off as fast as the engine will allow—straight into the burning inferno.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Lost

White glowing walls, a stainless table lies in the corner with sinister looking tools sprawled out.

“Is this?” Gage pauses, taking it all in.

“The Transfer.” I feel my way around the room until an opening appears that leads to a dark carpeted hall. “Emerson’s here.”

Gage wraps an arm around me as we drift down corridors clinging to walls. The hallway opens up to an incandescent light, and I lead him over to the tanks.

“There she is.” I lay my hand flat on the cool glass.

Gage leans in and watches her slow dizzy spin.

“It is her,” his skin glows a soft blue from the reflection.

“What is this place?” I walk over to the boy with short dark hair as he continues in his watery slumber. “Do you know this guy?”

Gage comes over and examines him.

“He looks sort of like,” he pauses squinting into him.

“Like Drake, right?” Not quite like Tad, but almost. “Weird.”

“That’s more than weird.” He stoops towards the metal band slapped to the bottom of the tank. It’s turned in towards the wall making it impossible to read. “I can’t see it.” Gage plucks at the metal strip in an effort to remove it.

“Can you spin the tank?” I try to twist it.

“Doubt it.” He pulls at the glass until it starts to turn.

“You got it!”

“I see it,” he grunts.

A loud pop crackles overhead, and a trickle of blue liquid runs down the side of the glass.

Gage pulls me back a good three feet as the tank begins to shatter. Water gushes out with a hushed roar as the body drops to the ground in a heap.

“Time to go,” Gage pulls me further into the facility, into another room lined with aisles after aisles of long glass tubes filled with bright blue water.

“Dear God,” I whisper. Each tank is filled with a tangle of floating limbs, a halo of hair rising from each one.

An alarm sounds. A rumble of footsteps erupt in the corridor.

The scent of smoke fills my nostrils as the room turns strangely dim.

***

A fiery slap commences over my cheek as my eyes struggle to open.

A man in a yellow hat telescopes in and out of focus until I realize it’s a fireman.

I sit up shocked to find myself back in the soot-covered forest. My clothes are charred, and my hands covered in muck.

“Where’s Gage?” I choke the words out.

“He’s locked and loaded, ready to go.”

To my surprise I’ve already been hoisted onto a gurney. We traverse through the woods, still burning in spots, as we make our way to the open mouth of the waiting ambulance.

I lean up as the bed collapses beneath me, and they glide me right alongside Gage.

His skin is covered with a thick layer of grime, and there’s an oxygen mask securely fastened over his nose and mouth. His eyes are closed, and this scares the hell out of me.

I wait until they place an identical mask on my face, and the ambulance wails down the street before reaching over and clasping onto his hand, cold and limp.

I jostle and squeeze him trying to rouse him from his slumber—but nothing.

All of the kisses we have ever shared flash before my eyes. It is majestic, this love affair of ours, so powerful and regal.

It’s the kind of love that fairytales are born of.

The kind that often ends in tragedy.

***

Smoke inhalation.

Both Gage and I sucked in a lungful of ashes, and now we’re reaping the consequences.

I must not be that bad because they’re sending me home, but they insist on keeping Gage for observation.

“You’re awake!” I say, making my way over. As soon as the doctor said I was released, I made a beeline to his room.

Gage gets up on his elbows, his face still slightly smeared with grit.

I hop up next to him on the bed. “You should really consider becoming a fireman. You’re way hot with all that soot on your face,” I say.

His eyes pierce through like sirens as he coughs out a small laugh.

“I’m so glad you’re gonna be OK.” I lean in and offer a soft welcoming kiss, pull at his lips with mine as if we were anywhere but a hospital room.

“I don’t know how we got out of there,” Gage whispers into my neck. “Something tells me it was just in time.” His eyes dart to the door before returning his gaze. I know he’s talking about the Transfer. “I saw the name on the tank.”

A loud rustle erupts from the doorway.

“She’s in here, Lizbeth!” It’s Tad. His hair is rumpled, and he’s got a gown wrapped around him. His entire face is scabbed over with pinpricks.

Mom runs in and tackles me with a hug.

“Are the two of you, OK?” Her pea green eyes stare out in horror.

“Yes,” I say. And judging by the way Tad’s standing there with his arms folded in judgment, so is he.

“I just finished a nice conversation with an officer of the law,” he huffs. “Turns out your romantic tryst in the woods burned down nearly a half acre on school premises.”

“Our what?” I ask.

“They found candles,” he directs it to my mother. “He said the two of you were tangled up in one another when they found you.” He reverts back to Mom. “It looks like they were overcome with smoke from the inferno they set off.”