Expel

  expel

  Celestra Series Book 6

  Addison Moore

  http://addisonmoorewrites.blogspot.com/

  Other books by Addison Moore

  Ethereal (Celestra Series Book 1)

  Tremble (Celestra Series Book 2)

  Burn (Celestra Series Book 3)

  Wicked (Celestra Series Book 4)

  Vex (Celestra Series Book 5)

  Copyright © 2012 by Addison Moore

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1—Death Throes

  Chapter 2—Unimaginable Sorrow

  Chapter 3—Appeal

  Chapter 4—Time After Time

  Chapter 5—True Love’s Kiss

  Chapter 6—Love Song

  Chapter 7—Family Time

  Chapter 8—Arrive Alive

  Chapter 9—Just One Taste

  Chapter 10—Never

  Chapter 11—Sweet Release

  Chapter 12—Home Sweet Home

  Chapter 13—Put Your Hands on Me

  Chapter 14—The Marriage Mirage

  Chapter 15—Affair in the Air

  Chapter 16—Down in Flames

  Chapter 17—Strike Three

  Chapter 18—Right Here, Right Now

  Chapter 19—Love Hurts

  Chapter 20—Logan

  Chapter 21—Only You

  Chapter 22—Church on Time

  Chapter 23—Out of My Head

  Chapter 24—Forever

  Chapter 25—The Psycho and Me

  Chapter 26—Hells Bells

  Chapter 27—Smooth Operator

  Chapter 28—Mirror, Mirror

  Chapter 29—Time of our Lives

  Chapter 30—The List

  Chapter 31—Full Disclosure

  Chapter 32—The Heart of the Matter

  Chapter 33—Heartbreak

  Chapter 34—Sit a Spell

  Chapter 35—Marshall Arts

  Chapter 36—The Bitch is Back

  Chapter 37—The Boss of You

  Chapter 38—Dance of the Butterfly

  Chapter 39—The Good Girlfriend

  Chapter 40—Dinner with the Enemy

  Chapter 41—Missing you

  Chapter 42—The Deal

  Chapter 43—I Ain’t Missing You at All

  Chapter 44—Hot Water

  Chapter 45—The Letter

  Chapter 46—Sing the Blues

  Chapter 47—Table Talk

  Chapter 48—Dance the Night Away

  Chapter 49—Whiplash Love

  Chapter 50—Bay of Pigs

  Chapter 51—Get It on Like That

  Chapter 52—Deus Ex Machina

  Chapter 53—I Do?

  Chapter 54—Body Snatcher

  Chapter 55—Master Disaster

  Chapter 56—Love Shack

  Chapter 57—Like A Lover’s Voice

  Chapter 58—War Drums

  Chapter 59—Trip the Lights Fantastic

  Chapter 60—Home visit

  Chapter 61—Mommy Dearest

  Chapter 62—Call to Arms

  Chapter 63—Face of an Angel

  Chapter 64—Treasures and Trinkets

  Chapter 65—Silver and God

  Chapter 66—Evil Incarnate

  Chapter 67—It’s Raining Caskets

  Chapter 68—Pink and Blue

  Chapter 69—Man in the Mirror

  Chapter 70—Vision Division

  Chapter 71—Power Surge

  Chapter 72—Oblivion Express

  Chapter 73—Torment in the Transfer

  Chapter 74—White Wedding

  Chapter 75—The Visit

  Chapter 76—Icing on the Cake

  Chapter 77—The Break Up

  Chapter 78—Fake Love to Me

  Chapter 79—Secret Love

  Chapter 80—Dress You Up in My Love

  Chapter 81—Promenade

  Chapter 82—Promtastic

  Chapter 83—Light Drive

  Chapter 84—Confusion is Nothing New

  Chapter 85—Safety Dance

  Chapter 86—If You Don’t Know Me By Now

  Chapter 87—Fallen Angel

  Chapter 88—Body Language

  Chapter 89—Eye Hate You

  Chapter 90—Borrowed Time

  Chapter 91—Know the Enemy

  Preface

  Suffering is the nature of this world. It is the golden standard by which all things are measured. It is not happiness that sets the bar, but agony. Even happiness cannot be fully recognized without the right measure of misery to contrast its borders. Suffering magnifies hunger—exhaustion—prods you to move when prosperity is just a dream out of reach. It is the mortal twin of eternal hope. How you respond to its touch molds you, shapes your future as it rains down oppression like fire over your shoulders.

