Marshall straightens, his lips purse.
“OK, I wasn’t really thinking ‘skank,’ I believe the exact phrase that came to mind was Little Ms. Corset.” I step into him and run my finger down the slick of his tie.
A clanging sound emits from the kitchen.
“What was that noise?”
“What noise?” His brows rise with amusement because he so knows what the hell that noise was.
A hard bite of something pungent yet familiar wafts through the air.
“What’s that smell?” I don’t wait for him to respond. Instead, I pull Marshall along by the tie until we stumble into his colossal cooking facility, which happens to house exactly what I feared most—Marlena.
She drags her dark eyes over my person, slow and disapproving. She’s wearing a black lace dress with red satin shining underneath—yet more non-chic from her signature call girl collection.
She smirks in my direction. “I thought you said you’d get rid of her?” She sneers before sautéing whatever unfortunate creature Marshall caught in the yard for their meal.
“Did you say that?” I give his tie a hard yank.
“Careful.” He pulls the steel grey strap from my grasp. “I said no such thing.” He shoots daggers over at her.
Ha! He’s giving her the angry eyes. I knew Marshall would never say that about me.
“What’s she doing here?” I whisper as the mystery meat sizzles in the pan.
“I’ve a portal open. She and a few of the girls have decided to extend their visit.” Marshall gleams under the duress of my jealousy. He’s relishing my panicked state of being. I can tell.
“Close the portal,” I say it sharply.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that.”
“Why the heck not?” I hiss just this side of yelling.
“It’s her final night back home. She’s heartbroken over the fact her lover was taken to the tower. In just a few hours she’ll….” He twitches his brows.
“Wait a minute…” I back the hell out of the kitchen and yank Marshall with me. “You said she had the
black-death
. I thought that was the primary reason she took a swan dive off Dover.”
“Indeed, the diving takes place just as you suggest. She always did have a flare for the dramatic. The trip to Paragon has done her such good. Of course, she won’t be formally diagnosed until later this evening. Needless to say, she doesn’t take the news well.”
“Marshall!” I swat him over the arm. “That woman has the freaking
plague!
You can’t let her run around Paragon. In fact, you’d better get rid of every last one of them just to be safe.”
“The curse is confined, Skyla.” He flexes a dissatisfied smile. In fact, the longer she remains on the island, the longer her life is extended. I’m simply doing a friend a favor.” He peers down at me, gauging my response.
“You’re trying to make me jealous,” I whisper.
“Is it working?”
I suck in another quick breath and smack him over the stomach again.
Marlena comes out with a frying pan in hand and tsks over at us.
“She beats you?” She scoffs at me while landing her dish on the counter. “My how the mighty have fallen. I’ll have you know, women throw themselves at him and beg for Master Dudley to have his way with them.”
“Oh, they still do,” I assure Chloe’s doppelganger. “Only now he’s referred to as
schoolmaster
Dudley, and he much prefers the girls to beat
him
.”
“A paddling, eh?” She gives a quick wink. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“I’m going to be sick.” It takes all of my strength not to hurl at the thought of Marlena wielding a whip. “Look, I’m here for the dress.”
“What dress?” Marshall looks perplexed.
“You know, homecoming is tomorrow. I didn’t shop for a dress because I figured you’d have something from your freaky fashion collection all ready and rearing to go.”
“Freaky fashion collection?” Marshall gives an exasperated blink. “Presumptuous aren’t we?”
“You really don’t have anything for me to wear?” That heavy metal number he gave me last year, which was both backless and bottomless, still hangs in my closet. I guess technically I can recycle.
“I might have something you can wrap around yourself for the evening.” Marlena tries to look wide-eyed and innocent just the way Chloe does before she chops someone’s head off.
“No thanks.” I’m not really a germaphobe, but I’m pretty sure there aren’t enough bottles of coagulated rubbing alcohol to cure the disease she’s breeding. I don’t care if Marshall says her curse is contained on her little jaunt to the future. Just the thought grosses me out.
