Elysian, Page 2

  “Forget about it. I let my balls lead my emotions—it was stupid.”

  “Language.” Marshall clears his throat before sharpening his gaze in my direction. “And where might my thank you be?”

  I head over and lean into his ear. “You, I’m going to thank in private.”

  I don’t mean for it to sound so riddled with desire, but Marshall saved my—wait…

  I pull back in horror.

  “Are we dead?” I startle at the realization—and given where we are, I’d say the odds of an earthly existence are not currently in our favor. I snatch Marshall up by the shoulders. “No man can see the face of God and live, right?”

  “Hold that thought.” Marshall raises a brow. “Why don’t we return to Paragon and see for ourselves.”

  Logan steps forward and wraps an arm around my waist, successfully reeling me away from Marshall.

  “If you don’t mind”—he tucks his chin ever-so-slightly and pulls me in with the weight of those sad amber eyes—“I’d like another few minutes with Skyla.”

  “I’ll gift you less than five.” Marshall snaps his fingers, and my father, Gage, Ellis and the sly Sector himself vanish like smoke.

  “They went back.” A mild sense of both dread and delight fills me.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get you there.” Logan pulls me in as we walk along the greenbelt that follows the river. A thicket of verbena sprays out its lavender tendrils, and a rash of baby’s breath runs along the border. Everything’s so vibrant here, it’s as if the flowers, the expansive emerald lawn, it all cries out in a choir of glory to the Master. “I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted you all to myself for a moment.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” I lean my head against his shoulder. “Are you going to be OK?” My heart thumps once as if my body knows the truth before my mind, my soul, would ever dare acknowledge it. “Swear to…”—I glance back at the throne room—“you know who—if Chloe killed you for good, I’ll feed her to Cerberus myself.”

  “I’m OK.” He offers a circular nod. “Eventually everything will be restored, and all will be right again—sort of.” He lets those last two words trail from his lips uninvited.

  “Sort of.” I sigh. I don’t like the sound of that. I pull him in and graze my lips over his cheek. “When we get back, I’m going to love you something fierce. I already do.” I press my chest into his. “I thought I lost you forever—you and Gage.” I shake my head. Just the thought makes my stomach burn like a stone on fire.

  “You didn’t.” He brushes his lips over my ear, and my body prickles to life with a renewed lust for Logan. “You’ll never truly lose me, Skyla. Do you realize we have an eternity to spend together?” Logan locks his fiery gaze over mine, and an electrical current runs wild through me.

  “You know, back home”—I swallow hard—“on Paragon, I said I would choose between you and Gage.” My voice cracks as I try to push the words out. I don’t know if I can go there—already my heart has splintered over the thought of losing one to gain the other.

  Logan presses his finger to my lips and shakes his head just barely.

  “Things happen.” A dull laugh rattles from his chest. “We happen. Do you believe me, Skyla?”

  “Yes,” I say it without letting a single thought weigh me down. It’s so much easier to give into Logan without Gage and his pleading blue eyes begging for my attention. Although, something in me knows Gage gets everything I’m willing to give in the end.

  “I heard you.” A smile rides up his face, and he buries it in his cheek. “What if I told you the end brought something different?” His brows pitch seductively, and my lips part involuntarily. “What if I told you I was a part of your story in ways you could never imagine?”

  A wellspring of hope floods me. In all truth, I had lost hope for Logan and me.

  “The visions,” I say numbly.

  “Part of the story,” he’s quick to answer. His longitudinal dimple inverts, and the pale blue sky illuminates him like a rare gem—like a marble statue carved by the Master himself. Logan had become a god in the small interim between Paragon and the war.

  The ground bounces beneath me. My body starts in on a mean gyration, giving way to strong involuntary jerks that have the power to launch me straight to the bottom of that river.

  “Is it the Counts?” I hook my grip over Logan. A part of me is terrified I’m being deported to the Tenebrous Woods, and another part of me is very much pissed that I’m leaving in general.

