Ethereal Knights (25 page)

I shake my head in disbelief.

Barron can be such a doofus sometimes. It’s like he can’t control what flies from his mouth. It’s all facts, all the time, regardless of how the other person might feel. He means no harm, but often brings it. 

“Breed me?” Skyla jumps a foot in her seat. “I’m not some animal you can lock up in a cage and force to have a litter of babies.”

Way to go, bro. I raise a brow at him.

“You are if they catch you,” he continues, unmitigated. “It’s a part of the price of being pure.”

Skyla’s face melts with fear.
A part of me wants to ask if by “pure,” he means virgin. Because if my virginity ups my value in any way, then by all means, I’ll do whatever it takes to save my life. But I know better.

Maybe I should step in and clarify. But I don’t. Instead, I turn to her with all of the tenderness pouring from my heart. “Put that pendant on as soon as you get home.” God, I pray it’s at her house, or in her purse, or at the bottom of her gym bag—as long as she can find it.

She lets go of my hand, and her lips give a nervous twitch.

Just as I thought—we’ll have to find another way to protect her.

***

That night, Skyla calls and relays the news that her sisters ratted her out. Turns out they knew I was over, and now her parents are threatening to move clear off the island to keep her safe from me and my private parts.

“It’s my fault,” I say. Most things are.

“No, trust me. Everything is my fault these days,” she counters.

I don’t think I could deal with Skyla moving back to L.A.—or anywhere off the island for that matter. I have to be near her. I’d give up the bowling alley if I had to and become something just this side of a stalker to cut the metric distance.

“I can’t believe this.” My lungs deflate. “I can visit.” Like every single day.

“I doubt they’ll let you.”

“We’ll apply to the same universities.” We will anyway, I can feel it.

“And if we don’t get in the same ones?”

“Paragon has an awesome community college.” I’d turn down a dozen football scholarships for Skyla.

We talk for a little bit longer before finally hanging up. As soon as the line goes dead, I miss the sound of her voice—the steady rhythm of her breathing.

The thought of Skyla moving lies over me like a stone ready to crush my chest. I’m not sure Gage would mind is she left town. Not having Skyla around means that neither one of us gets her.

But I do get her.

This much I know is true.  

Gage

It’s after two in the morning when my cell goes off, and strangely enough, it’s a call from Bree—most likely a butt dial rather than a booty call.

“What’s up?” I say, lying back on the couch while Logan, Ellis, and I watch the tube.

“It’s Skyla!” She screams so loud that Logan sits up abruptly. “She stabbed Darrell with scissors. But she totally didn’t mean it. She thought she was protecting us from some homicidal maniac.”

“Who the hell is Darrell?” The thought of Skyla stabbing anybody throws me for a loop, and the room sways for a moment.

“My mom’s boyfriend. Or at least he was. I totally wouldn’t blame him if he, like, never spoke to her again—that is, if he
survives
.” The line goes to static. “I gotta go. Mom wants me to drive her to the hospital. Tell Logan I’m not coming in tomorrow.”

The phone cuts out.

I glance up at Logan who’s already texting Skyla. He might be her “boyfriend,” but I’ll do whatever it takes to comfort her. 

***

Logan latches on, and we teleport to Skyla’s house, but she’s not there and neither is her parents’ minivan. I finally get Drake to confess that they hauled her off to the fucking psych ward.

“I don’t have enough juice to get us there and back,” I say. “I knew we should have driven.”

“Go up there by yourself.” Logan pants as we head outside. “Take me home.” He looks into the woods, frustrated by his inability to help her. “I’ll wait for her in my dreams.” Logan has the ability to draw a person into his dream world. It sucks the life out of him when he performs the nocturnal feat, so it’s rare. And as much as I hate to admit it, I know Skyla would appreciate the escape, so I take him home and wish him luck.

For a brief second, I consider hopping in the truck and heading to the hospital, but it’s a clear forty minutes from here, so I blink away and hope to God I arrive. 

Paragon Hospital stands out like a sore thumb against the expansive, lush hillside. The moon shines clear from above, and the fog is already dissipating. I head inside and take the elevator to the top.