“Oh, come and have a look.” She gives a sly wink over at Marshall as though the two of them had been planning this all along.
We follow Marlena upstairs to the room next door to Marshall’s, and a tiny part of me is relieved she hasn’t taken up residency in his private boudoir.
“This.” She plucks a short dress from the closet. It’s red up top with spaghetti straps then blooms into a simple black skirt that flares on the sides. A circle of rhinestones is set at the waist, and I pull it forward to examine it.
“Wow, those are some sparklers,” I muse. “They really knew how to make nice rhinestones back then, didn’t they?” But the dress is rather meh. “No thanks. I think I’ll pass.”
Take the dress
,
Skyla
. Marshall nods with a pleasant smile.
I shake my head. “I’m not really into it. Sorry,” I say to her. “Not everyone can pull off that whole red and black theme like you can.” Except maybe Chloe and Satan. I’m sensing a pattern here.
“Then perhaps this one is more to your liking?” She pulls out a purple and black corset with an overgrown tutu attached.
“Actually.” I hold it out. There’s something definitely hot going on here with the deep purple and black lace, the barely-there tulle that stops mid-thigh. “I’ll take it!”
“Perfect.” Her eyes light up as if she, herself, were going to the dance.
“Anyway,” I whisper. “I’d better go.”
Marshall speeds me out of the room and over to his palatial hideaway.
“What’s with the dress?” I shake it in front of him accusingly.
“Let’s just say you’re in for one enchanted evening,” he says, locking the door to his bedroom. “And this dress will ensure you do it in style.”
“Fine.” I make a face at it. “So far none of your dresses have killed me. But I’ll go it alone for prom. I can’t risk a debacle like this again. There’s a certain degree of humility involved when digging for a dress out of
your
ex-girlfriend’s closet. This takes ‘out of date’ to a whole new level.” A thought comes to me. “Did you talk to my mother?”
“I did. The Kraggers’ trial is proceeding at an expedited rate. You’ve earned a reasonable place on their least desirable list. Translation, you’re not their favorite person.”
“Never was.” I swallow hard at the thought of having the Kraggers upset with me.
“Your mother has agreed to see you.”
“Really?” I jump up and down before latching onto him. I kiss Marshall on the cheek. Those feel good vibrations grip me like a live current, and I can’t seem to disconnect. “When?” I pull back still out of breath.
“In just a few minutes.”
“Tonight?” I spring up and wrap my legs around his midsection totally psyched at the thought of finally getting some answers—not to mention begging for Logan’s life.
“In a few minutes
her
time. That would be two weeks for you.”
“Two weeks?” Crap. I slide into my dismount.
“On your birthday to be exact.”
“Lovely.” I wrap my arms around Marshall’s waist. “The truth is, I’m terrified to see her. Things never end well after a visit with dear old
Mom
.”
“This is very true.” Marshall presses me in by the small of my back and rocks us side to side as if we were dancing.
“Help me think of a way to get that pendent back. I beg of you. I’ll do anything you want. I need to save you, Marshall.”
He pushes out a despondent smile. “She must gift it to you.”
“Chloe said she’d rather die than gift it to me.”
“Maybe someone needs to call her bluff?”
“Maybe I do.”
***
A swirl of pink and purple clouds taunt us from up above on this, the late afternoon of homecoming. It was an official senior ditch day but still pretty lame overall since we spent it at school decorating the trucks that belong to some of the guys on the football team. I guess the floats they’ve used in the past had some mechanical breakdown, but Logan, Gage, and about six other guys offered to have their gas-guzzlers emasculated with paper flowers in order to save the day.
“I’m going to need to buy new tires and a lube job just to get it to forgive me for this,” Gage laments as I attach a string of royal blue and white carnations to the passenger door.
The grey day brings out his eyes like twin sirens.