  “You’re going back to Paragon.” His features harden as a look of discouragement sweeps across his face. “Skyla, promise me you’ll get the pendant back from Chloe. Make it priority one—it has to be. And remember, I’ll always love you,” he whispers that last part like a secret. “Can I kiss you?” A smile hedges on his lips, but he won’t give it.

  “Yes.” I almost said no. I almost said not until I decide between you and Gage, but everything feels so final here.

  Logan presses his lips to mine and lingers over me like a dream. Right here, in this magical place, it feels obvious I was made to love Logan for all eternity—his soul and mine fused together as one.

  My lids flutter as I struggle to open my eyes. The scenery has transformed itself.

  I’m back in the woods behind Marshall’s house on the night of his disastrous masquerade charade.

  The forest lights up in a choir of terrified screams.

  Brielle charges at me and rattles me to attention. Her auburn hair waves wild in the breeze reminiscent of Ezrina.

  “What is it?” I ask in a panic.

  “It’s Gage!” She shrills it into my face. “He’s dead.”

  ***

  “Where is he?” I shout as Brielle whisks me through a dizzying crowd of shell-shocked onlookers.

  Marshall’s party has gone to shit faster than my hopes of garnering the sword of the Master. Of course I completely blame my mother. Speaking of which, I believe the lunatic is still on the premises.

  “There was this ax murderer, and there were all these screams. Chloe and Pierce are cut and—” She pulls my hand over and examines it under the dull shadow of night. “Skyla, you’re bleeding.” Brielle glances up at me. Her hair feathers in toward her face, her bright green eyes are wide with horror.

  “I’m fine—I promise. I must have fell in the woods.” I pluck at the sticky tendrils of my dress. It seems to have lost its mythical glow, much like this night. My shoulders feel sore as if someone had plucked the wings right out of my back, and they might have for all I know. I pan the vicinity for Gage as Brielle leads me through the woods and back toward the house. “Where is he?” Something isn’t right. After each region we were deposited right back where we left off, and I distinctly remember Gage and I disintegrating in a mind-numbing kiss. This isn’t looking so good for Gage.

  A panic as wide and deep as the ocean grips me, concerning Logan and Ellis’s fate as well.

  We navigate through the tangle of bodies, each in their formal attire, some with their masks still pressed to their faces.

  Marshall snatches me by the elbow while heading in the opposite direction. The moon glares over him and creates shadowed sutures just under his cheeks.

  “I’m retrieving Mr. Harrison and delivering him to the Transfer,” he gruffs it out a little more hostile than I’m used to. “Decisions will be made this evening regarding his future.” He speeds off into the thick of night hopefully with his Ellis radar well intact.

  An image of Ellis lying in pieces at my feet tattoos itself in my brain.

  Shit.

  I’ll never forgive myself if Ellis isn’t back to his dysfunctional self by midnight.

  A crowd has amassed under a giant eucalyptus, just shy of the corral where a pack of long-necked llamas look on.

  “Skyla!” Mom intercepts me, clutching at baby Beau as if both their lives were in peril. They’re not, but it’s going to take a lot of heavy explaining for me to relay that so I don’t bother. “I�
��m taking the girls and going home.” Her eyes round out in horror as she takes me in. “God, you’re hurt!”

  “I’m fine. I need to find Logan and Gage.” I dart past her. Tears blur my vision as I struggle to keep up with Brielle. Dear God, what about Logan? A primal scream begs to rip from my lungs as the entire world spins out of control.

  I plow my way through layers of people with bodies rubbing up against me, shoes treading over mine. The slight scent of blood and fear fills my nostrils, and suddenly it feels as if I were right back in that damn war.

  “He’s this way,” a rather calm voice emits from the house.

  “It’s you,” I say, accusingly—Candace Messenger, the angel of my discontent. “Fix this mess!” I demand. “Put Ellis back together like a jigsaw puzzle and heal Gage.” That last part comes out far more child-like than anticipated.

  “I did fix this.” Her eyes expand as if she’s taken aback at the balls I have to speak to her this way. “I left blood on your hands, so the simpletons of this island can surmise what they will—not to mention Emma already has her suspicions about you.” She draws a bleak smile as if that last jab directed at Emma was more sarcastic than it was factual.

