Wicked (25 page)

Not to be outdone by the party queen next door, Mia’s get together actually has enough people to outfit a small nation. It wouldn’t surprise me if the entire lot of us dropped into Paragon’s infamous underworld from the sheer weight of hundreds of jostling bodies. My mind strays to the rooms in the Transfer that house Counts in liquid Drano. I wonder if Brielle knows about them?

“So you think there’s still a chance?” Brielle hiccups into me.

I can’t believe I’m comforting a Count—a knocked up Count no less, while Drake is in there pawing all over Emily.

“You can have anyone,” I tell her. Brielle’s mother is out at a conference, so she decided to have a few friends over. Funny how she and Mia classify a ‘few friends’ in the same manner, must be a Count thing.

“I don’t want just anyone.”

“Look, he’s still into you. He just thinks you’ve lost it and are threatening him with a fake pregnancy.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He hates puking, and when you kept hurling, he was afraid you were going to get him sick. It’s not that he doesn’t want you, he just doesn’t want the stomach flu.” I think.

“Really?” Tears gloss down her cheeks. “I totally know how to fix this. Thanks.” She pushes in a wet kiss on the side of my face before taking off across the street.

A pair of headlights wink in my direction before parking high on the ridge.

Marshall gets out and struts on over. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt pulled over a thermal. He looks hot and young, and oh freaking shit.

“No.” I hold up a hand.

“I received a note stating you wanted to take our relationship public. Interesting venue.” He glances over at Brielle’s house.

“You know that note wasn’t from me.”

“Yes, but your name was attached to it, so I thought I’d swing by and appease the one who sent it. Come,” he presses into my lower back as we make our way up the driveway.

A few guys in Ellis’ stoner circle call out to him. He’s like a rock star in this environment as we walk into a masculine choir of Dudley.

With Marshall glued to my side, we immediately garner the attention of, well, everyone as we enter the house. Logan is talking to Chloe in the corner as Gage comes back with drinks for the two of them. They all stare disbelieving. Gage glowers at us his with dark brows crouched over those electric blue eyes like a bat in flight.

I duck into the hall in an effort to ditch Marshall and run smack into Nat and Pierce.

Shit.

Her eyes have healed, and her skin looks even toned for the first time in days. Her hair’s all wiry and locked in a kinky mess of curls that, in this dim light, actually gives her that Medusa effect.

I spin on my heels and land face first in Marshall’s chest. I yank him along until we bypass Nat and her bloodsucking boyfriend and land in the cool night air right out back.

“You’d rather we be alone. I like where this is going,” he growls pulling me in.

“No,” I say, pushing back. “You have to help me.”

“Why?” His eyes light up like copper kettles.

“You need me to fight a war. It’s the least you can do, you owe me.”

“Do tell.” His features soften.

“First, a body for Holden. I don’t like the thought of him leering at me all night long. Plus, I’m a tiny bit afraid of him. Second, deal with Natalie and Pierce. They’re really starting to piss me off. Maybe humiliate them in the worst possible way.” I close my eyes briefly. “And would you please get rid of Chloe? I’m sorry I ever thought she was a good idea. She won’t let me near my boyfriend, and that’s just…” I grapple for words, “wrong.”

“Drama.” His chest gives way to a sigh. “For your information, I don’t owe you anything. In fact you’ve yet to thank me for hauling both you and your supposed boyfriend out of the Transfer.”

“You did that?” I marvel.

“Yes, I did that.” His cheek slides up one side.

“So it is called the Transfer. How did we get there in the first place?”

“I don’t know,” his lips twist when he says it while holding back a smile.

“You must have been there. Hey, are you watching me?” I blink into the realization.

“Am I watching you, or am I watching the Transfer?”

The moon casts a scant shadow down over the yard. It bleeds through the forest just beyond the property and dapples us in rich buttery light.

“So are you going to put an end to all these mysteries?” I ask dipping into him.

“Like?”

“Like what the Transfer is, why you need me to help fight the Fems, when I’ll get to meet my mother?”

“Too deep. Let’s get back to the task at hand. Holden gets a body, Natalie and Pierce suffer abject humiliation, and Chloe,” he pauses, “nothing I can do about that one. You’ve made your bed, Skyla.”