I’ve never teleported so much in one day. Logan was right—I should have spent more time honing my powers. I was too far gone with the visions, too addicted to seeing Skyla brighten my mental horizon to even care about other things. 

The elevator doors open, and I shoot a glance around the sterile environment. I try to think about Skyla—where she might be on the unit until my body dissolves to a fray of disorganized molecules.

A neat box of a room appears around me, and I find myself staring down at a girl in a disheveled gown—Skyla. She sobs over a small wooden bed, her back trembling with fear. It’s dark in here, save for the light streaming in from a tiny window in the door that leads to the hall.

“Skyla.” I make my way over to a narrow strip of light so she can see me. I’d rather not get my balls yanked off from scaring the junk out of her.

She bucks and screams in the dark until her eyes adjust, and a smile appears on her face just for me.

“It’s me, Gage,” I whisper.

She springs up and flies into my arms. Skyla folds into me, her face slicked with tears, and I rub my cheek against hers, assuring her it’s going to be okay.

“I can’t stay,” I whisper, brushing my lips over the top of her hair. “They’ll check on you every fifteen minutes.” I pull back and take her in. Even in this dim light, with her tear-covered face, she’s so amazingly beautiful. Skyla Messenger is a work of art that could make the Mona Lisa look like a preschooler threw it together.

That vision from Rockaway blows through me like a summer storm, and I try to shake it off before I get carried away.

“Logan wants you to try and fall asleep. He can visit you there in your dreams.” Logan is the anti hard-on. Just thinking of them together effectively douses any carnal desire in me.

“He can?” Her brows knit in confusion. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“He was saving it.” I pull her in close. I don’t want to let go—not now, not ever. A shadow covers the door. “They’re coming.” I wipe the tears from her face and offer a reserved smile. “Goodnight.” I push my lips to her forehead and dissolve to nothing.

***

A pale bloom of fog greets me. I make it about a quarter of a mile from the hospital before fully materializing just off the main highway.

I pat my jeans—no cell phone, no wallet, no change.

“Great.” Looks like it’s a nice early morning walk for me. I’d hitchhike, but there’s not a headlight to be found.

“Nevermore.” I call for him out of boredom more than necessity.

It takes a few minutes for him to land on my shoulder. We plod along for a good stretch of highway before I decide to find someplace to nod off and recharge my batteries. Oddly enough, the beach to my left is Rockaway, so I head in that direction. It’s weird how I haven’t been here in years, and now here I am, twice in one week. Kind of a coincidence that I could only get as far as this before my teleportation skills decided to give me the middle finger.

I wander my way under a giant coral tree and lie beneath it. I can see the stars shining up through its smooth grey branches. They look like the shapely limbs of a women—Skyla’s arms ready to hold me.

The fiery red trumpets that adorn the tree are turned up toward heaven as if they were about to signal something monumental, life changing.

Something big is about to happen on Paragon—to Skyla—in my life. Everything in me knows this to be true. I don’t know what, but I can feel it coming as sure as the next wave is about to break over the shore. I just pray it’s not Skyla who’s about to break—that someway, somehow her heart feels that special connection to mine.

As for Logan, I hope he finds someone, too. Just not Skyla. Please God, don’t let it be Skyla.

I close my eyes and fall into a vat of strange dreams. A mysterious stranger comes to the island and becomes the new thorn in my side. A wickedness, thick as smoke, covers Paragon. It stretches its jaws and tries to swallow Skyla whole. A war erupts, but not here—somewhere new, a desolate place with snakelike rivers. Logan, Skyla, and me are gathered in a strange arid place. A white stallion charges in our direction. The rider is swift and skilled, a woman with her face shielded by a cloak. She holds out a sickle, large and looming with its serrated razor-like teeth. She trots over to the three of us and holds out the belly of the blade—slicing our heads off as she rides away laughing.

My eyes bolt open, and I take in a breath.

The rider on the white horse—it was death—and death looked a hell of a lot like Chloe Bishop. 