  “You left me looking like the murderer?”

  “Yes, Skyla. One good psychotic episode can explain it all.”

  An entire alphabet of curses gets lodged in my throat. “I don’t want to be blamed for a psychotic episode! You’re a psychotic episode!” Soon my entire life will be summed up as a psychotic episode.

  “You’ll regret speaking to me that way.” She turns toward the ebony curtain of night and heads toward the woods.

  “Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you,” I say it sharp and clear, leaving her without excuse. “Fix Ellis, Logan, and Gage. I fought your damn war, now you fight mine.”

  My mother turns around, burning with anger—the promise of an execution fresh in her eyes. Her face is a perfect resemblance to mine, such a close second it feels as though I’m arguing with a mirror. If ever I wanted to kick my own ass, here it is—my golden moment.

  “You should kiss the ground I walk on for the things I’ve done for you.” Her jawline redefines itself in anger. “And, by the way, that was your damn war, Skyla. Don’t you forget it.”

  A loud clap of thunder trembles over Paragon, and she’s gone, just like that.

  Then a beautiful sight emerges. Logan. He shines as bright as the moon as he stoops low to the ground with Emma and Barron next to him. A swell of relief swims through me. Logan looks every bit alive with his head most assuredly attached. He glances up, and the impression of a depleted smile twitches on his lips.

  The three of them huddle over a familiar broad chest.

  Shit.

  “Gage?” I scream, pushing Brielle out of the way as I dig through the crowd.

  Dr. Oliver looks up at me pissed to hell. His eyes steady over mine as though he were confronting a felon. Emma has her head bent into his chest, sobbing into him as she pours out all her grief.

  “No, no, no.” It streams from my lips as a new level of panic flies through me.

  There he is—my sweet angel with his eyes closed peacefully. He looks as though he’s sleeping. His raven-colored hair lays in heavy contrast to his pale skin. A crimson scarf lies tucked beneath his neck, and it takes a moment for it to register it’s a bloody T-shirt Barron holds tight while trying to stave off the bleeding.

  I drop to my knees, weak, afraid of what this might mean.

  Logan slips his warm hand behind my neck and pulls me in.

  “He’s breathing.” He looks into my eyes so intently it takes all of my strength to break the spell.

  “Gage.” I bend over until my face touches his. He can’t die—he can’t. “Wake up.” I shake him by the shoulder, but he doesn’t move. His eyes remain sealed as if he’s closed them for the very last time. An ambulance saws its way over with its high-pitched wail drilling through the night. “Wake up!” I shrill it into his ear, and his eyes flutter.

  “Enough,” Emma roars. “You have caused far too much drama for this family already, young lady.” She slits the words through her teeth, and the crowd gasps.

  “Emma,” Barron says it low, without conviction.

  “No, she’s right.” I swallow hard, picking up Gage’s cold, limp fingers. “Chloe did this,” I whisper, trying to defuse the blame, but I know where it really lies. In the end, it was me he was trying to protect.

  “It was you he went to war for,” Emma gravels as if she were belting out a metal song. I look up and take her in, wild-eyed, the sting of heartbreak etched in her face. Emma looks as if she could gut me with her fingernails if I so much as breathe in her son’s direction. “And now you’ve all but killed him.”

  A group of EMTs storm the area and descend in our direction.

  “Skyla, it’s best if you give us some space.” Barron takes in a breath. His chest expands as if he might tackle me on his wife’s behalf. “I agree. This is where we draw the line. It’s enough.”

  “Enough for you.” Logan growls in his brother’s face. “Gage did what he wanted. Nobody held a gun to his head. He fought that war for Skyla because he loves her. That boy would die for her.”

  “And now he just might,” Emma hisses with rage as saliva glosses her lips.

  A barrage of medical equipment rolls in and I’m swept back. A group of men in uniform check Gage for his vitals while asking Emma and Barron an entire slew of questions.

  I glance over my shoulder to find Chloe and Nat receiving medical attention—their sutures being tended to by medics with an overzealous lust for their new patients. Chloe holds out her scrapes and bruises, showing them off like prizes she worked hours to attain. She looks over at me and gives a black smile. Chloe is all games—murdering people like it’s a side hobby. She knows what she did to both Logan and Gage, and yet she has the balls to look at me—to gloat.