  Deception. It laid over my world like a bruise, covered it so completely I bought the lie that the shadow offered and found comfort nestled in its thorny arms. I walked the trail it dusted with breadcrumbs, walked into the slip noose it had skillfully wove and dove off the cliff without realizing—willingly, with vigor.

  Heartbreak. There is no bigger void, no darker shade of soot—no ache more

  unstoppable than that of a broken heart.

  A heart in pieces can very much kill you—without love’s healing touch, you will

  surely die.

  They say time heals all wounds.

  They lied.

  Chapter 1

  Death Throes

  Rain falls like tears from heaven over the dirt lot behind the bowling alley.

  Logan lies to my right with his eyes wide open, gaping up at the sky pouring down its wrath like it didn’t even matter—Gage to my left with a blood-soaked shirt, same dead stare, no affect, no response. I crawl up on my knees and pull both their hands into my chest. I can’t lose Logan and Gage—it’s unimaginable—unacceptable. I look back down at the pink wash on my arms. Blood—my Celestra blood.

  “Oh, God.” I pat the ground for an errant piece of glass. Without hesitating I pick up a shard, give one clean slice clear up to my elbow and run the crimson seam along Gage’s perfect lips. Before I can offer my lifeblood to Logan a voice calls from the outline of darkness, just shy of the forest.

  “Skyla!”

  I look back and see a familiar frame, the glint of blonde hair. It’s Logan.

  “Help me,” I plead.

  He speeds over and falls on his knees beside me.

  “Skyla, you have to come with me,” there’s an urgency in Logan’s voice I haven’t heard before. He’s wearing the same clothes from tonight. This is where he came while I was at the dance. He knew.

  A series of screams erupt as the bowling alley begins to drain. Cries of, oh my God and call 911 fill the field.

  Logan yanks me up. I falter on my feet as he pulls me into the forest.

  “Let go!” I try to head back, but he cages me in with his arms. “Nev!” I cry out for Nevermore.

  “You have to trust me, Skyla. Everything depends on this moment.”

  “I can’t leave! You’re both dying.”

  “Death does come,” Logan anchors me with a dark expression. “You’ll be signing both our death certificates if you don’t come now—you might be anyway.”

  “Just do it!” A female voice bleats out from behind. I catch a glimpse of her—it’s like looking in a mirror—it’s me.

  “I have to help him. He’s going to die.” I look back
at Gage lying in the mud—blood pooling around his body, glossy as tar.

  “He does die,” she shouts.

  The ground trembles. An army of overgrown wolves with tails as long as leashes race into the dirt lot at bionic speeds. Green eyes that glow like lanterns light up the field. They awaken the forest with their menacing growls.

  A series of unearthly screams erupt as the crowd from the bowling alley disperses.

  “What’s happening?” I trip over a branch, backing away from the scene. “Nev!” I cry out for Nevermore again, but he doesn’t come.

  Sirens cut through in the distance.

  “We need to go.” Logan hooks me in tight by the waist. “We need to leave right now.” He grabs a hold of the girl behind him.

  “We can’t change anything in the past,” I roar the words into his face, struggling to break free.

  “Skyla,” Logan pulls his lips along my neck—lines a fire of passion with his hot breath up to my ear, “we’re not going to the past.”

  I look over at the carnage as a group of wild beasts circle the two of them. A growling lone wolf pounces onto Gage, causing blood to spurt out of his mouth three feet high.

  “Gage,” I scream, as the world begins to fade.

