Toxic Part Two Read online

  Marshall’s eyes round out with horrific delight and it occurs to me I’ve just played to his ego in the entirely wrong way.

  He plucks a twig from my sweater. “Shall we run upstairs and get you into something a little more comfortable?”

  “Let’s see—” Oddly I want to say yes, but I’m thinking sweats, and I bet he’s thinking something more along the lines of sweating. “I bet your bed falls under the category of something more comfortable.” I flat line.

  “If you insist.”

  A knock erupts at the door before I take total leave of my senses and pull off his jeans to discover for myself what exactly he’s equip to “please the crowd with.”

  “Give me a second—I’ll get rid of them.” He springs to his feet and nearly lands me on the floor.

  “It’s probably Gage,” I say, rolling off and heading over. A part of me sings at the thought of seeing him again tonight, until I remember what has me so ticked in the first place and my stomach sours.

  “Like I said, give me a second—I’ll remove them from the planet.”

  Marshall flings open the door and I find myself staring in the face of a pissed off, rather dazed and confused, Michelle Miller.

  “Expecting company?” I look over at Marshall.

  “What’s going on?” She demands.

  Michelle plucks at a long, dark curl over and over as if its code for some sexual promise. She’s dressed to seduce with a skintight sweater, no bra and a pair of bright red FMs that look suspiciously like a pair Brielle lent me once.

  “Just hanging out,” I say before a thought comes to me. “You wanna come in? We were just about to play a game.”

  “Sure,” she says, crossing the threshold, her gaze never leaving Marshall’s blessed-by-God face.

  “Shelly, you can’t stay.” Marshall gently pushes her back out. “Skyla and I are calling it a night. We’ve a game to play in private.” He’s quick to let the sexual implications fly.

  “You are sleeping with him!” She slices her nails across my face so quick I don’t have time to duck and cover. I touch my fingers to my cheek and affirm the fresh glow of crimson.

  “On second thought,” Marshall says, plucking her in by the elbow, “there’s always room for one more in our late night shenanigans.” He’s good and pissed, but Michelle is too doped up on her lust for him to see it.

  “Kinky.” She laughs. Her features reduce to cinders at his magical soothing touch and she snatches up his hand and plunges his finger into her mouth.

  Is that a trend or something? Maybe he’s done it to her before? Or, eww—is that what he does to all the girls?

  “Knock that off,” I sing playfully, swatting his hand free from her upper orifice. “I’d hate for my future husband to be defiled.”

  Marshall and I walk Michelle over to the mirror of terror sitting innocently by the piano. It’s just lying in wait for some poor, unsuspecting face-scratching human to hop right in.

  “Take a good look at yourself before we start in on our feast of flesh,” Marshall instructs, nodding toward the mysterious Fem artifact.

  Michelle licks her dewy lips. She looks over at me, inhales while inventorying the offerings, and sighs with disappointment before turning to Marshall. For him she quakes. Her mouth opens and nothing but a stream of choking sounds emit. She glances at her reflection in the mirror before turning to Marshall again. I can see the lust in her eyes, the fire in her belly to have him. It turns my stomach to see her so openly eager—throbbing for the Sector that the orator himself pegged as my future husband.

  “What should I do first?” She touches her hand to the glass while sinking her pornographic intentions into him. “Tie Skyla up? We can use her as firewood. I do like a nice crackling fire in the background, and Skyla has enough fat to fuel us into next week.”

  I take a deep breath and give her a solid shove in the back.

  Glass shatters as Michelle falls into the mirror. It discharges long, jagged spears through the air like shrapnel. A thousand slivered guillotines fall like rain as Michelle sails off into the dark abyss on the other side.

  “Nobody disfigures my future bride.” Marshall pulls me in by the waist. “Would you be moved to offer a supple token of your affection—by way of your lips perhaps?”

  “I may.” I lean up and press a soft kiss into him, so brief and chaste, a pet could garner more action from me if the situation warranted.