  Demetri Edinger shows up on the scene like some demonic dark knight, ready to pretend to save the day. He gives a shrill whistle, and the crowd startles to attention.

  “Remain calm.” He spins in a half-circle, his long black trench coat drips like a dress. “If you’re injured and in need of medical attention, please stay put. There are more ambulances on the way. Emergency medical workers are on the premises to assist those who require treatment.” He narrows his steely gaze on me. “Or in the event you need a shoulder to lean on. I’m always here for you.”

  A breath gets caught in my throat. Demetri I-Killed-Your-Father Edinger just might have bigger balls than Chloe Bishop, and here I thought that was impossible.

  It’s becoming clear he sees a Celestra victory in the cards, and it has him shaking in his cloven-hooved boots. Demetri wants to be a shoulder to cry on for all of Paragon, especially me. I’ll give him something to cry about, both him and Chloe.

  Gage is whisked onto a gurney, and I’m quick to follow.

  “I’ll go with him,” I say, racing alongside the medics toward the front of the property.

  “Are you family?” asks a dark-haired EMT, holding an oxygen mask to Gage’s face.

  Emma pushes me back just as they begin carefully loading him into the gaping mouth of the ambulance.

  “No—she most certainly is not family.” She climbs into the back of the truck without waiting for an invitation.

  “Gage,” his name wails from me as I snatch at his fingers. They slide him in and shut the doors with a pronounced finality. I spot Barron getting into his sedan and rush over. “Wait!”

  “Skyla.” Logan hooks me in by the waist, stopping me from jumping into the passenger seat.

  “Barron, I can fix this!” I shout. “I’ll give him my blood.”

  A few stray people turn in my direction. For the most part, all of Paragon is draining from Marshall’s estate.

  Barron stops shy of getting into his sedan and speeds his way over.

  “No, Skyla, you can’t.” It comes out more than a little cur
t. A knife couldn’t have hurt less. “Gage gave strict orders should something like this occur, he’s to receive nothing from you.” He crimps his lips. “Emma and I are opposed to it as well.” His features remain hard as flint. I’ve never seen Dr. Oliver so ticked off before—for sure not at me. “Gage will come through this on his own. And when he does, we’re going to have a serious discussion about the safety of your relationship. These past few months have shaved years off Emma’s life. This madness has got to stop before somebody ends up dead.” Barron spears Logan with a look before reverting his pissed off aggression back at me. “I would tell you to proceed with caution, but we both know what good that would do.” He stomps off to his car and backs out in haste, nearly mowing down a group of people from East.

  An eerie clown’s head bobbles from his rearview mirror, mocking me as Barron speeds the hell off of Marshall’s property.

  “Shit.” I bury my face in Logan’s chest.

  “It’s OK.” He blesses the top of my head with a kiss.

  “Logan, what happened?” I pull back and examine him as the moonlight washes out his features. I run my fingers over his neck, and it’s unscathed, unharmed in every way. “Are you all right?” He looks remarkable, save for the blood on his hands, and I’m assuming that belongs to Gage.

  “I’m fine. I was taking the baby back to Brielle, and the next thing I knew Gage was stumbling in front of me.”

  “Something’s off.” I shake my head. “I have my cuts, Chloe and Nat—Gage and Ellis…” I’m afraid to go there—afraid I’ll jinx the entire situation and Logan’s head will fall off, right here in the driveway.

  Logan gives a slow blink. His chest expands as he fills his lungs with a never-ending breath.

  “I found Ellis,” he whispers, pulling me in. “I hid him under some brush until I could get Dudley.”

  “Marshall said he was taking him to the Transfer.”

  “God, Skyla.” He holds me so tight it’s hard to breathe. “Let’s get to the hospital.” He plucks his keys out of his pocket, and his truck chirps to life. “We’re going to get Gage back on his feet whether my brother likes it or not.” He pulls his lips over the side of my cheek, slow, filled with a resolute sadness. “Everything is going to be all right.”