Vex (12 page)

So,
this
is the Dudley lookalike? He’s so far from looking anything like Marshall it’s almost a joke. Clearly when it comes to men, my mother’s default is set to the equivalent of a fun house mirror—with the exception of my father, of course. He was flawless in every way.

The doctor leads us to his office and beckons us to take a seat.

“Skyla,” he nods into me. “You, my dear, are not having a baby.”

A swell of relief fills me wide as the universe and I resist the urge to high-five Gage.

“She lost it?” Mom snatches at her chest in horror.

“No,” he closes his eyes briefly. “There’s no evidence of a pregnancy at all. The hormone levels are completely normal. Is there a reason you decided to make an appointment at our facility rather than purchasing an at home test?”

I look to Mom.

Her face is bright pink, and her lips are contorting in fifteen different shapes at once.

“I’m sorry you had to inconvenience yourselves like this,” he continues, “but, in the future, know this sort of mystery can be solved with a ten dollar kit from the grocery store.” He stands and shakes our hands in turn. “I look forward to seeing you again, Lizbeth.” And with that he walks out the room.

You can practically see the steam coming from Tad’s ears.

“This little side jaunt cost just under a thousand dollars,” his jaw remains clenched as he says it.

“I tried to tell you,” I start, but Tad raises a hand as though he can’t take another word.

“A thousand dollars we will never get back,” he says with his eyes shut.

“Because you didn’t trust me.” I lock eyes with Mom.

She circles my face with a darting gaze. There’s an apology written all over her person.

“Skyla,” she sighs, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m still a virgin.” I hope she’s taking notes because I never plan to utter those words again.

“Last night, you spent—” her hand quickly covers her lips at the travesty that was averted.

“I know. It’s a miracle.” I cut her a cold look.

We stand and head for the door.

 “Looks like you’re a little angel after all,” Tad says with a crooked grin. He waits until my mother leaves the room before whispering. “Something tells me a box full of hormonal monkeys has nothing on the two of you.”

“I am an angel,” I cut a hard look when I say it.

He looks from me to Gage.

“I know exactly what the two of you are.”

Chapter Nineteen

It’s a Dead Man’s Party

After falling over herself with apologies and embarrassing herself successfully over the phone with Emma, Mom has decided I am the most trustworthy child that ever walked the planet. And after Tad’s offhanded remark, Gage suggested we chalk it up to his own unique brand of I-hate-you humor, but keep an eye on him nonetheless.  

Logan happens to be having a get together tonight, so I tell Mom and Tad it’s in Holden’s honor. Drake and I lug him with us and all the way over he bitches about not having a car of his own even though Tad has graciously been letting him borrow the minivan at will.

“Ask your dad for a car,” I say as we head into the Oliver house, which has lost its docile homey appeal and looks rather like an imitation of Ellis’ abode on any given Saturday night.

The Olivers are at a mountain retreat and entrusted Logan and Gage with the house until they get back. I’m pretty sure hosting sixty plus teenagers wasn’t high on the to-do list.  

“That psychotic you gave me as a father?” Holden gives a hard sniff as though examining the air quality.

“No, the psychotic nature gave you the first time around—Arson Kragger,” I’m quick to correct. Tad doesn’t have money for another car after treating Gage and me to the most luxurious hotel room Seattle has to offer.

“Yeah, well,” Holden smirks at the thought. “He’s not so keen on the resurrected me.”

“Oh, that’s understandable, I guess. He probably needs you to prove you’re you.”

“He could give a rat’s ass that I’m me. He’s already collected on the life insurance. He’s a Count. He counts cash,” he shrugs. “I would have done the same thing.” His eyes reduce to slits as he scans the crowd. “My brother’s coming.”

“We don’t get along,” I inform.

“He’s got a proposition for you.”

“If it involves my neck and an artery, he can forget it.”

“It involves the charges you trumped up to save your own ass.”

Payback’s a bitch.

I give a brief smile as I take off to find Gage.

Brielle flags me down in the yard. The entire squad is seated in a circle on the lawn, including Nat. I’m almost afraid to be near her.

“We’re making plans!” Brielle shouts as I head over.

