Toxic Part Two Page 5

  “I’ll win the war and my mother will revert your sentence.” My voice trembles as I try to convince myself that there’s a way out of this.

  Logan materializes into the room from nowhere. He looks exhausted, disoriented.

  “Skyla, no.” He comes to me, pulls me back by the waist. “Whatever you planned, don’t do it.”

  “It is finished.” Ezrina turns and starts in on a slow-building cackle.

  Logan backs me out of the room with his eyes glued to her vibrating frame, the future home of my soul, if we’re not careful—if my mother makes the wrong judgment.

  Ezrina hurls a bottle in our direction and it explodes midair before ever reaching us.

  “Get out!” She screams—her voice echoes and expands, destructive as a mushroom cloud. Vials explode one after the other like a symphony, the windows shatter, and the walls begin to crumble.

  Logan takes me by the hand as the Transfer melts around us, detonating under the wrath of Ezrina’s self-imposed apocalypse.

  ***

  Paragon blooms with a fog so thick it makes reality feel like a fairytale.

  “What were you thinking?” Logan pulls me out of the line of fire from the thrashing waves at the base of Devil’s Peak. We employed our former knowledge of running and crashing into a wall of granite to land us back into reality. I’d like to smack the celestial being who dreamed that up as a logical porthole to the real world. Marshall blinks through my mind and I shake the thought away.

  Paragon hums and whistles around us, denying all of the paranormal charges against it while wrapped in its evening splendor.

  “What were you thinking?” I shake him by the shoulders.

  He rounds his gaze over me heavy with concern and affection. “I was thinking of you and how much I love you—how I would rather die than watch you suffer.” He loses himself, staring out into the dark churning sea. “You should have left me alone, Skyla. I’m afraid to ask what you did to get me out of there.”

  “I know what you did,” I whisper. “You agreed to let Nev have your body if they’re sentenced again.”

  “And you?” He gives a stern look. “Does Ezrina get to play the part of Skyla if things don’t go as planned?”

  I don’t say anything.

  He shakes his head with a placid smile. “Looks like I’ve managed to fuck everything up again. You should run like hell the next time you see me coming. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me.”

  The moon casts a glow over his perfectly formed features. The hint of a five o’clock shadow dusts his face and accentuates his godlike glory.

  “We’re going to win the faction war.” I try to jostle him back to reality. “If my mother cares about me at all, about the injustice of the Counts, and what Ezrina tried to so heroically accomplish, she’ll revert their judgment. There is no way in hell my mother would have even considered a new trial if there wasn’t a chance she might issue another ruling.”

  “Skyla.” He closes his eyes and pulls me in. His warm body presses against mine, and I fold into arms. “We’re living on less than a prayer.”

  “We’re living on hope.” I run my hands up over his back to soothe him. Deep down inside, I realize we could win this war and still lose it all.

  I need to find my mother.

  It’s her I need to strike a deal with—but something in me already knows the odds are far from in my favor.

  Chapter 62

  Principality

  Nicholas Haver’s house, sits at the distal end of the Paragon Estates. It’s sheltered behind an entire row of Italian cypress trees, each their own stalwart powerhouse of intimidation.

  A tar-covered sky blankets the island with intermittent breaks in the clouds that illuminate a dull lavender glow from the other side. My breath plumes out in dense milky sprays as I hurry down the path to the barn-like structure. Logan offered to stick around and give me a ride home, but I told him I’d catch one with Gage. He’s beyond exhausted. Ironically, prancing around in the playground of his dreams is the equivalent of running back-to-back marathons—not that Logan is welcome at these meetings anymore, thanks to Holden’s killing spree.

  The overgrown shed in the back of the Havar’s property is lit up with a warm peachy glow. A low rumble emits from inside, followed by periodic spurts of silence.

  I’m late. I’ll be lucky if I haven’t missed the entire damn show.

  I make my way to the entrance and peer in to see where Gage might be seated before creating a spectacle of myself.

