Elysian (29 page)

“Holy crap.” I spin for the stairs. “Marshall!” I shout with everything in me. He’s got a porthole open into jolly old England—emphasis on the
old
—and oodles of women are escaping from the best little whorehouse in Dover. Not that I blame them. I mean we have medication that can cure a yeast infection in less than twenty-four hours and a simple pill that dissolves both headaches and cramps. It must have really sucked to be a woman in the dark ages.

I pass a group of girls dressed in frilly black and powder blue dresses, the crotch once again notched out, for convenience no doubt. So freaking gross.

“Marshall?” I call as I hit the top of the stairs. An entire crew of women circulate in and out of the bedrooms as if there were an individual party going on in each one.

They probably have him hogtied, and he’s loving it, no doubt.

The door to his bedroom is shut tight. I speed over and try to open it, but it’s locked.

“Marshall?” I pound on the mahogany with my fists.

“Are you looking for Master Dudley?” An older women about Mom’s age struts forward with her head jutting out like a chicken. “He’s in there with Marlena. They can’t be disturbed.”

“Who’s Marlena?” Panic spirals through me in an unexpected burst. I’m not waiting around for Marshall to open the door. Instead, I employ my Celestra strength—just thinking of Marshall with this
Marlena
person is enough to twist the handle right off in my hand. “Shit!” I knock my shoulder into the door, and the wood splits in two, right down the middle, before the latch gives.

Marshall turns toward me. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, looking impeccable in a suit minus the jacket, his tie slightly loosened. Shit. A loosened tie is never a good sign.

“What’s going—” I stop midflight and note the girl perched on his bed. She’s propped on her elbow, examining me through heavily-slotted lids.

“Holy shit,” I hiss. I recognize those haunting features—she looks every bit like Chloe Bishop—same glossy mane of ebony hair, albeit longer, same dark, lying eyes, perfectly tanned skin that makes me sick because I innately know this girl has probably never laid out on the beach a day in her life.

“Is this Marlena?” I tilt my head into her. “Crap, Marshall—she looks just like you-know-who.”

“Who is this child?” She says it bored, with a demanding tone that has long lost Bishop written all over her. “And why does she disrespect you by addressing you so rudely?”

Marshall pinches his chin as he considers this.

“Marshall!” I swat him on the arm. “You’re supposed to defend me.”

“She just struck you!” She leaps from the bed and appears before me with her ridiculous red and black ensemble that screams tuck small bills in my panties. She’s wearing a red corset overlaid with black lace, and I recognize it distinctly from the night at the Pine Pole Lodge.

“That’s the corset you let me wear!” I give an opened-mouth smile, completely amused by the sight of it.

“How could you?” NuChloe gasps into Marshall and lands a hard slap over his cheek.

“Hey, watch it, lady!” I push her in the chest, launching her clear across the room.

“Skyla!” Marshall sharpens his gaze into me as if I’ve somehow managed to mesmerize him in the process.

“You
witch
!” She staggers back, swaying like a drunkard until I notice I’ve managed to break the heel off both her shoes. “Who do you think you are charging in here like that? Addressing him as if you were equals?”

“Who do I
think
I am?” I scoff.

Marshall steps between us as if to intercede, and I bury my hand in his chest, pushing him back.

Her face elongates as if I had just set him on fire.

“
I
happen to be his wife,” I snap at the dark-haired demon. “And who does that make you? Oh, yeah”—I step in until I’m a breath away from this antiquated version of my nemesis—“that makes you
nothing
.”

Marlena straightens with a gasp.

“And dear, sweet, misinformed, and severely underdressed
Marlena
”—I smear her name with sarcasm—“Marshall and I
are
equals.”

“Blasphemy!”

“That’s enough for now.” Marshall guides her out into the hall by the shoulders and proceeds to shut the door on her.

“And stay out!” I roar so loud my voice reverberates off the walls.

Marshall pulls me over and takes in a heated breath.

“My
wife
?” His lips curve into a devilish grin.

“That’s right,” I snipe. “And it’s all your fault!”

Marshall crashes his lips to mine and bears down with an all-out assault over my senses. The room sways as Marshall’s electric kiss radiates throughout my body in a series of electrical impulses that feel like paradise in every sense of the word.

