Ethereal Knights Page 4

  I clean up and head downstairs. My senses light up with the scent of sugar and spice and all things delicious as only my mother can make.

  “Cinnamon rolls.” My favorite.

  “How was last night? Did the clothes afford you any luck with the ladies?” Dad glances up from his medical journal, the glasses ready to slide off his nose.

  Mom stops washing dishes to inspect me as they both await my answer. You’d think it was a miracle around here if I even mentioned a girl, let alone went out with one.

  “Last night was great.” I plop down next to Logan as Mom charges at me with a glazed bun the size of my fist and a tall glass of milk. I’m pretty sure I’m not addressing my “luck with the ladies.” I only want one, and my horseshoe seems to be misfiring at the moment because she’s hung up on the wrong person.

  Logan offers a shit-eating grin that suggests way more about his night than I ever wanted to know.

  “And how was your night?” Dad gives a placid smile to Logan as if he expects the truth.

  I know the truth. He and Skyla pulled a disappearing act at the very same time. His truck was out of the driveway by ten, and wasn’t back until well after one.

  “Excellent.” He bites down on his fork and shoots me a look.

  Dad chuckles, readjusting his glasses. “I see we’ve gone from an unenthusiastic ‘great,’ to an exuberant ‘excellent.’ Sounds like the two of you experienced the evening on the opposite ends of the spectrum.”

  “Well…” Mom smooths her hand over her napkin. “I’m just glad you’re both sitting here. I’m always thrilled to see your smiling faces in the morning. So much can go wrong these days, I just—”

  “Emma.” Dad lowers his chin in an effort to pluck her off the inbound train of torment and worry.

  Logan slides into a lazy half-smile. He’s got that same stupid look on his face he gets before inflicting a little good-natured teasing. Although, by the way my gut is clenching, I can tell it’s not going to feel so “good-natured” after all.

  “You don’t look too happy, Gage.” Logan gives a light kick to my shin from underneath the table. “Dare I say, only one of us here is smiling?” He pumps out a giant grin.

  “Is something wrong?” Mom is quick to assess the damage by touching her hand to my forehead. “You’re a little warm.”

  “Yeah.” I glare over at Logan. “I’m getting a little hot under the collar.”

  “Step outside, sweetheart,” she suggests. “It’ll do you some good.”

  “I hear letting out some aggression works wonders, too.” Logan’s chest heaves as he swallows down a laugh. “One quick, passionate burst of energy detonating from you should do it.” He holds my stare as his lips curve into a devilish grin. “Sometimes, all you need is a quick release and all seems right with the world.”

  Release?

  Figures. Logan can’t get his mind out of the gutter for one fucking minute.

  Dad rolls his eyes before excusing himself, and Mom follows him into the entry, saying something about a meeting later this week.

  “You release some tension last night?” I shoot the words out like a dart. “Is that what you want me to believe? Because I don’t for a second think she’s the kind of girl who would lie down for you.” Not on the first night, anyway.

  I swallow hard at whatever the hell is about to pop out of his mouth. Here it is, the moment of truth.

  “No, she’s not.”

  Everything in me exhales with relief.

  He pulls his lips in a line. “Heard Michelle was asking about you last night.”

  “Really?” Not buying it.

  “No, not really.” He rumples his napkin before tossing it at me. “But maybe she did. You never know, right? Rumor has it she’s passing out blowjobs like Halloween candy. She’ll dethrone Bree by homecoming. Why don’t you call her?”

  I shake my head as that dream comes back to me—Skyla holding my hand, happy to be with me on a moonlit beach.

  “Gage.” He lowers his head, still looking at me with that I’m-sorry-for-you expression plastered to his face. “Don’t do this.”

  “Do what?” It comes out bored, as if I didn’t really care what he had to say next.

  “Don’t get hung up on someone who’s not into you.” He says it sincerely, as if he’s trying to dispense some fatherly advice. “What about that girl you’re always harping about?” He presses his lips together and nods as if I should consider this. “How would she feel if you went after some other chick while she was trying to make her way to you?”