  A tall man with an otherworldly glow looks in my direction as if he didn’t need to see my person to know it was me lurking in the doorway. He’s seated next to Nicholas Haver himself and faces the sea of onlookers who traveled from near and far to hear his words of celestial-inspired wisdom.

  “Glad you could fit this into your schedule,” he calls. His voice booms unnaturally across the cavernous room and barrels past me out the exit. I recognize him from the war, Delphinius, same clown who told Marshall we’d marry.

  All eyes turn toward the door. They struggle to see me until I take a few shy steps into the facility and reveal myself as none other than Skyla-I-Love-Losing-the-War Messenger.

  “Are you waiting for direction?” Nicholas Haver, a heavyset man with a triple chin and constant dribble of sweat running down his temples, fans me in with haste.

  I take a seat up front next to Dr. Booth. I have no clue where Gage is and I’m too chicken shit to further scope out the establishment. Dr. Booth gives a paternal tap to my knee and straightens as if he weren’t at all ashamed to be associated with me.

  “We have a principality gracing us with his presence, Skyla,” Nicholas says it extra slow, like I might need an interpreter to understand the basic semantics of the English language. “He’s going to give you direction and strategies on how to fight the remainder of the war. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.” I pull my chin up, trying not to look like the frightened schoolgirl I really am.

  Dr. Booth offers me an appreciative smile. He’s wearing his signature wire-rimmed glasses, a sweater with a dress shirt underneath and gold-notched tie. He bleeds a peaceful expression that suggests everything is going to be all right, and it makes me want to hug him until this entire nightmare dissolves to nothing because I happen to know the truth. Nothing will ever be all right again.

  “Skyla.” Delphinius rattles the room with his ethereal vocals. “Five regions have been lost.” He tilts his elongated head to the side. His silver hair, his barely-there eyes refract the light like a prism. His skin looks a sickly pale grey, but he’s muscular and in every other way, fit and healthy. “Seven regions remain. Do you realize the importance of navigating the rest of this journey?”

  “I do.” I answer loud and succinct for no other reason than the fact I don’t want to sound like a coward. Being a failure is bad enough. “I need direction. Why do you keep calling them regions if I end up in what appears to be the same place over and over? And, it’s too difficult to see the enemy. Why aren’t they blue? I think they should be blue.”

  A hush falls over the room, then a gentle roll of laughter as though what I had just suggested was for comic relief rather than strategy. I look over my shoulder and spot Gage in the back, Dr. Oliver and Emma on either side like bookends. He nods over to me with a warm smile. I can practically feel him telling me to be strong.

  “The weaponry is always hidden within reach of your person upon arrival,” Delphinius booms. “The delineation of Counts verses those who fight for Celestra is up to the Decision Council—as are all things.” He leers with the curve of a knowing smile. “Now, listen carefully. I’m going to tell you exactly what you need to do to conquer the next region.”

  The room flexes and bends, the oxygen depletes before he can utter another word. An arid darkness invades the space and pulls me down through the chair, inhales me right into region six of the faction war.

  ***

  A sodden field appears. I
’m seated in a half foot of mud, caked and dirty. Rain falls from the sky, stabbing the smoky hillside with its fury.

  “Why?” I scream it out until every cell in me trembles from the effort. Clearly, my mother does not understand the finer points of strategy. Clearly, she doesn’t care whether or not we prosper in this screwed-up endeavor because if she did, she would have waited another ten seconds and let the orator spill the coveted details on how to actually win a region for a fucking change.

  “Skyla!” Gage runs up from behind.

  “He said the weapons were hidden close to where we land,” I shout up over the storm. Sporadic areas of burnt brush litter the landscape—at least ten bushels within reach. “It could be anywhere.”

  Trust only your heart, my mother’s strange words come back to me at this odd hour, and strangely enough, right about now, my heart is saying, “Don’t trust your mother.”

  “Trust my heart,” I whisper, making my way to the bush straight ahead. “Look,” I shout with laughter. A waterproof backpack with a slick neoprene skin sits tucked in the middle. I reach in and excavate it—six oversized handguns sit inside along with an entire cache of cylinders filled with darts.

