Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 7.5) (3 page)

“Well, now that I know how much you like him, yeah, I’ll tell him you said hi.”

Nev cries out and stretches his wings before shuddering.
Do no such thing. No point in creating more misery for yourself. Speaking of misery, your mother is intent on augmenting our punishment should the new trial yield the same results. I’ve come to the conclusion death will most certainly come for me.

“Nev!” I gasp at the thought of my mother trying to off my favorite bird. I can’t even go there so I choose to dispense equal doses of humor and sarcasm to pull us out of the fresh dug grave my mother has us trapped in. “I see you’re on a positivity kick. You’re wrong, by the way—death will not come. If she punishes you and your knife twirling wife, she’ll have to carry out the same punishment for Logan and me—I won’t let that happen.”

Speaking of my knife twirling better half, she’s a bit twitchy at the moment. Turns out the agreement was to span the reserve of Master Logan’s existence and he’s already abandoned his sleeping duty
.

“She can’t expect him to hang out in the Transfer all day and take a nap. He’s got school, and the bowling alley, and this little thing called reality to tend to.”

He can and he must. He entered into a binding agreement and there’s no turning back
.

My heart beats erratic. Why would Logan give everything up like that? For
me
? To alleviate a few moments of my suffering?

A slow building rage starts to brew in my bones. I’ve done this to Logan. He’s bound himself to Ezrina because of me. I want to shake him for loving me to the point of losing his freedom. He’s going to get himself killed, or worse, bound and gagged as Ezrina’s personal honeymoon suite.

“Tell her the deal is off. It’s game over. I’m not going to let Logan lose his life just because she feels the need to ditch her hag wear for shag wear. She was lucky he did her the favor.”

That’s not how it works. You humans have no idea the demands a binding agreement puts on a soul
. 

“It’s not like she can make him do it.”

True enough, but if that’s the case, the consequences could be carried out rather swiftly.

“What consequences?”

You don’t know?
Nev jets out his neck in a staccato rhythm doing his best impersonation of chicken, or a highly agitated raven who’s at wits end with doltish human half-breeds.
I’d rather not say. Perhaps the one who committed to the sacrifice can explain it best.
He hops toward the window and I crank it out for him. Nev lingers on the ledge outside as the world melts around him in shades of brown and grey like a pile of dull old coins.

Logan has disintegrated his world for me—laid everything out on the line to buy me a few minutes without pain.

He said he would rather die than watch me suffer.

Dear God, I pray that’s the last thing he’s committed to doing.

***

Downstairs, the air is thick with indistinguishable odors. Smells like spinach, old socks, and quite possibly a wet dog, stewing together in one nauseating rolling boil.

I meander into the kitchen to find Mom and Tad at the table. Mom cradles Beau in her arms as she feeds him a bottle while Tad looks haggard and worn, twenty years his senior.

“Morning,” I chime.

“She never came back for him,” Tad whimpers with fatigue.

Judging by the dark circles under his eyes and his hair sporting the light socket effect, I’m betting he means Brielle.

“I don’t think she will,” I say, pulling a mug from the cupboard.

I have a feeling this will be an emotionally challenging day that requires mega doses of caffeine in all of its beautiful incarnations, starting with coffee.

“What do you mean, you don’t think she will?” Tad stands in an early morning rage. “That’s child abandonment.”

Suddenly, he’s gunning for position of welfare official.

“She’s young.” Mom coos into the baby as if she were singing him a lullaby. “Besides, I’ll be happy to watch over this little angel for as long as she needs me to.”

“You will do no such thing. There’s no way in hell we’re staring down the barrel of an eighteen-year babysitting stint,” Tad gags. “I want the casket, the bag full of questionable paraphernalia, and the kid returned before noon.”

“You talk about him like he’s a library book,” I scoff. God knows the only safe place in the world for that child is right there in my mother’s arms. Hey? Maybe that’s why my own mother placed me under the parental supervision of Lizbeth Messenger Landon? Little did she know Demetri would slither back into her life. Bet she regrets it now.  