  He’s bringing up the visions I’ve shared with him, and oddly enough, it doesn’t feel like he’s mocking me—more like trying to get me to go along with it in a desperate attempt to keep my mind off Skyla.

  “You’ve got some balls.” I raise my milk and offer an impromptu toast in his direction.

  He gets up and pats me on the shoulder. “Keep admiring them, my friend.” He takes off for the stairs. “My cojones are a sight to behold.”

  A dry laugh rattles out of me.

  Little does he know, the girl from my dreams and Skyla Messenger are one in the same.

  4

  Logan

  Secrets and Soulmates

  I’m pulling an eternal shift at the bowling alley today. Swear to God I should set up a cot in the back. I don’t know why I bother going home, especially in the summer when I’ve got this place strapped to my back like a bomb.

  All morning and into the listless afternoon, I think about that conversation with Gage—the fact he’s clearly not backing down from pursuing Skyla when he knows I’ve already taken a step in the right direction with her. It’s not like him. It spooks me, and I don’t like to be spooked. Not like this, and not with Gage on the other side of the relational equation.

  Brielle darts in, holding someone up beside her.

  Gage swoops in on the two of them so quick it’s hard to make out the injured party. Probably Michelle, still hungover from last night. I head over to find Skyla with her face swollen and bruised, her lip split and bleeding on the side.

  “Shit.” I help her into a chair and bolt to the kitchen for a bag of ice.

  I rush back to her side and evict Gage so I can sit next to her, blotting her lip with the ice pack when all I want to do is hold her, and tell her everything will be okay. Brielle relays the story about how the “bitch squad” appointed themselves as the welcoming committee by way of flying fists.

  Skyla lands her fingers over my arm before giving a gentle squeeze. I glance over at Gage and catch him eyeing her hand as she traces out my forearm. The hurt on his face is obvious for everyone to see, and it kills me.

  A sad smile hedges on my lips as I look back down at Skyla. You’ll live. Stay away from those girls. They’re mostly trouble.

  She blinks up at me with those innocent doe eyes. They said I stole Chloe’s boyfriend. Did I? Her face lights up like a furnace at the idea.

  “What’s up with all the stargazing and silence?” Brielle doesn’t bother to hide the fact she’s pissed. “If you die in your sleep because you have a concussion, it’s literally on your head, missy.”

  “Points to you for sounding like my mother,” Skyla says, taking up my hand in the process.

  Brielle drills a hole through Skyla with her bourgeoning anger. There’s an entire stream of words trying to choke their way out of Bree’s throat, instead, she bolts over to the bathroom like her hair is on fire.

  Was it something I said? Her eyes widen at Brielle’s abrupt departure.

  Gage stirs in his seat. His body language alone clues me in on the fact he too is about to erupt like a three-year-old, although for other reasons entirely.

  “Look—” Gage growls. And here we go. “If you guys are going to do this, find a booth in the back where people can’t see you.”

  He stomps off toward the kitchen, and I fight the urge to go over and tell him to chill the hell out because he’s starting to get under my skin. Why can’t
he let this go? He’s got his dream girl, and I’ve got mine.

  Are you sure Gage can’t do this? I mean, you are related. She drags her eyes off of him, and a part of me is worried she’s starting to soften to his dark, enchanting ways.

  I let down my walls so she can hear me, loud and clear. No, I assure. He knows about it. Wouldn’t take my hand if it meant getting out of a burning building. He’s mastered other tricks, though—far more useless, I assure you.

  What do you mean, other tricks? she asks. Logan, tell me what this is. Is it some sort of genetic defect? Why can I do this? Why do we have this ability?

  I glance over to the kitchen where Gage pretends like he’s not trying to watch our every move. I pull my hand away from hers and drop it under the table. The last thing I want to do is stick a knife through my nephew’s heart today or any other day.

  “I want to,” I whisper. “Not here, though.”

  “Why not? Nobody will know. We can do it in secret.”

  “Really?” Brielle lands back at the table, looking good and pissed. “Why not right here on the table? I don’t think anyone will notice at all.”

