Celestra Series Books 1-3 Page 8

  “A train?” Mia squeals into Melissa’s face as if Santa himself were going to be on it.

  “Cool.” Drake pours the remainder of milk into his bowl without missing a beat.

  “Have fun.” The thought of having the house to myself for the weekend sounds more than delicious.

  “We will have fun—with you.” My mother chides. “This is non-negotiable.”

  “If she’s not going I’m not going,” Drake says with a full mouth.

  “Oh no, he’s definitely going. I’m not staying in the house alone with him.” I’m sure he’ll have Brielle over the second they hit the bottom of the driveway. I’m not interested in bearing witness to another fuck-fest.

  “You’re both going,” Tad bellows. “Everybody get ready. We want to try and make the afternoon ferry.” He gathers his briefcase off the kitchen counter and heads upstairs.

  “I’m not going,” I say, looking dead on at my mother. If she really wants a challenge I’ll give her one.

  “Why, Skyla? Why?” She doesn’t bother hiding her exasperation.

  Mia and Melissa amble upstairs in a frenzy of excitement.

  “Because…” I pause considering my options. “I’m on my period.” I give a sly smile over to Drake while my mother goes over and busies herself in the kitchen. “Monster, debilitating cramps,” I groan, clutching at my abdomen.

  “Gross.” Drake does a magnificent disappearing act.

  “Do you really have monster cramps?” She stops short of scrubbing the granite counter raw.

  “Yes.” I absolutely hate lying with a passion, but if it means getting me off of a seventy-two hour detail with the step monkey—where I would be confined in a glorified casket as we gawk at landscape, I’ll do it.

  “I’d be napping the whole time and…” Tad walks by in the middle of my spiel. “If I’m sleeping in a drug induced coma I can’t appreciate the scenery, and you’ll be wasting all that money on the ferry, not to mention food and lodging.”

  Tad’s ears pull back so far he looks like a rat.

  “You can stay.” He continues to the kitchen.

  “What do you mean, she can stay?” Mom objects.

  “She’s right. She can sleep here for free. It saves us at least a hundred dollars, and face it, we need that hundred dollars.” His posture straightens as he says it.

  Chalk one up for me. I’ll keep his tight-wad ways in mind more often.

  Tad walks back down the hall leaving my mother to penetrate me freely with her hostile lasers.

  “You win,” she says without emotion. “But don’t think you’re any less a member of this family.” She strides past me in a fury, her jeans scissoring up against each other with a loud swish.

  I won.

  I’ll be at that faction meeting tomorrow night, and nobody can stop me.

  20

  Dream

  It takes a small eternity for Tad and Mom to organize the troops, or what’s left of them. By the time the girls and Drake shower they’ve already missed the first ferry, so I have to remain doubled over on the couch a lot longer than anticipated. My mother makes sure I take a pain pill under her watchful supervision because God forbid I should be left alone with a bottle of glorified Aspirin, and yet they don’t lock up the liquor. It doesn’t matter. I don’t drink—hate the flavor—hate the feeling.

  By the time I bolt the door behind them I’m feeling genuinely sleepy so I head on up to my room and crash.

  Chloe comes to me in a dream. It’s that oh crap moment when you realize the dream you’re having, the one that started out perfectly normal, has morphed into a nightmare and now all you want is to do is claw out of it like a cat at the bottom of a hopelessly deep well.

  Skyla. She calls to me down a very long hall. It’s dark, save for the light emanating from an open door. I can see the frame of a woman, dark hair flowing like tendrils. I know it’s her. I can feel it, feel her.

  What do you want? I cry out. This is no vague panic gripping me. There is a very real danger here. My heart jumps in my throat, vibrating tenaciously like a fish out of water. This must be what it feels like to die.

  You have enemies, Skyla. I didn’t think I had them, but I was warned and didn’t listen. If you’re not careful there’s a shallow grave that waits for you.

  That’s not what Gage said. It’s funny how now, in my dream, I’ve accepted him as the final authority over my future.

  I said the grave waited for you. I never said you’d be in it. They want to watch you bleed. She holds out her arm exposing long precision cut gashes. They ran all kinds of experiments on me. They kept my body down there for twelve days. They could keep you a lifetime. They’re not interested in your pain, Skyla. You need to stay away from the Faction Council. And most of all steer clear of Logan. Your life depends on it. Or else everything you know will change. And you’ll spend the rest of your life running.

  Don’t come to me again. I tremble holding onto the wall. It quivers with me. I can feel the vibration trailing up my shoulder.

  If that’s what you wish. Chloe evaporates into nothing more than a smoky film.

  I bolt up out of bed in a sweat, my shirt clinging to me cold as ice.

  Why would she want me to steer clear of Logan? She can’t still want him for herself—she’s dead. Someone needs to refresh the rules of a successful relationship with her. Then again, if I loved Logan and lost him, I wouldn’t be above haunting his new girlfriend. What’s a little nightmare, now and then?

  ***

  Since I’m alone for the very first time ever—I do what any other red-blooded American girl would do, invite my boyfriend over.