“To what, kill me?” I say, sitting down in between Brielle and Kate. I think at the end of the day the only person I should be friends with here is Kate, and I happen to know her the least.

“Oh, you’re so funny.” Brielle scoots into me. “Ski week is upon us and we always pull off the best pranks. So, we need original great ideas that will really mess with the guys heads.”

“Like decapitating them and reattaching them to other bodies?” That would really mess with their heads. It’s not such a stretch for me to think outside the mortal box anymore.

Chloe gives me the finger with my own hand. She’s wearing peep-toe FMs that showcase a sickly yellow nail polish. When is yellow nail polish ever a good idea? It screams
I’m a hundred and live in a nursing home, or I’m jaundice because I smoke ten packs a day, and hey, by the way, check out these freaky FMs.

“I bet you’d like to do that. Twist someone’s head off for pleasure.” Chloe eyes me like a predator.

“Just yours,” I shoot back. “And for your information, I was talking about switching heads. Sometimes the things you get are better than the things that get taken away.” For instance, her sees-through-walls eyeball.

“Like you and Dudley,” Chloe says it clear in the event the people eavesdropping behind us didn’t hear. “Gage came back to me and now you have Studley Dudley.” She cuts a look to Michelle.

Michelle Miller is pouring every ounce of her silent wrath upon me. You would think, I’ve stolen the sun from out of her world. She’s become a trapped bird locked in her hatred. Nothing good ever comes from a hatred that deep, especially not when someone believes you’ve pureed their heart for the simple reason you were able to.

“Well,” Kate stretches out her long legs into the circle before bouncing her Ugg boots on top of one another, “I like my head just where it is. I think we shouldn’t bother doing anything to the guys—just let them be on guard all week.”

“So, we need to choose roommates,” Chloe pats her hands down on the damp grass ignoring Kate’s wisdom.

“I choose Kate!” It bustles through my vocal cords so fast it sounds like one long word.

Kate pulls at a lock of her hair, staring at me curiously. We haven’t exchanged more than two words the entire time I’ve been on Paragon, and quite frankly, I’d like to keep it that way. The more I get to know these girls, the more I’m apprised to the fact they’re assholes.

“Four to a room,” Chloe looks around for other takers.

“Me,” Nat shoots a barb through me when she says it.

“Me,” Brielle raises her hand.

“I gotta go,” Emily says, rising to her feet. She bolts over to Holden so fast you’d think he just whistled for her.

“Isn’t that great Messenger? You’ve got yourself a new big brother.” Chloe laps up the irony.

“Oh, it’s great,” I give it all the necessary sarcasm, “but what I was really hoping for was another sister. Maybe Holden’s got one to spare?”

Her eyes narrow in on mine. Cut from me to Holden before widening with fright.

I love killing Chloe softly with revenge. It’s so much better than the quick merciful spear of the sword.

***

 I find Gage over by the makeshift outdoor bar, which consists mainly of water and soda. I like parties at the Oliver house much better than Ellis’. The lack of alcohol always manages to keep things at a semi-normal behavior level with no one passed out in the bushes or spontaneously pulling down their pants to show you their bare ass. Plus, it’s nice to carry on a conversation and not expect barf as a reasonable response, or witness public urination as soon as you step outside.  

“Off duty?” I spring a kiss off his cheek as I glance over at Chloe still converging with the bitch squad.

“She’s got other plans for the evening,” he says it grim.

“Oh,” I blink back surprise. “I don’t like the sound of that, like, at all.”

“Welcome to the club.” He leans in and swipes a quick kiss off my lips. “And here she is,” he whispers.

“Shit,” Chloe hisses. Her face contorts in humiliation. “Are you serious?” She belts out the words like a punishment.

Gage throws down his cup and dark liquid merges with the concrete.

He takes off in frustration towards the house.

“You are on thin ice,” Chloe seethes. “You have no business talking to Gage in public. You should be on your knees with gratitude that I let you hang onto him by your fingernails.” The moon seals over her complexion with a wash of blue.

“Did you renounce yourself as a Celestra?”

“You can’t register as a Count without it,” she sneers the fact into the wind.

“Then it looks like we’re enemies on all fronts.”