  “Not that.” Skyla closes her eyes for a moment and tips her head back seductively without trying. Her neck looks prime for a bite, and I’m more than willing to sink my teeth into her. “Are you okay?” She reaches over to Brielle.

  “It’s just hard sometimes.” Bree shoots me a look, and I know where this is going. “Chloe’s been on my mind, and it’s gone from bad to worse.” And there it is.

  “Chloe was your friend,” I whisper over to her. I’m a little apprehensive to say Chloe’s name out loud—as if that alone has the power to reanimate her from the grave. “It’s okay to miss her.”

  Skyla drops her gaze. This can’t be easy for her either since she sleeps in Chloe’s old bedroom. That’s one mindfuck I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

  “I know.” Brielle dabs a wad of tissues into her face. “She did have the bad habit of hanging out with Em, Michelle, and Lexy. They weren’t always the triune anything. She was the one who tempered them, and now, without her, they’ve gone feral. It’s like their wickedness unleashed the second Chloe disappeared.”

  Not sure I would agree, but I’ll go with it for now.

  Skyla sits up at attention. “Disappeared?”

  “She went missing for two weeks.” Brielle leans in and whispers it like a dirty little secret. “Nobody knows what happened. Coroner says her body was thrashed when they found her”—she lowers her lashes—“she had these strange cuts all over.” Brielle stares out at the lane straight ahead with a catatonic gaze.

  “Cuts?” Skyla asks, trying to wrap her head around the idea. Her eyes magnify with fear, and I suddenly have the urge to duct tape Brielle’s mouth shut. “Maybe they were scrapes from branches?” Skyla seems desperate for a plausible solution. “Like she was trying to escape.”

  Shit. Brielle has her all worked up. I’m sure she won’t sleep for a year. Brielle is inadvertently brewing a disaster that only a psychiatrist and a real estate agent will be able to cure.

  “Deep incisions.” Brielle croaks. “Her mom said it looked barbaric, like she was used as some kind of science experiment. They think maybe somebody tortured her.”

  Nice work, Bree. I shoot her a look.

  “Dear God.” Skyla nearly falls out of her chair from shock.

  I feel horrible about what happened to Chloe, but I don’t think spooking Paragon’s newest resident, who happens to live at the old Bishop house, is going to make things better.

  I pull the ice from Skyla’s lip and break up the bag, trying to derail her thoughts from the trajectory of terror Brielle launched her down. Skyla looks horrified, like some deranged lunatic is about to rush her with a shiny new ax. Not that I can guarantee it won’t happen, but I’ll make damn sure she’s safe. Gage isn’t the only one with a trick up his sleeve. A freaking bird. I shake my head.

  “Listen”—Skyla takes in a breath like she’s coming up for air—“if I can convince my parents to let me have a party will you come?”

  A smile buds on my lips. “Of course.” Sounds like the perfect time and place to get those blood samples Barron recommended.

  “I mean, just you guys and”—she glances back at Bree—“Drake will be there. Kate and Nat can come. My mom has this thing about my stepbrother meeting people. I know she’ll be okay with it.” She gives a mournful smile as if she were reliving a bad memory.

  “Sounds good.” I pick up her hand, low by her thigh so Gage won’t see. But I can’t tell you in a room full of people. We need to be alone—just you and me.

  Tell me now. No one will know.

  Alone.

  Am I going to freak out when I hear it?

  I erect the shroud that barricades her from my thoughts.

  You don’t think I can handle it, do you? She knits her brows together, and I want to soothe her with my lips right here in the bowling alley.

  It’s not that I don’t think you can’t handle it. I say it with as much tenderness I can afford. Once you realize who you are, you won’t ever get a chance to go back.

  Who am I?

  Skyla. The girl who launched a thousand boners in the Oliver family alone, but I don’t share that part with her.

  Not funny, she says. I don’t scare easy.

  You’re lying. I pull my lips to the side. Chloe’s ghost can testify to that.

  You’re saying it’ll frighten me?

  I give a slight nod. It will, and it should.