  “Gage is staring death in the face, Skyla,” Logan whispers. “And in a moment—you will, too.”

  ***

  There is no greater hope than that of life and life unstoppable. It is death, in all of its inordinate timing that afflicts our world, turns it into a ticking bomb ready to rock our existence whenever it feels the need. It shatters through me. All of my bones reduce to broken shards, cut me from the inside as we sail through the watery depths of time.

  I have never moved forward, never seen what the twisted hands of fate have waiting for me outside the visions Marshall has imparted, the few I’ve had of my own, vague as they were. This is a venue I’ve yet to experience. Although my pedigree allows for such maneuvers, it would be impossible for me to partake without the supervising spirit Logan procured. His wanderlust, his self-proclaimed ideology of our love projected him into the future to do God knows what. Whatever it is, whatever waits for me on the other side of this curtain of darkness, I’m not sure I’m ready to see it, face it, accept it as gospel.

  When traveling to the past you can rest assured you will always find a concrete truth, some stamp of reality that you can depend on, recognize. But it’s the comfort of knowing our lives have long since moved on that you can wrap around, secure as a blanket. You may not like where you’ve landed, but you have the assurance you’ve made it past the event because that juncture in time has already seen and dismissed you. Even if the residue of your actions color your present, you need not fear where you’ve already been.

  We race through a tunnel of darkness. Strong oppressive winds howl over us. A pinhole of light emerges in the distance as we speed towards its illumination, pulling us into its safe haven like gliding along a polished stone.

  “Skyla,” Logan breathes directly into my ear, wraps his arms around me like a very tight coil. “I love you.”

  I nod into him. Touch my palm to his beautiful face and try to break a smile, fighting tears that want to destroy the moment.

  I don’t know why I came, what good I could possibly do, while both he and Gage lie in the mud back at the bowling alley, exasperating themselves as they cling to life. That’s where I need to be. Coming here was a misstep, the highest form of neglect, and now there is no undoing it.

  “I need to get back,” I lament.

  He shakes his head, presses out a smile that blooms from grief.

  “Tell her what to do!” The old me rattles Logan by the shirt in a panic.

  “She’ll know,” Logan doesn’t take his eyes off me.

  His features soften, nothing but his love for me radiating from within. He touches the side of my face soft as feathers, brushes back my hair as the light expands around us, bright as sunshine, if you were standing on the surface of that great and resolute star.

  His smile grows, his eyes tell me he’s always loved me, always will. He leans in and grazes his lips over mine. Logan is alive under the guise of our love. It pulsates through his veins buoyant and hopeful.

  He delivers a kiss that spans the markers of time, sends a pleasure filled quiver through me that annunciates the fact my feelings for him live, that my affection for him trembles inside me like a coward, afraid to own it, touch it, feel it.

  A light so terribly brilliant envelops the three of us, dissolves us in its silent blaze. My eyes begin to adjust to the surroundings as I squint my way into this new reality. There’s something vaguely familiar about the bleached floors, the glossy white walls, the patina of blue that drapes the vicinity.

  “Skyla,” Logan’s voice is forced, tunnel-like with the distinct tail end of an echo.

  I turn to find him ashen, vaporizing.

  “Logan!” I snatch at his arms, swat at his person—swipe right through him as though he were less than air. “What’s happening?”

  “Skyla,” he points up behind me. “I love you.” His voice trails in a whisper—his body evaporates into an anemic blue fog.

  “Logan?” I spin around in a panic.

  A wall of glass tubes fills the expanse—bodies suspended in a sterile blue liquid stretch out for miles. I recognize this place fully—the Transfer.

  “Where are we?” The old me asks, her voice giving away the fact she’s visibly shaken.

  I don’t answer—don’t move, forget to exhale. I just stare up at the all too familiar face of a beautiful boy floating in his deathly slumber.

  It’s my sweet friend, my love—Logan.