  I clean for the next several hours. I had no idea what a freaking mess Mia and Melissa were capable of. They’ve got clothes behind the sofa, under the cushions, a trail of trash that snakes around the entire house, and the downstairs bathroom looks like a cosmetics factory exploded. And by the way, why aren’t Mom and Tad all over their asses for the carnage they’ve create?

  A gentle knock emanates from the door. I smooth down the lace top I borrowed from Brielle last week. I try to push the fact it’s the same top she wore on her sexcapade with Drake out of my mind, but unlike her I’m wearing a bra and not planning on stripping off the first chance I get, or the second.

  “Hi!” I motion for him to come inside.

  Logan is resplendent. He looks polished as a male model. He’s wearing a soft cologne that smells woodsy and sweet like the leaves from a juniper. I can’t resist wrapping my arms around him and landing a soft kiss over his lips. Something warms my chest, so I pull back a bit. He’s holding a white paper bag that smells like Italian food.

  “Dinner.” He holds it up triumphantly.

  I turn on the TV and we sit side by side in the family room eating our eggplant sandwiches.

  “So I had this freaky dream.” A huff of laughter escapes my chest to let him know I totally don’t believe in stuff like that.

  “Tell me all about it.” He sets down his plate and knocks back the rest of his soda.

  “It was about Chloe.” I put it out there.

  He straightens his back against the cushion.

  “It was stupid,” I offer.

  “She say something to you?”

  I wonder if he wants to hear some weepy romantic proclamation—to know that she’s still pining for him on the other side.

  “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  “If she has a message, I’d like to know what it is.” He caresses my hand, clasps our fingers tight.

  “I know what you’re doing.”

  Then tell me.

  “She doesn’t think I should go to the council meeting tomorrow night.”

  And you won’t. Logan looks certain, but more than that, like he won’t allow it.

  “I have a right to be there. Besides she ended it with all this psychobabble about me steering clear of you. Are you happy? She’s trying to meddle in our relationship from the great beyond.”


  “Relationship?” The curve of a smile erases the worry from his forehead.

  Oh God, I used the R word—and to a guy. Next thing you know I’ll be telling him he’s my boyfriend.

  I’ll take that title. He pulls me up over to his lap. No council meeting. Promise?

  “Promise.” I force myself to clear my mind of any unnecessary clutter. Why waste precious time with my new boyfriend when the meeting is an entire twenty-four hours away?

  21

  Unrest

  It’s ten after midnight and Logan is pressing me to let him sleep on the downstairs couch.

  “No.”

  “Why not? Won’t you sleep better knowing I’m down here to protect you?”

  “No. I’ll want to be down here, doing this,” I squeeze my arms tight around his waist. “Then neither of us will get a good night’s rest. Plus I’ll have to lie to my mother again when she asks if any boys stayed over. I’ve met my quota on lying for the month.”

  “That’s noble,” he says without enthusiasm. He gets up off the couch slowly, helping me up in the process. “I open tomorrow.” He presses out a smile. “If you start dying of boredom you’re welcome to join me.”

  “Gee thanks.” I tilt my head to the side in an effort to emphasize my sarcasm. I hadn’t really thought about a job yet. I guess I need to see what kind of load I’m stuck with next semester. I’d hate to be doing my homework on the job.

  “The job’s yours if you want it, and I’ll let you get away with doing your homework on the side.”

  “It creeps me out when you do that.”

  “Only because you keep forgetting. I’m not trying to pry. It’s just out there—loud as speaking.”

  “You’re right. So, anyway, when will I see you?”

  “After my shift I have a two hour window before Gage and I head out to the meeting. What are you going to be up to?”

  “Just hanging out with Bree. Come over before you leave.”

  “You got it.”

  We stand in the doorframe of the moonless night savoring our goodnight kiss. The cool night air breezes past us, circling my bare ankles with its arctic chill.

  Logan heads down the porch on the way to his truck.

  “Remember, I’m just a phone call away,” he says before hopping inside.

  I watch as he backs out of the driveway and disappears down the street.

  ***

  I don’t remember the last time I was alone in a house by myself. It’s one of those things that rarely happens with a busy family like ours. For sure I’ve never been alone at this house. Come to think of it, I’ve never spent the night alone at any house, ever.

  A shiver runs through me as I shut and bolt the door. I’d turn on the heater if I knew how to work it, so much for it being August.

  The hollow of my footsteps echoes off the walls as I make my way back to the family room. I switch the TV off, and the house fills with a deafening silence. It sounds less than natural so I switch it back on and turn down the volume. I’ll leave it on for the night. It’ll make it look like someone’s home, sort of like a safety mechanism. No one in their right mind will want to break in if they think someone’s wide-awake downstairs. Then again, criminals are rarely in their right mind.

  I peer out the window over in the direction of Bree’s house. An entire thicket of overgrown pines, barricades my view. It’s not important. It’s not like seeing a light on over there would have made me feel safer.

  I head up to my bedroom, leaving on all the downstairs lights. Tad will probably have a heart attack when he sees the electric bill, so at least some good will come from this.

  It’s strange how everything looks different, sounds different when there’s nobody in the house but you.