There’s something pure brewing here, something deep, intense, a timeless love I can’t quite identify.

A scene opens up. The sun rides high over Marshall’s backyard. Chairs are laid out in neat white rows with a trail of flowers that lead from the house to the neck of the forest where an elaborate arch woven with lavender wisteria hovers like a rainbow.

Marshall and I stand at a makeshift altar as my father officiates the two of us. The crowd breaks into a wild applause while Marshall dips in with a chaste kiss.

I pull back and take him in.

“A wedding.” I shake my head. “A wedding?”

“Is that a protest or a demand?” His cut features catch the light, and he looks undeniably like a god in every way.

“Both?” I give a sly smile. “Wait, if that’s a vision…that means…” I tick my head a little.

“Perhaps.” He dots my forehead with a kiss. “Who am I kidding? It most certainly means…” He mimics me by tilting his head. “Do you want this?”

“Yes, I want this.” I shake my head. “Wait, no!” I touch my hands to my ears. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Ask me what you will this evening.” Marshall’s caramel hair glints in the light. It’s staggering how much he resembles Logan. It’s like they’re brothers, or Marshall is his evil fraternal twin, only sans the evil part. “I won’t deny you anything, Skyla.”

“Excellent. Prepare to be exceptionally burdened all night long. Are you coming to Edinger’s haunted engagement party?”

“I’m afraid I’m rather indisposed at the moment.” He glances toward the door. “I need to monitor the situation before we have a disaster on our hands.”

“You, my friend, already have a disaster on your hands. And,
I
have a Halloween party to attend.” I hold my hands out. “I’m a zombie cheerleader.” I leave out the part about Logan being my zombie boyfriend tonight.

“My how quickly the tide shifts. I’ve gone from your husband to a friend.” He looks incensed at my quick about face.

“It’s an expression. And what did you mean you won’t deny me anything?”

“Anything that’s mine is yours, including this supernatural event I’m hosting. And I prefer you address me as anything but a friend. Save that platonic moniker for someone who it’s more suited for such as Jock Strap or the Pretty One, who, by the way, has tried my patience for the very last time.”

“Really?” A surge of excitement spikes through me, alive, like an arrow on fire. Here it is. I’m going to squeeze all of the juicy details from Marshall if it kills me. “What’s up with you and Logan?”

“What exactly is it you came to ask, my love?” He’s back to business, so I guess Logan’s off the table for now.

“Take me to the Transfer tonight. First things, first. I’m getting Ellis out of Ezrina’s lair myself if I have to. I’ve got enough blood to reanimate the entire Paragon cemetery. I’ll have Ellis up and running by midnight.”

He taps his finger to his chin. “Full of yourself this evening aren’t you?”

“Plus, I want in on Ezrina’s little secret—oh, and Logan’s, too!”

“All granted.” He waves his hand as if it were nothing.

“All granted?” I jump up and down and break into a series of spontaneous cheer kicks just for Marshall. “Wait.” I glue my feet to the floor. “All granted
tonight
?”

“All granted tonight and into the wee hours of the morning if you must get technical.”

“Marshall!” I leap up and wrap my arms around his neck. “Let’s go.”

“Not until after the evening’s frolics have concluded. I’ve guests to tend to. When you’re through carousing with the Olivers, return home.” He picks up my chin tenderly with his finger. “After all, you are the lady of the house.” He gives a quick wink. “Nevertheless, once you arrive, I’ll take it from there.”

“Why can’t we just blip around the Transfer real quick? Plus, I can bring Ellis back. Everyone is dying to see him.”

“No, my love.” His demeanor darkens. “Once you glean all you long to know, nothing will ever be the same again.” Marshall grows all too serious. “I’m afraid this night will be a marker, a
fissure
if you will, in the landscape of your life. Do me this one favor.”

“Anything.” I’m frightened to death but don’t dare show it.

“Let your youth shine this fine night.” He caresses my cheek so tenderly my body aches for his. “Enjoy this evening, Skyla. Shine like only you know how. Be it with Jock Strap or the Pretty One, let down your hair and have a good time—all chaste, of course. Promise me you’ll do this?”

The world stills around us. Did Marshall Dudley just instruct me to have a good time with Gage and Logan? It feels apocalyptic, strangely taboo. Something earthshattering waits for me at the end of this necrotic night, I can feel it.