  Chapter 2

  Unimaginable Sorrow

  In all honesty, I thought the primal scream that ejaculated from my vocal cords had the capability to shatter every glass coffin in the facility. In all honesty, I was trying to wake myself from this horrible nightmare, and I couldn’t even do that to the doppelganger with me, who actually is, physically someplace sleeping.

  I fall to my knees and take him in. Logan—my Logan, slumbering in his watery grave. I press my hand against the cool of the glass, feel the sting against my flesh. If only the glass, the keeping solution, were the only barriers that separated Logan and me, but I know the chasm runs deeper, that it’s far more complex than any physical barrier.

  So this is why Logan brought me down here, why he swept me away to the future, to pull him out of the Transfer, arrange a resurrection, land him on the planet one more time.

  “You have to help him.” Sleeping Skyla kneels beside me, rubs my shoulder as I press my face into my palms and sob for the boy I love. Everything in me aches to have him back, to speak to him as I explode with grief on a cellular level. Such an unending sorrow—and for what? His mortality nothing more than a casualty of Marshall’s quick-handed punishment. And, God—what about Gage?

  “What happened to Gage?” I snap at the startled version of myself.

  “Who’s Gage?” She looks genuinely perplexed.

  I jump to my feet and take Logan in. Locked in a wet suit, his body entombed in the thick cobalt liquid.

  “The other boy with dark hair. He was lying on the ground.” I take a breath, looking across at myself. It makes me dizzy. My head fills with a strange sensation as though I have the power to knock myself out just by speaking with my twin from another dimension. “I thought you said he was dead?” I rattle her by the shoulders. “But you meant Logan,” I whisper. “Dear God what if Gage is, too?”

  She looks around the floor for a body.

  “Not here,” I squeeze my eyes shut with frustration, “back in the lot.” A part of me wants to slap her a few good times—set her straight on everything she’ll ever need to know, but Logan was right, I never remember my freaking dreams.

  “I didn’t see him.” She cowers as if I were about to unleash a combative strike. “Logan’s gone,” her voice breaks. She leans into him, lays her face into the glass
as silent tears roll down her cheek.

  “Oh my, God, you love him,” I whisper.

  Of course, I love him. I felt such a strong connection with Logan when we first met, and now I know why. All those indescribable yearnings defused my feelings for Gage by default. It makes perfect sense. Logan is a minefield of deception. It’s like he orchestrated our meeting from the beginning. But I could never really blame him when I feel so strongly in return. There are no accidents in my life, no coincidences, no blind love at first sight. Logan has been haunting my dreams, chiseling out neuro pathways into my brain by way of his extraterrestrial beauty long before I set foot on Paragon.

  “I’ll always love him,” her fingers strum over the tube creating a haunting rhythm. “I’m going to be with him forever.”

  “You’re going to be with Gage,” I correct. No sense in stringing along delusions.

  “No, I’m not.” Her eyes spring wide with defiance. “I’m not going to be with this Gage person. I’m going to be with Logan. I’m going to be Mrs. Logan Oliver,” she knifes the words through the air to prove her point.

  All that attitude—the posturing, the I’ll-cut-you velocity in which she determines her speech, I remind myself a lot of Mia.

  “He’s been brainwashing you,” I say lackluster because I know its not true. I know she believes it with all her heart because deep inside I do, too. “You’ll love Gage, not straight away, but he’s amazing.” I wipe the tears off my face, taste the salty brine reserved just for Logan. “Come on,” I take her by the hand and speed us towards the exit.

  “So, like, are we stuck here?”

  Shit! I hadn’t even considered that horrific scenario.

  “I don’t know.” I look around in hopes of spotting an ever-evaporating Logan—even in his partially dissolved state I’d take him, breathe him in, swallow him down just to have him with me. “Marshall?” I listen to my voice echo through the chamber in triplicate, with no answer. “Who’s Logan’s supervising spirit?” I cut into her with an unmerciful stare. She’s my only hope in figuring out who or what that might be, and, unfortunately, I’m pretty sure she’s clueless.