“You could humiliate Chloe.” Everything feels hopeless. “What about the spirit sword?”

“You can’t kill her, but you could try, the results might be amusing.”

“I’ll settle for whatever you can do.”

“Very well.” He takes in a breath. “I’ll filter through your wish list, but you’ll have to do something for me in exchange.”

“And I want Nevermore.”

He raises a brow as if to affirm this.

“Well then,” I lick my lips. “I’ll do just about anything.”

Chapter Fifty-One

Anything Goes

The windows shake in time to music turned up far too loud, booming out of crap speakers that replicate to perfection the sound of crumpling paper.

It’s electrifying stepping into the crowd. I scan the room for signs of Chloe and Gage. A nagging feeling that things are about to go brilliantly wrong grazes along my nerves.

“Come on, Holden,” I whisper. “Come out and play one last time. It’s your chance to be the life of the party—make it memorable like only you can.”

It’s not that I need Holden’s assistance in what I’m about to do. It’s not that Marshall has asked me to do anything I’ve never done before—hauling Michelle into a the crowd and having a cat fight over him—ditching the scene with him to prove a point—an open mouthed kiss as payment, but it’s Gage whose heart I’m eager to protect. Hopefully Holden will create enough havoc that I won’t have to.

I see Gage over by the window. His steel cut gaze bores through me with heart stopping intensity. His lips curve and ignite a smile that almost waylays me into forgetting my mission.

I scan the room for Michelle, her awkward haircut, that dim rose of hopelessness she wears around her neck.

Brielle catches my eye near the door, her hands wrapped securely around a dark figure, and she’s laughing, dipping her head back as he nips at her ear. He turns just enough for his face to get caught in a narrow strip of light.

Drake?

They’re back together! I’m completely caught off guard. Just seeing them in the same proximity brims me to the limit with hope for me and Gage. Love prospers. It doesn’t dissipate under duress, it grows, affirms itself in ways we could never imagine. There’s nothing Chloe can do to keep us apart.

“Hard right,” Marshall whispers just before heading out the door. He wants his hands clean, and I can’t say I blame him.

“Body—body, body, body, body, body, body,” I whisper like an incantation on my way over to Michelle. I’m secretly hoping the Holden show will take over. I’m not really in the mood to kick some Miller ass at the moment, especially not while declaring my love for Marshall.

I step in next to Emily and Michelle.

“So what’s going on?” I say rather unexpectedly, but neither Michelle, nor Emily seem to notice me. “Hey, where’s Lexy?” She has this thing for Logan, and even though I don’t want him, I’m not exactly optioning him out to other people.

“Excuse me, but we’re trying to have a private conversation here.” Emily’s nostrils flare when she says it. She’s obviously miffed about the whole Drake and Brielle reunion. Speaking of which, I should totally think of a couple’s name for them, like Dreielle, or Brake.

“I was just looking for Lexy,” I shout over the music. My gaze drifts outside the window where I find Marshall on his cell. “Oh, and Michelle?” I don’t take my eyes off him. I hope he’s incurring some incredible roaming charge for what he’s about to make me do. I give a quick glance over at Chloe who’s totally hijacking Gage at the moment. I hope she breaks out in hives every time she thinks of him.

“What?” Michelle barks in my face zipping the rose across her neck like a pendulum.

Emily leans in. “I realize you have no real friends, but could you leave us the hell alone, we don’t want you here.”

I stand there stunned by Emily’s harsh words. Do I have any real friends? Can I trust anyone I’ve met while living on Paragon? How do I know I can trust Logan the Count or even Gage for that matter? Marshall wants to me to give him dominion by way of my uterus, and Chloe has already shown her true colors. What if the people that hate me are my truest friends of all?

I should grab Michelle by what little hair she has left, pull and run. But I don’t want to get the things that I want by hurting people, not even Michelle.

Instead, I lean in and ask Emily something I’d really like an answer to. “So what’s up with all those freaky pictures?”

The whites of her eyes flash, her hand reaches up and twists my shirt. Then she does the unimaginable and lifts it effortlessly over my head leaving me in nothing but my bra in front of all the kids from East and West.