20

Logan

See You in My Dreams

Emma swears that melatonin knocks her out before she hits the sheets, so I pop one in my mouth and get to bed. I pull off my T-shirt and lay it over my eyes, hoping for the best. I don’t make it a regular practice to open my dreamscape to others—hell, I don’t hang out there myself. It’s worse than a viral hangover in the morning. I’ve been known to puke my guts up for hours just wishing my intestines would hurl out of my body and get it over with.

The bed trembles. The mattress loosens beneath me as I melt through the sheets. It’s always the falling sensation that clues me in on the fact I’m about to drift into dreamland, literally.

A blank canvas awaits. I stretch out the sky the color of her eyes. I mold the earth into a grassy hillside with blades as thick as fingers. A sparkling lake roars to life at my command, serene and beautiful. The scenery alone beckons me to stay for hours. I raise the sun high over head. A makeshift fiery orb affords heat and light like the real deal, but better, because this one we can actually see. In this universe, I’m nothing short of a god. But I’m far from the creator himself, and with the questionable DNA mapped out inside me I could never hope to be.

Skyla appears from nowhere.

“Logan!” She jumps up on my waist, and I spin her, kiss her lips until I’m dizzy, and we fall to the soft rolling lawn.

“Comfortable?” I wipe the tears from her eyes—kiss away the ones that bloom in the corners with my lips.

“Yes.” She snuggles into me as we lay on the sheer slope.

“You’re going to be fine,” I assure her. I’ll break in and free her myself if I have to.

“Did Gage say so? Why didn’t I think of that? I should have made Gage tell me everything about my future.”

“It’s not right of him to do that.” I run my fingers through her hair over and over, stroking her like some exotic creature. I don’t want her to think too deeply about Gage or his predictions, especially not if they involve her and a wedding ring.

It’s too hard to hold up the wall here. At any moment, my thoughts could release like a torrent, spilling Gage and his obsessive brand of love all over the damn place.

“I’m desperate.” She pulls in close and fills in the space between us with her soft, delicate curves.

I press in a quick kiss. “You don’t need to be. Take in the Master’s peace. He wants this anxiety, give it to him.” It’s the one thing that’s kept me from going insane in both this life and the one I had before it—never did bother to hold onto the anxiety that life kept shoveling my way. I’ve always had peace up until I met Skyla—until I found out I couldn’t protect her. 

She rolls over and looks up at me, innocent as a dove. “I don’t know how to send it.”

I reach up, and a deflated balloon appears between my fingers.

“What’s that?”

“Your anti-stress agent.” I give a little smile. “Imagine all of your stress filling up this balloon. Come on.” I nudge her shoulder.

Skyla gives a long blink before staring intently at the limp latex in my hand.

The balloon begins to swell. She leans up on her elbows, amazed as it augments to the size of a lavender watermelon. I tie it off and let go. We watch as it sails into the sky until it turns into a tiny purple dot, innocuous as confetti.

“There it goes.” I mock shoot it with my fingers as it touches the stars and dissipates to nothing.

“It’s done.” She shivers. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me.”

“Right.
Thanks
,” she shouts up at the sky. Skyla interlaces our fingers and spoons into me as we lie on the grass.
There’s so much more I don’t understand. So many more balloons to fill in this lifetime. I wonder how he has time to hear them all or if they accumulate around him until he’s overwhelmed. I imagine I’ll get to ask him myself one day. He’ll show me a pile of decimated latex, and I’ll get to thank him all over.

Skyla’s right. There are so many balloons we’ve yet to fill.

I tighten my grip over her.

As long as we’re together, we can survive anything.

Gage drifts through my mind like a ghost.

Can we survive Gage?

I wonder.

***

The next day, I’m about as useful as a sack of shit on fire. Somehow, I’ve managed to avoid puking my guts up but slept until daylight had long since passed, and it’s dark outside my window again.

Gage barges in. He clip-clops those boat feet of his over until it sounds like a hammer is cracking over my skull. 

“Great news.” He sits on the edge of my bed. “Thought you might like to know, Skyla’s out of the hospital.”