“You’re right, Skyla.” Tad’s voice elevates in pitch. “And going along that ‘library’ line of thinking—we should invoke a late fee for keeping us up all night. Lizbeth, drop him off on their doorstep and make a run for it. I’ll print up a bill and have it notarized—make them think twice before they invoke another hostile takeover of a good night’s sleep.”

“It’s raining.” Mom says it more as a passive observation rather than a solid argument against Tad’s insane dingdong ditch ramblings. “And again, let me reiterate for those too close-minded to comprehend”—she so means Tad—“this child will remain in my custody until his mother decides otherwise.”

“Do you hear this?” Tad balks mostly to himself.

Mia and Melissa walk in with such severe cases of bed-head, I’m half-afraid they’ve once again resorted to their beauty school brand of revenge.

They pinch their noses in synchronized distress at the foul odor that’s descended among us.

“You forgot to put away your gross food last night,” Mia snaps at Melissa while lifting the lid off the red-enameled offender on the stove. A strong odor releases into the air. It makes the smell that preceded it seem like a floral bouquet picked fresh from Paradise. I throw the back door open so fast it creates a gale force wind straight through the dining room.

Melissa growls into my sister. “It’s not my fault. I got kicked out of the kitchen because that overgrown cheerleader showed up.”

I’m pretty sure she means Isis, Demetri’s so-called
relative
who is so obviously trying to take down Mom and Tad. Little does she know that a cherub-faced infant has usurped her in that arena in merely one restless night.

“Skyla?” Mia’s voice softens. “Can we get a ride to the mall?” Melissa appears by her side and they try to sway me with their most distressed puppy faces. Funny how accouterments can bring together the Hatfield and McCoy’s of the Landon brood with even the suggestion of a fashion-based romp.

“Yes, for the sake of unity. But you two have to promise no fighting.”

“No fighting.” Their voices meld together as one.

Perfect. Plus this will give me a chance to inject my own wardrobe with something special for Logan’s getaway birthday extravaganza at the Cape. Although, not even the prospect of new clothes can get my mind off Gage and the fornicating frenzy that most likely occurred last night in the butterfly room. 

“Aha!” Tad flicks a finger at a piece of paper. “I just added up the expenses, and this little critter is going to run us an extra four hundred bucks a month—not to mention shots and exams. Get another dog, Lizbeth. Kids are an extravagance we cannot afford.”

“A dog?” Mom’s eyes lodge out of her skull. “You do not replace people with pets. There is no dollar amount in the world that would keep me from raising another child.”

“Replacing people with pets is all the rage,” Tad insists. “What do you think all these dog lovers are doing dressing up their pets in sweaters and shoes? They take them to daycare and on vacation. You can get as carried away as you like. It’s because times are tough, Lizbeth. People simply cannot afford pint-sized plebeians who gradually eat away your bank account and sanity, then go on to repopulate your household with yet more ingrates who wind up costing you a good night’s rest.”

Mom’s entire body buzzes with rage. I can tell she wants to yank the bottle out the baby’s mouth and beat Tad over the head with the rubber nipple.

Chloe walks in and zeros her hostility my way with a kind, courteous good morning.

“Good morning?” I seethe, following her to the fridge. “I
bet
it’s a good morning,” I hiss. “Heard you had them lined all the way up to my bedroom last night.”

“Just one,” she whispers with her lips dipped in a devious smile. “But he’s not the type to kiss and tell.”

“He didn’t have to. As soon as you slithered out, I went up and found him sitting there.”

Chloe cuts me a sharp look, examines me like I might be lying. “I guess we can’t pull anything over on you.”

“I guess you can’t.” She might as well have plunged a blade in my heart when she said the word
we
.

She tries to circle around me but I block her at the pass.

“I need to wash my hair, Skyla, or I’ll be late for work,” she says it low as not to clue Mom and Tad in on our awkward exchange.

“Let me help you with that.” In one swift move, I snatch her by the wrists and dunk her head in the smelly stew Melissa left fermenting overnight. Chloe bucks and writhes as I employ all of my Celestra strength to hold her under just another moment.

“Skyla!” Tad leaps out of his chair and jumps in front of me like an impotent ninja, afraid to come too close lest he be baptized as well.  

The girls breakout in a choir of disgust.

Mom rises and shields the baby as if I might target him next.