  A harrowing scream emits from the world inside the haunted speculum.

  I jump back and Marshall shields me with his body as a violent gush of wind pushes out of it at hurricane force.

  An entire coven of bats fly from the dark, arid hole and dart toward the ceiling before clapping to dust. A crow, a raccoon, a thousand furry black spiders trickle over the metal frame, and I jump into the safety of Marshall’s arms.

  Another series of screams erupt as Michelle pleads for mercy until her voice grows bare.

  She cries in terror from the other side, as the glass collects itself from the four corners of the room.

  The mirror restores itself to its former glory right before our eyes and the screaming stops—silent as the sun.

  I have a feeling we may never see Michelle Miller again. And I’m damn sure if she ever does get out, she’ll do a hell of a lot more than scratch me.

  Chapter 65

  Birthday Blowup

  In the morning, God spears Paragon with javelins of fire as He knives lightning bolts into Marshall’s yard. The forest and the hillside in the distance light up in a spectacular show of electrocution. I watch as they form a ring of fire in the sky—a familiar demonic nest of lavender currents.

  An electrical storm has hit the island, a peculiar phenomenon, which has all of the telltale signs of a classic downpour, minus the actual aquatic properties required for such occasion. I’m betting this weather-based anomaly has something to do with the fact Marshall is having the stalls and corral professionally cleaned today. He’s deemed them a steaming pit of fecal matter waiting to cast a pox of boils on anyone who happens to step three feet in their vicinity. God, how I’d love to lock Demetri in a stall until boils erupt all over his body—Chloe, too.

  I glance over at the mirror and a horrific guilty feeling lines me like lead. God only knows what I’ve done to Michelle.

  Marshall catches my attention from across the breakfast table. “How are your eggs?” He asks with all of the sultry velvet his voice can afford. I know he’s referring to my breakfast and yet somehow I suspect my ovaries are the topic at hand.

  He’s showered and shaved and looks every bit the demigod he is. He’s wearing a sweatshirt from West, with Cerberus’s effigy on the front, and sadly, this makes me long for Gage—the one I knew and loved.

  “They’re great.” I shrug. Marshall has prepared a feast. Honestly, ten people couldn’t wolf down all the food he’s lovingly prepared. “So I gather you’ll do the cooking once the eternal covenant of our love commences.” I bite down a smile. The thought of Marshall committing to a life of remedial chores somehow pleases me.

  “For you, I’d slice and dice the universe, reduce it to liquid and let you drink down the concoction.” His eyes light up with seduction. “I’ll lay the world at your feet, every God-breathed minute. But you already know that.” He bears into me with an intense desire and I can’t find the strength to look away. He’s seeing me, without my clothes, without my inhibitions, imagining us together. I don’t know how I know this, I just do.

  I look into his eyes and watch as a scene unravels like a movie. There we are, together in one tangle of flesh, my face lost in delirium—and this causes my cheeks to burn with an intensity I’ve never felt before.

  An abrasive knock explodes over the door, interrupting the fantasy-based fervor.

  “The dolts have arrived.” He gives a brief blink of annoyance before heading toward the entry and I dutifully follow. Truthfully, I haven’t left Marshall’s side since what shall from now on be referred t
o as the incident. I’m not quite sure how to classify what happened to Michelle.

  Marshall swings open the door, just as a loud crackle of thunder detonates from above.

  “Logan!” I dart past Marshall and give him a hug. To my surprise, I see both Ethan and Drake coming up the driveway.

  “Dudley,” Drake calls out.

  “Around the back,” Marshall barks out the order. “Shovels and disposal units are at the ready.”

  Ethan gives a brief wave as they file through the side gate.

  “That’s who you’re relying on to clean the crap out of your yard? They don’t even flush the toilet half the time. Sanitation is not a high priority, just saying.”

  “The dollar is an amazing lure.” He turns to Logan and his features darken. “What bids the visit?” Marshall doesn’t care for the Oliver standing before us—either one to be exact.