  “What the hell is this?” Gage takes it from me and inspects the swollen belly of the bag as the rain lets up.

  “I think I know.” I pull one out and turn the barrel for inspection. An explosive clap goes off, and a sharp breeze eclipses the hair just shy of my eyes.

  “Geez!” Gage shoves the gun in a downward position. “Never, ever, look down the barrel of a gun.” He pulls me in and gives an aggressive kiss of relief over the top of my head. “Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, cinching the backpack over my shoulders. “These things shoot some kind of poison darts.” Logan gave me one in region four and I knocked out a crowd to save Copper and Flynn. But these look far more menacing, and I’m hoping they’re a little more potent in nature. “It’s not permanent, though. It won’t kill them.”

  “Never seen anything like it,” he says, holding it out and aiming at a pin of light coming from the forest.

  “Bastardized Ruger.” I give a brief smile. “Wesley, the boy the Counts sicked on me, he came to me in a dream—told me about these.” I stop short of telling Gage I shot him up with one in my nocturnal wandering, that it felt good to do it.

  A strange glow emits from the thicket to our left.

  I pull Gage behind an overgrown shrub and we watch as a dull illumination emerges from the tree line. Three men with shoulders as wide as a house, trek out.

  “They’re blue.” The words tumble from my lips with the beginnings of laughter. “She heard me.” I grab a hold of Gage and shake him with elation. My mother heard, and the enemy glows like an electrified blueberry. “Thank you.” I mouth the words up to the sky.

  They look guarded as they make their way out into the clearing.

  “If I saw ten in a foxhole, I’d kill them all,” says the one in the middle. He’s balding, wears a spare tire around his waist, and I fire into his chest without hesitating for suggesting such a slaughter.

  Gage and I hit all three and watch as they buck and seize, dropping to the ground in an unexpected paralysis.

  “Let’s go.” I pant, heading over and stripping them of their weaponry as they lay unconscious. Two bows, one sawed-off shotgun. And here I was thinking my mother hated guns.

  The sky crackles and churns as lighting flares overhead, followed by a low growl of thunder that never quite ceases.

  Gage and I take off into the thicket and set out in search of Delphinius.

  “There he is.” Gage takes my hand and runs us toward the bottom of the hill, where the orator flags us down.

  I keep an eye out for Cooper and Flynn—for Logan, who pretends to run with the enemy. The rain lets up, soft as feathers, then brews to something more sinister that assures me my mother is in charge of the faucet controls.

  A dark-haired girl runs from the bushes with two glowing figures in tow and gets to him first. It’s Chloe.

  “Shit.” Gage pulls me faster as we slip our way down the hillside.

  Chloe, Nat and Pierce take off toward a ravine.

  “What the hell?” Gage shouts into the orator as we hit the bottom of the incline.

  Delphinius offers a disparaging look. Something tells me Chloe has yet again found a new way to screw us.

  “There’s a gully in the valley.” His voice overcomes the thunder without trying. “You must cross to the adjacent hillside—”

  Gage pulls me to a running start before Delphinius can complete the thought.

  “On dry land,” the orator screams through the needling rain. “Dry land!”

  How the hell are we going to find dry land in the middle of a downpour?

  Gage intensifies our speed until I can’t keep up with him, until I lose my grip altogether.

  “I don’t have my powers,” I shout as he barrels on ahead. Apparently, neither does he or we would’ve long since transported. I tumble to the ground and my arm enlivens with pain as I snag half my body against a bed of jagged rocks. A long line of crimson extends from my elbow to my wrist.

  “Run, Gage,” I shout. “Win this damn thing.”

  The rainfall stifles the sound of my voice as Gage continues past the ravine, past the two blue orbs bobbing next to Chloe and the world lights up, bright as the sun before washing out, blank as a virginal canvas.