I watch as she heads into the house after Gage. The desperate measure she ensures with each step. She’s in love with him. And God knows there’s nothing more dangerous than a psychopathic killer in love.  

 I need some face time with Emerson, and fast.

Chapter Twenty

I Ain’t Missing You

I sit with my feet dangling in the freezing pool as the party rages all around me. Brielle and Drake are tangled in one another’s limbs over by a maple tree at the far end of the property. An ethereal fog lights up the yard like tissue paper settled on a lamp. The night presses over me with its full weight, caresses my shoulders with its camouflaged stars.

I miss Gage. We’re right here in the same vicinity and we can’t be together, can’t spend time around friends locked in an embrace, or it might cost me everything. In a way, I feel as though I’ve truly lost him to Chloe. It seems impossible for us to ever be together again. What could Emerson possibly know that could untangle me from this disaster?

I pluck myself out of the pool and spring to my feet. If I can’t be with Gage, at least, I can keep an eye on the two of them, fight back those insane thoughts I have of them cuddling in a corner. I push through throngs of bodies. I can’t help but notice the faces that drop their gaze to my stomach, can’t help hear the words,
I think she’s showing, she’s having Dudley’s baby,
repeated like the chorus of the best new song. Chloe’s been efficient with her rumor-mongering, I’ll give her that.

Carly Foster and Carson Armistead, two miserable girls from East, block my path into the house.

“I heard what happened,” Carly sprouts up concern with the voice of a three-year-old. Her long flat-ironed hair smells like it’s burning—complete with crispy-singed edges thick as potato chips.

“Nothing happened. I’m not having a baby.” I badly want to say that Brielle is and turn the attention to where it belongs. Something tells me that would be a little less sensational than Chloe’s perverse lies.

“Carly pulled that crap for months,” Carson’s sharp almond eyes light up like sparks. “So you think of names yet? Like Dudley Junior?” She snorts into her drink. “You know, I was telling my mom about you and she said there’s always one infamous girl who gets knocked up by a teacher—every generation has one.”

“Tag, you’re it!” Carly laughs so hard it pierces my ears with its intensity. I’m sure every dog in a three-mile vicinity is barking its head off.

I push past them into the vast dark space. I hardly recognize the landscape of the Oliver house with the lights turned off. Even the fundamentals look foreign to me in this shadow-covered world.

I search the entire downstairs.

Shit. She’s probably dragged him off to his room for a little one on one time.

I take the first step, and a hand snatches me back by the elbow.

“We need to talk.”

It’s Ellis. His glossy red eyes glow like candles.

“Not now, I’m busy.”

“Can I catch you later?”

“Maybe,” I say, racing up the stairs. There’s only one thing Ellis ever wants from me, and to be honest, I’m sick of supporting his bad habit. A thought comes to me as I watch him sink back into the crowd. That’s right—he went back with Chloe to get his stash refilled, he must have a supervising spirit holding open that treble for him.

I open my mouth to shout over to him, but he’s already disintegrated into the darkness. I’ll have to catch Ellis later, for sure.

Taking the stairs two by two, I jet into the hall. My ears try to process the stale silence. The flickering candlelight of the wall scones lead a path to Gage’s room. An eerie quiet comes from the other side of the door—no light, no nothing. I peer inside. The moon exposes a well-made bed, not a soul in sight.

Maybe they’re back in the yard? I head down the hall and pause at the stairwell just before Logan’s. A thin seam of light calls out from beneath his door.

I don’t hesitate in going over.

***

   I give a gentle knock before cracking the door an inch. I don’t know what I would do if I found Logan in a compromising position with someone. I’d probably freak out—twist both their heads off. I’m rather committed to doing that to him eventually anyway.

He gives a brief smile from the small round table in front of his bed and motions me over with a flick of the finger. He wears thin-framed glasses which make him look older, and oddly, trustworthy—as shallow as that seems. Books surround him like a garrison with large sheets of paper spread out, the fragile markings of a pen strewn all over.

“What’s up?” I ask, taking a seat across from him.

“Just going over facts and figures that I’ve managed to amass,” he pauses to look me over before glancing back down, “regarding the faction war. You remember, that little war we’ve embedded ourselves in? The one we hung our love on?” He doesn’t look up, jots down a note without missing a beat.