Now, if I had worn my black lace push up, or my peach barely there see through, or even no freaking bra it would have been less embarrassing than the beige orthopedic number I threw on in a hurry this morning.

An echo of gasps whip across the room.

I pull down my shirt and push hard into Emily in one easy move. Looks like I get my throw down after all, just not the one stipulated by Marshall.

A hard knock comes at me from behind, and I fall on my face—it’s Michelle, she did it. She initiated the fight. Oddly I’m filled with relief.

A familiar looking set of tennis shoes bolt in my direction. I roll onto my back and launch Michelle up near the ceiling before Gage could even hope to save the day. Little does he know that I’m saving the day, and doing multiple public services all at the same time.

Michelle lands hard on the floor just shy of my face and I pin down both her arms. “Oh, Holden,” I whisper. “You have truly let me down,” I grit the words through my teeth. I can feel Gage trying to pluck me off by the waist, but I’m so close to declaring my affection for Marshall I can’t let him.

“Keep your hands off Dudley,” I shout, sorely lacking the proper enthusiasm. Marshall steps into the house feigning a look of surprise. He’s so obvious. I want to vomit all over Michelle first, then him.

Gage moves slightly, and I see the spirit sword flirting with me from beneath his shirt.

Without offering it any thought, I jump up and yank it free in one clean swipe. I run my finger over the back of the blade and feel it strum through me with a pleasing electrical current. The dull room lights up in a beautiful shade of astral blue as I dart over to a horrified Chloe.

It would be so easy to try and carve her just like Tad did the Thanksgiving turkey, so laboriously, painfully slow. But there are too many witnesses, and surprisingly even in all this fury, I can see the upside to not being locked in jail. Instead, I snatch at the necklace and give a quick swipe with the blade.

A clean line of blood erupts.

“Oh my, God!” Someone screams from behind.

Shit!

I think I just decapitated Chloe Bishop in front of God, and country, and a thousand fucking witnesses.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Shatter

A thin seam of blood quickly soaks Chloe’s sweater. She stares down in horror as her face bleeds out all color.

It’s safe to say I miscalculated the length of the knife. It’s safe to say I…

A vacuum fills the room. Every orifice in my body is suctioned so succinctly that having my brain siphoned out of my ears feels like a very real possibility. In a sudden burst, the pressure gives. The windows all blow in simultaneously, and a rush of bloodied bodies explode in riotous screams. The floor moves, first in slow rolling motions then hard sudden jerks. Holden is really going all out, on this, his last night as a disembodied soul.

Pictures fly off the walls, people, purses, vases—bottles are jagging around the vicinity. The room whips up like a tornado, round and round until there’s just one intense melting pot of color. Then, in a thunderous clap, everything crashes.

You could say free falling from Brielle’s ceiling was something to behold—a weightless wonder, plunging into the startled world below. I land soft as leaf into Logan’s waiting arms.

Casting a quick glance around, I spot Ellis tending to an almost decapitated Chloe, so I head on over.

“Looks like that flying glass really did a number on you.” I give her a hard look.

She swipes her hand over her injury and looks down at her glossy fingertips.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen.” She clutches at the pendant around her neck.

“Sure it could happen.” Logan picks the sword up off the floor and gives it back to me. “She’s a Celestra, pure as you.”

“Really? I could kill Chloe?” I look over at her as she shrinks with fear.

Logan places his fingers on my bare arm. You could if she wasn’t wearing that necklace. You’d go to justice alliance. Also prison would be a real possibility because they don’t defend killing within your own faction.

So what you’re saying is—I could kill you, no problem. I give a wry smile.

Sirens cut through the music, and the outside world ignites in a riot of patriotic colors.

“Let’s go.” Gage wraps an arm around me. “Chloe, I’m sure your mom will gladly pick you up from the hospital.”

Ellis steps up. “I’ll stay with her.”

It takes everything in me not to scowl at Ellis for being nice to her.

“I hope you feel better.” I lean over to Chloe and smack my hand flat against her forehead. Press charges, and I’ll cut a little deeper next time. “You feel warm, you’d better get some rest.”

She reaches up and digs her fingernails into my arm. You’re with Dudley now. Don’t forget it. And Skyla? I hear the Counts would love to have you.