  Gage

  On the night of Skyla’s party, I wait out on the driveway for Logan so we can take off and I can get the rejection out of the way for the evening. That’s what it’s starting to feel like with Skyla and me—hopeless.

  Up above, the clouds weigh heavy and brooding as if they’re about to unleash all unholy hell. A raven spins in the sooted sky. Nevermore. He’s my residual gift from Chloe—perhaps the only good thing that came from her obsession with me. She impressed him with my blood and now we’re bonded until I croak or decide to gift him to someone else.

  I toss a pebble in the air at Nev and watch as he tries to catch it in his beak. He swoops down to earth with his wings flapping in and out like a cape, landing with a thud on my shoulder. I yank the stone from his mouth.

  “You did it.” I jerk my shoulder until he bounces onto the hood of Logan’s truck. The last thing I need today is Nev taking a crap on me. I pull on a grey flannel over my T-shirt. Girl’s swears this color brings out the Pacific Ocean in my eyes, and I’m trolling the bottom of the barrel for Skyla’s attention. I toss the pebble in the air again, and Nev turns his head as if he didn’t see it. Lazy bird.

  “Watch over her, dude,” I whisper. “Keep an eye on her at all times. This one’s special.” I flick my finger and Nev takes off in the direction of Skyla’s house.

  Skyla’s house—it’s really Chloe’s house, or at least it was. God knows I logged my fair share of hours there doing who knows what. Actually, I do know what I was doing and for whom. Maybe someday I’ll get to share that with Skyla. It’s definitely nothing I want to mention before we pass go, so I put it out of my mind and try to forget about it.

  Skyla Messenger can make me forget just about anything. I really think Chloe would have liked her once she got to know her. Hell—for that matter, I’d like to get to know Skyla. I wouldn’t mind some one-on-one time with her in the butterfly room. That could be our place—just Skyla and me.

  In my mind’s eye, it plays out like a movie. I envision Skyla sitting on my lap, stripping off her sweater nice and slow. I reach back and unbuckle her bra, run my tongue down her neck right between her chest until she tips her head back and groans.

  Logan smacks me in the arm, yanking me from my fantasy long before I’m ready.

  “Dude,” he snipes. “You got a fucking hunting knife in your jeans? Pull it together, would you?” He unlocks his truck, and a crow screams from the sound of the horn going off. “A
nd would you stop thinking about Skyla?”

  “Yes, sir.” I salute him with my middle finger as he hops in the truck. I teleport into the passenger’s seat and give a wry smile once he arrives.

  “So, what’s the game plan?” I run my fingers through my hair, checking my reflection in the mirror.

  “I’m going to suck her blood.” He holds up a vial before slipping it back in his jeans.

  “You think she’s Celestra, huh?” Just another thing pretty boy and Skyla have in common. My stomach turns at the thought.

  “I know she is. You know what the best part is?”

  “She can see what a douche you are, inside and out?” I tease.

  Not really. It’ll probably only magnify the fact that deep down, Logan Oliver is one of the nicest guys Skyla could ever hope to know—and that’s too fucking bad for me.

  “You’re funny.” He takes the turn outside the estates a little wide, and I hold onto the grab bar. “No, I just keep thinking about how intense it’ll be with her.” He says it quiet—serious, and it sends every cell in my body on red alert. He’s going to do it. He’s going to make a move on the girl I’m supposed to be with. I don’t get it. If I’m feeling it—if the visions confirm everything I know is true—then why on earth is Skyla the last person to get with the program?

  I glance over at Logan and sink in my seat as a horrible realization sets in. Maybe, just maybe, Logan has been a part of the big picture all along.

  ***

  Logan and I picked up a pizza on the way to the party. We pull up to the Bishop’s old place and park in the driveway, both of us settling our gaze on the overgrown cabin, mesmerized to be back under such different circumstances.

  “Old school, huh?” Logan slaps my shoulder, startling me out of my daze. “It’s not her house anymore. It’s Skyla’s. That’s how we have to look at it. Wipe the slate clean. There’s someone new in our lives. It’s not Skyla’s fault Chloe died.”