  I head into my bathroom to brush my teeth. I’m far too lazy to take off my makeup or change into my PJ’s. Besides, jeans and a sexy shirt will totally come in handy when I run out the front door screaming.

  A dark figure appears from behind, and I jump, holding out my toothbrush like it’s some diabolical weapon someone might actually fear.

  “Who’s there?” I spit the foam out of my mouth and wipe the excess off my lips with a towel.

  I felt someone there behind me, felt them.

  A loud thump emanates from downstairs, which sends me immediately searching my jeans for my cell.

  “Shit!” I panic. I distinctly remember leaving it in the kitchen next to the sink, which happens to be the most distal point from where I’m standing. And thanks to Tad’s superhuman tightwad capabilities there is no landline in this freaking house!

  A sharp rasping sound rubs against my window and sends me sailing downstairs in a dramatic screaming tirade.

  My heart attempts to jackhammer out of my chest as I speed over to my phone, but it’s gone.

  “Skyla?” My name echoes from behind.

  I freeze.

  In my entire life I have only peed my pants once. I was in the fifth grade, and Laura Henderson my then best friend had me laughing so hard I released a small river of urine going down the steps of where we were seated during lunch. I’ll never forget that feeling, watching helpless as the concrete darkened around me, my shame spreading along with it.

  I turn slow toward the glass back door that leads to a tiny porch. I’ve yet to visit the back of the house, and for all I know there could be an entire cemetery out there.

  A woman with shaggy hair waves at me. Her erratic smile is far too enthusiastic for my liking. I can’t make out her body just the paper white skin of her face. She jumps and her eyes shut tight, her tongue bulging out of her mouth. A brown shredded rope cinches around her neck. It goes straight up past the door, and she starts in on a slow spin as her hair flattens against the glass.

  A violent series of screams sail from my vocal cords.

  I spot my phone on the table and run to the closet and call Brielle.

  22

  Party

  The light from the crack in the curtains tickles me until I shove a pillow over my face and try to continue with the pleasant dream-deprived coma I was experiencing.

  The volume on the TV rises, and I peek from under the pillow to find Brielle munching on a bag of chips with her hair disheveled and mascara smudged down to her cheek.

  “Crazy night,” I say, forcing myself to sit up. “Thanks for coming.”

  As soon as Brielle got here we went straight to the back door to find a bushy red branch had fallen off one of the trees. It must have been an illusion. I was so tired. It couldn’t have been real. Could it?

  “I’ve sent a mass text out, so we should have a ton of people,” she says, playing with her phone.

  “A ton of people?” A part of me is still asleep.

  “At the party. You have anything we could put out for food? Or never mind, I told them nine o’clock so everyone should have eaten by then. My mom has these cool wireless speakers I’ll bring over and hook it up to my iPod. There’s a—”

  “Stop. I’m not having a party. You can mass text everyone back and let them know it’s been canceled.”

  “I can’t do that. Besides, school starts in a few weeks. Doesn’t your mom want you to meet everybody?” She gives a sly grin. “Killing two birds with one stone.”

  “She does.” And doesn’t Logan want me busy tonight so I can’t sneak off to the council meeting? “I guess we’re going to have a party.”

  And I’m going to kill two birds with one stone.

  ***

  Brielle hauls the speakers over, and before I realize it, I’m enjoying the music exploding throughout the house.

  Brielle suggests we leave the lights off and open all the curtains, but it’s pitch black both inside and out, so I pull a bunch of camping lanterns from the garage and set them out all over.

  “Everything looks so cool!” I hold both of Logan’s hands and jump up and down like an idiot in an effort to look convincing. Then I drop them like he’s got the plague and head over to the fro
nt door securing it open for the onslaught. A few kids are already hanging out on the porch, and according to Bree tons more are on the way. I need Logan to believe I’m not going anywhere tonight, that this party is my pet project and that I want nothing more than to oversee the whole thing, which I sort of do. Lousy night to have a faction meeting, if you ask me.

  “So maybe after the meeting, Gage and I will drop by again.” Logan comes over and wraps his arm around my shoulder. As long as he’s not touching my flesh, I don’t have to work so hard on blanking out my mind.

  A crowd wanders in and soon the downstairs fills in with bodies.

  “So how come Brielle spent the night?”

  “I got scared.” I pull a face. I don’t tell him about the woman dangling from a rope out the backdoor. I may be headed for the loony bin, but I don’t need to let the entire world in on my journey.

  “You should have called me.” He pushes into me gently, landing my back flat against the wall. His lips press against mine, and I try to enjoy his wonderful deep kisses while creating a force field of white noise within my mind.

  He pulls back and gives a curious look.

  “What? I can’t enjoy the fruit of your lips?”

  His eyes twitch around the room as though he senses something.

  “What’s wrong?” His expression has me worried. Maybe he detects something or someone left over from the night before.

  “What happened last night?”

  “Nothing. A branch fell down and hit the window. I freaked out.”

  “There’s something else.” He walks through the river of bodies and down to the kitchen. His head turns slowly toward the back door, and his eyes widen with surprise.

  I hide behind his shoulder and peer out carefully. The last thing I want to do is scream like a maniac in front of the entire student body of West Paragon High.