  ***

  I take in a sharp breath of air that holds the scent of strong coffee, fresh-baked cookies and cheap perfume. I’m right back in Nicholas Haver’s gargantuan garage, alive and well—and surprisingly dry.

  Gage rushes over and kisses me right in front of the entire assembly as if it were a matrimonial proclamation.

  “Did we win?” I can barely get the words out.

  “Skyla, you’re cut.” Dr. Booth takes up my arm and examines it.

  “It’s just a scratch.” A giant welt pillows over the length of my arm and blood drips to my fingertips.

  The room bursts into a loud murmur until the blast of a gavel emits from the front.

  “Silence!” Nicholas Haver’s face turns a brilliant shade of plum.

  I pull Gage down into the seat next to me.

  “Region six has been recorded in the annals of the book of war.” Mr. Haver’s voice swirls around the room like an angry tornado.

  The orator nods in my general direction. “It has been determined that the victory lies with Countenance.”

  A loud gasp circles the room before breaking out into a chaotic roar.

  “It was impossible to get to dry ground,” I say to Gage. It’s not his fault the Counts are quicker and obviously better at securing every single region. Quicker and better and soon they’ll rule everything.

  “I did get to dry ground.” He gives a causal shrug like he gave it his best but it was no big deal. “Could have sworn I crossed the ravine first.”

  I hate this. Just the thought of losing another region ignites a revolting image of the Counts wielding the sword of the Master. God—that better not happen.

  “Was anyone else there with you?” Dr. Booth interjects. “Maybe they were farther down and you couldn’t see them?”

  “Ellis Harrison.” Gage pegs him with a sharp tone. “He must have taken the region for the Counts.”

  I blink back surprise. I’m shocked Gage would be so quick to accuse Ellis of all people.

  Dr. Booth leans in. “It was either Ellis—or you—who gave the Counts a win.” He gives a dry laugh at the thought. “I think we can use deductive logic and figure this one out.”

  I swallow hard at the thought and slide down in my chair.

  Can we?

  My entire body explodes in a ball of heat.

  “Looks like we’ve got a rogue Count on our hands,” Gage says, needling me with a strange intensity as the twinge of smile plays on his lips.

  Not one part of me believes that Ellis would do this, but something st
irs in me on a primal level and nags at me to question Gage. I don’t like it. I want to reach in and rip that part right out, shove it in a blender and feed it to Chloe for breakfast.

  Nicholas thumps his water bottle over the table and the room quiets to a dull roar.

  “Attention,” Delphinius calls, “the next six regions determine everything.” He looks directly at me. “There seems to be a breach of trust.” He glances at Gage before reverting back to me. “Do be careful.”

  Chapter 63

  Who Are You

  Gage and I drive back to the Oliver’s house through a curtain of heaven’s tears. We plan to hang out and watch a movie. Really, I want to watch Gage—study him under the microscope of my newfound distrust.

  “So tell me again what happened at the ridge?” I ask, stirring the hot cocoa Emma served up for us in the kitchen.

  Logan sits beside me, watching him with scrupulous attention.

  Gage squints into the memory. He’s taking his time to align the words just right as if constructing an alibi.

  I slip my hand under the table and tap on Logan’s knee until his warm fingers wrap around mine.

  I think maybe he threw the region, I say, glancing in Logan’s direction.

  “What?” Logan doesn’t bother hiding his disbelief.

  Dr. Oliver and Emma look over from the counter with surprise.

  “Sorry,” he says, “just trying to get Gage to hurry up and answer.” I doubt he threw the region. Gage has no reason to side with the Counts. And he told me what you thought happened between him and Chloe. That’s not only improbable—it’s impossible. He loves you, Skyla.

  “When I hit the ravine, I saw Ellis.” Gage pushes in a dimple on one side and my stomach detonates with heat. Why does he have to be so freaking hot and potentially naughty all at the same time? “I’m one hundred percent positive it was Ellis who took the region.”

  Logan wriggles free from my grip and gives a slight look of disgust. I snatch at his fingers before he has a chance to escape and give a sad smile in his direction.