“I will.” I nod into my assurance.

“Call my name when you wish to return.” Marshall leans in and covers my mouth with his. He swipes his tongue soft over mine, and my insides quiver with passion. Marshall cups my cheeks as if he were saying goodbye forever. This kiss. It feels so final, or at least the last one in a good long while. I grab ahold of his hair and pull him in deeper. This was no currency exchanged for a vision, or the end cap to an argument, this was a lover’s kiss, a prelude of what’s to come at some later date in the future. I’m so in love with Marshall, and it never felt so real. But this was goodbye. I could feel it.

Sometimes innocence ends all too soon. I’ll always be here for you, Skyla. You’ll always have a shoulder to lean on with me. Remember this kiss, Skyla. Seal it over your heart.

I pull back breathless and open my eyes as an icy wind scorches over my skin.

Demetri’s Edinger’s haunted estate stands before me, every bit as wicked as the original in the Transfer.

I’m here at the party, and I’m going to enjoy the innocence of youth for the very last time. 

Demetri’s estate looms ahead like a homage to gossamer-riddled castles, better long forgotten, in a century not our own. A boil of volcanic clouds swirl around the periphery, pulsing with red and purple hues.

Bodies swarm both inside and out while music pumps into the night from somewhere behind the property. I spot the bitch squad emerging from a maze set up to the far right, and only then do I see Giselle trailing along with them. They’re all dressed in their indistinguishable slutty outfits, each one less imaginative than the last—with the exception of Chloe who’s dressed up as a sleazy nurse. Giselle looks like a confused Goth mermaid, complete with sparkly aqua tail and silver glittering heels. She’s got a pair of bright pink seashells covering her boobs and not a whole lot else going on. Really? Who dressed her? And Emma let her little girl go out of the house like this? On second thought, I bet Emma and Dr. O haven’t laid eyes on their sweet baby girl just yet.

Chloe and her minions head in my direction before making their way up the stairs.

“I see you chose irony as your costume,” I quip to Chloe. God knows she’s no healer.

“And I see you chose reality as yours,” she bites back. “An ugly cheerleader.”

The group breaks out in cackles.

A group of zombie cheerleaders from East walk by and giggle to themselves while gawking in our direction.

“One, two, three!” Their leader shouts. “West sucks!” They scream in unison.

I recognize Carly Foster and Carson Armistead.

“God, I hate them,” I whisper as Chloe shoulders up to me. “But don’t worry Chloe, I hate you far more. You’ll always hold that special place on my shit list. I’d never dethrone you as the biggest abhorrence of my life.” If my innocence ends tonight, like Marshall suggested, then I may as well let it all hang out.

Chloe smirks into me as if I were nothing more than a stench in her nostrils before stepping over to the bitch squad and Giselle.

A pair of warm arms encircle my waist from behind, and I turn to see Gage’s gorgeous smiling face. He’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans and his killer dimples. Honestly, the dimples would have been enough.

“And what are you supposed to be?” I ask, as someone tickles my ribs from behind, and I leap out of Gage’s arms screaming. Logan stands there with his arms open wide.

“You scared the crap out of me.” I swat him on the stomach.

“It’s Halloween. It’s practically tradition.” He reels me in away from Gage. “She’s my date tonight, buddy. Hands off.”

Chloe makes a gagging noise like she might be sick. “Let’s get out of here before I hurl a pound of candy corn. Unless, of course, the two of you were about to entertain us with a duel to the death over Skyla’s dishonor?”

Nat honks a laugh. “More like an orgy.”

“Right,” Lex barks, as her boobs ready themselves to burst from the corset she’s fastened down so tight her waist looks like a telephone pole. “I doubt we’re talking orgy. More like
cheating
. Skyla is living it up with both of them on the side. How does it feel, Logan? How does it feel to have someone you care about running around with someone else?”

A gust of wind picks up, and the gate creeks before slamming shut as if Demetri, himself, were locking us in for the night.

“It feels like crap, Lex,” Logan belts it out like a reprimand. “Is that what you want me to say? I’m sorry if I hurt you—if I ever let you to believe that we were anything more than friends. But that’s all we were. Get over it.”