  I twirl my fingers against Logan’s bare neck and marvel at the way he glows in the early morning light. I suggest Marshall gets used to seeing Logan’s gorgeous face. It’s obvious to me he’ll be my husband one day, my only husband.

  Logan opens his mouth then retracts. Instead, he graces us with a sly smile, so hot, it has the power to inspire every woman on the planet to spontaneously disrobe in his presence.

  Logan taps the side of my arm before rubbing me lovingly.

  I don’t feel so bad that you’re staying with Dudley now that I know you’re planning our wedding.

  Shit. He totally heard that husband comment, so I go with it.

  “Morning, honey.” I dot his cheek with a kiss.

  The vertical dimple I gave him in a fit of rage depresses. I love him like this, resplendent and beautiful with a genuine affection for me pouring from his existence.

  “What’s going on?” He asks.

  “Nothing,” I assure him. “Absolutely nothing.”

  Marshall pulls me back as though I were about to fall from a ledge—funny how he didn’t employ that maneuver yesterday when I actually did fall from a ledge.

  “We’ve just indulged in a wild orgy of a breakfast.” Marshall steps into Logan. “Skyla was in need of nourishment after a long night tucked safe in my arms. Isn’t that right, love?” Marshall ticks his chin up and smiles because, well—he might be telling the truth.

  “Skyla?” Logan doesn’t hide his disapproval.

  “What?” I gag. “I was scared. You would have totally done the same thing if you knew the freaky shit that went down in this house last night.” Of course, if Logan were here, I might have been far more willing to listen to that whole “human life raft” line Marshall tried feeding me by the bulldozer—although it didn’t stop me from clinging to him like one, wrapping my legs around him while trying to stay afloat in the madness.

  Life raft? Logan pulls me in. Clinging to him with your legs? He cuts a death threat to the Sector in our midst before reverting back to me. “You wanna hang out?” He tightens his grip around my waist as if it’s the only way to keep me safe. “I took the day off.”

  “I sort of have to pack for the Cape.” I thump my fingers over my lips. “Wait, we’re leaving today… It’s the twenty-first! Happy birthday!” I jump up and down and warm a kiss, square over his lips.

  “In that case,” Marshall says, widening the door, “do come in. I have a gift.”

  Logan secures himself to my side as we make our way in.

  Marshall slams the door behind us with the finality of a gunshot and glares.

  “How old are you this fine day?” He seethes into Logan.

  “Eighteen.” Logan is unmoved by Marshall’s terroristic show of bravado.

  “Do you wish to end your days at this tender age?” It comes out more a fact than question.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I smack Marshall in the arm. “Logan and I are going to live very long lives. It’s been prophesied.” Albeit from a questionable source.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Marshall towers over Logan.

  I swear, Marshall just grew three feet in his fit of anger, plus he invoked a quasi-expletive, which leads me to believe he is extravagantly pissed at the birthday boy.

  Logan sears Marshall with his hatred. They seem to be traveling in a linear direction with the topic and I’m clueless as to what it might be.

  “Shelf it—I’m not interested in getting into this with you right now.” Logan steps out in a defiant stance.

  “Let’s go for a drive,” I say in an attempt to usher him out of range from Marshall’s fist. “I was thinking about running over to Demetri’s to log a couple hours, not to mention spy on my mother. Did I forget to tell you that she’s shacking up with him now? Oh, and she’s sort of kidnapped Brielle’s baby.”

  Neither of them flinch from their venomous stares. There’s not one note of interest in my mother or baby Beau’s wellbeing.

  Marshall takes one final step into Logan. “I’ll have you castrated if you ever pull a stunt like that again. I’ll hang you naked in the middle of the schoolyard for all to inspect the damage.” He fumes. “Though you lie in temporal bliss, wait for me. I will cut you down—there is not a bone in your body I will not break with glee.” Marshall cuts his hand through the air and points hard at the door as it flies open in obedience to his invisible command.