Chloe knocks me back and gasps for air, retching and gagging in the process. It’s the exact same reaction Gage should have for ever laying a hand on her.

“Stay the hell away from the rest of my life.” I push her hard in the chest. “Or I’ll make sure it’s the end of yours.”

“Skyla,” Tad barks, “you are not welcome to treat a guest in my house that way.”

“
She’s
a guest?” It drills out of me. “And you’d like to trade your own grandchild in for a
dog
? If that’s how your house operates, it’s the last place I want to be.”

“Fine!” His face inflames like a cherry. “Pack up and see if you can get a better deal elsewhere.” He glances at the demon to his right. “Chloe, it looks like a bedroom just freed up.”

“You do not touch one of your things, Skyla.” Mom shelters Beau’s tiny head with the palm of her hand. “You are not going anywhere.”

“Oh, I’m going—and if you were smart, you’d hightail it out of here yourself.” I pivot and head for the stairs.

“Will you still take us to the mall?” Mia pleads. Her face is upturned and I can see a patina of hurt in her eyes. How can I leave my sisters with this brood of vipers?

“Be ready in fifteen.” I have no clue where I’m going to stay, but wherever it is, I’m sure Mom and Tad will drag me back before I can properly appreciate the metric distance that I’m about to put between us. I’ll have to look at it as a temporary vacay from the hotbed of insanity my mother has leashed us to.

In the meantime, I’ll have to come up with a solid plan for the future, one that includes ditching Landon manner once I get that hot little diploma in my hands next spring.

My future plans used to involve Gage, his body, a hotel room and an entire tribe of gorgeous children. I’m pretty sure that pipe dream, much like my mother’s marriage, is over for good. 

Chapter 59

Playing House

The rain gives one sultry cry of aggression, falling slantways from the angry sky before stopping just long enough for me to toss three garbage bags full of my randomly collected belongings into the trunk of the Mustang.

The girls run down the porch with their ear-buds secured in position, ready to trek over to the Mecca of shopping nirvana.

Just as I’m about to sink into the driver’s seat, my mother appears with an overstuffed diaper bag, along with a bloated backpack, and she’s schlepping the baby in his bulky carrier down the rain-slicked stairs. Maybe she wants me to take Beau as a punishment for running away?

I rush over and help before she twists an ankle and cracks someone’s skull open, namely Beau’s. God forbid I have to do a Celestra-based infusion right here on the front lawn for all the Counts in question to witness. If Tad knew how valuable my blood was, I’m sure he’d add another beverage to the moronic business venture he’s climbing into with the crazy Kraggers. 

“What’s going on?” I pant as my mother makes her way over to the minivan.

“I’m going on a little vacation. I just need to get my head settled, that’s all,” she confesses while strapping Drake’s bundle of boy-joy into the van in a five-way harness. 

“A vacation?”

“I’ll be staying at a friend’s,” she’s quick to accommodate.

“Does said friend happen to live in an overgrown house that eats small shanties like this one for breakfast?” Literally.

“Skyla…” She sighs. “Yes, I’ll be staying with Demetri. I’ll be back before the weekend and I suggest you come with me.”

Right.

“No thanks. I’ll be staying at a friend’s myself.”

“Brielle’s?” She ticks her head with a hint of concern.

“Not that one.” And only because I don’t want to deal with the baby drama, or the fact I might be pressed to leer out the window all night, wondering if Gage is making his nightly appearance in the butterfly room to entertain someone other than me.

“The Oliver’s.” She gives a knowing blink. “You are not allowed to share a room with Gage—with any boy for that matter. I’ll call Emma later and see if this is OK. If it’s not, I expect to see you at the estate by nine. I’m not playing games, Skyla. My life is a big enough mess as it is. I don’t need you adding to the clutter.”

“Right,” I say, artfully avoiding the fact the friend I have in mind is Marshall.

“Skyla…” She leans in. “I promise you, I’ll fix this chaos by summer’s end. There’s no way I’m going to let anything ruin your senior year.”

Chloe catches my eye. She’s texting someone from the front porch, most likely her accomplice in prophylactic crime—Gage.

“You won’t ruin my senior year,” I say.