  “Come on,” I whisper, dragging Logan through the threshold. “I’ll catch up with you later,” I cut Marshall a hard look for his seemingly unwarranted scolding.

  Logan and I jump in the truck and he starts up the engine with an aggressive assault.

  “What the hell was that about?” I ask as we peel out of the driveway, leaving indelible tire marks in our wake. “Let me guess—Ezrina?”

  “No.” He blows a hard sigh through his cheeks as we head onto the highway.

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” I ask accusingly.

  “No, Skyla,” he depresses my name out in less than a whisper. “I’m not.”

  Chapter 66

  Happy Birthday

  The dark sky lights up in a fracture of lavender tendrils. Lightning dances through the heavens every few seconds, mimicking the glimmer of sunlight on a dappled L.A. morning. Logan rolls down his window and lets in the dry static charge—lets it cool the fuming anger that Marshall ignited in him like a fuse.

  We head downtown and bypass the bowling alley like it never existed, as if it didn’t belong to him.

  Logan turns toward the beach in the direction of the most untouchable real estate Paragon has to offer. He pulls onto a piece of land that sits next to overpriced lots bejeweled with fancy homes that stretch along the beach all the way down to Devil’s Peak.

  “It’s so pretty here,” I whisper.

  It’s where the greenbelt meets the waterline with a tumultuous kiss. The waves pull in and out all day, working themselves in a pent-up fury without ceasing. I could never tire of the Paragon shoreline. It holds a majesty all its own. I could stare for hours at the bright turquoise water as it seizes and unfurls. God’s handiwork at its finest.

  I decided I wouldn’t push the issue regarding the argument he just had with the sexually pent-up Sector. If he didn’t want to talk about what inspired the scuffle, then I would simply draw the well from Marshall’s side. I’m pretty sure Marshall would decode every mystery that ever lingered if I bared a little cleavage.

  “Last empty lot on the strip. I always thought I’d build a house on it someday—walk to work,” he says, glancing at the bowling alley from his rear view mirror.

  “It’s beyond beautiful—perfect place to build a house,” I say. “You could take a walk on the beach every morning—surf if you wanted.” Most likely the fog would play hide and seek with the beach, but it’d still be there calling out to you, reassuring you of its presence with its briny whispers.

  Logan inhales deeply while looking right at me as if I were oxygen. That lone breath wipes all of the perennial sadness from his eyes and replaces it with a seed of hope.

  “I
s this where you’d like to live, Skyla?” He bows into me with a boyish tenderness. Something about his hesitancy is equally endearing and heartbreaking.

  “Are you kidding? This is the only place to live.” I tick my head toward shore as I hop out of the truck. Logan comes around and takes up my hand. The ocean roars into our ears, trembles through our bones as it settles over the shore.

  “I’ll build you a house here.” Logan knocks his shoulder gently into mine.

  “You’d do that?”

  “Watch me.”

  “You really wouldn’t be building it for me.” I pull him in and trace out his eyebrow with my finger. Logan is the royalty of Paragon, sublime in every way. “I believe it would be us you would be building it for.”

  His smile fades, depletes to a barely there line. “Is there an us, Skyla?”

  “I don’t know, Logan.” I cross my wrists behind his neck. “You tell me.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem.” He touches his forehead to mine a moment before filling his lungs with the fresh sea air. “You let Gage convince you he was going to marry you—and now Dudley’s done the same.”

  A breath gets locked in my throat as he makes his brutal point.

  “And you’ve never done that.” I let my gaze drop to my feet. Why do I suddenly feel like a brainwashed idiot?

  “I want you to decide.” He places his finger under my chin and gently lifts me to look at him. “I don’t want to tell you. I want you to know.”

  “I had that vision of us. So did you. Isn’t that strange? In a way, we participated in our own prophecy.” It was the one of me walking down the aisle—with Logan revealing himself as the groom. I saw it on multiple occasions, and once, I shared it with Gage of all people during a kiss.

  “I know.” His lips twitch into a covert smile. “Your ability to have visions is getting stronger.”