“I’ll try to use the least amount of flowers possible,” I offer. I can’t help but redirect my gaze in his direction. I’m heartbroken that he’s pulled out of the race for my affection, and I’m beyond devastated that Logan is dead. Nothing ever seems to go right for any of us where love is concerned.
“It’s like I’ve forced it to put on high heels.” Gage is still clearly upset over the fact he’s allowing his truck to cross-dress. “Sorry dude.” He knocks his knuckles over the hood in an effort to console it.
Logan comes up and admires the violation of Gage’s penis extension.
“You can’t pride the ride, man.” Logan slaps him on the back.
“Easy for you to say.” Gage glares over at Logan’s truck. “You’ve got Cerberus strapped to your bed.”
It’s true. Ms. Richards produced an oversized blow up of the three-headed beast that she picked up on special right after Halloween. Not only that, but Ellis put a Mohawk on the front of Logan’s cab and miniature silver cones all around it to give it that spiked effect. Logan’s ride is twelve different kinds of badass while Gage’s transport looks fit for the New Year’s Day parade.
“So, what happened last night?” Logan leans against the truck and accidentally unhitches the entire row of flowers I just spent the last fifteen minutes meticulously adhering. “Any grave robbing take place?”
“Chloe must have blew it off once I split.” There’s no way I’m telling them I sought shelter at Marshall’s. “Giselle said Chloe took her home after that, and Kate’s grave was none the wiser that it was about to be ransacked.”
Gage pans the field for a moment. “I hung out until about nine and finally took off. I’m a little shocked she gave up so easy.”
“Yeah well”—I spot her heading in this direction—“she doesn’t give up so easy. But I’m sure once she saw I wasn’t falling into her trap, she hung up her crowbar.”
“Skyla.” Chloe pops up through the fog like the demonic apparition she’s destined to be. “We need a car to lead the procession, something classic and cool like your ‘
stang
. You mind?”
I glance over at Logan and Gage. “I don’t mind.”
“Perfect. Haul it over, and get that flower power going on,” she says before heading back to bark out orders to unsuspecting seniors. Chloe is in her element as the fearless leader of the floral fiasco taking place.
“I’m leading the parade!” I squeal into Logan and Gage. “I’d better get the car.” I shove the tape and bucket full of fake carnations over to Gage. “We’ve got less than an hour before the game.”
I waste no time in pulling the Mustang onto the field. Brielle and the rest of the squad help me decorate while Logan and Gage both stand to the side. Poor Gage looks as if someone just punched him in the neck. I’m going to have to do something extra nice to make this up to him.
“Geez”—Bree makes a face—“you’d think this stuff never came off the way he’s mourning the degradation.” She shakes her head. “Guys and their toys. It’s like they’ve got their balls wrapped up in the steering wheel. Speaking of balls”—she bites down on her lip—“did you pick one yet?”
“No. It’s not like they’re puppies, Brielle. Although, if I had to choose between three cute puppies, I might have just as hard a time.” I leave out the part about Logan being dead and me sort of seeing him again under those dismal conditions. I’m pretty sure I can get my mother to reverse the situation.
“Oh, that’s right.” She shakes her head. “I keep forgetting Dudley’s in the equation. You should totally choose either Logan or Gage and have an affair with Dudley on the side. He’s more of the ‘light your sheets on fire’ type rather than boyfriend material. Hey, maybe Logan and Gage won’t mind sharing you, either? I mean technically, it’s already happening. Right?”
“Wrong.” Like I’m going to listen to Brielle again. I believe I could pin the entire Halloween kiss off, square on her oversexed shoulders.
“Oh, come on,” she chides. “Any girl would want to.”
“That’s the problem, I’m not a girl anymore.” That girl who lived inside of me died in the war right alongside Logan. “Anyway, how are things between you and Drake?”
“Weird.” She shrugs. “But that’s to be expected. He’s taking Emily to the dance tonight”—she makes a face—“but he did say if she puked, he’d totally switch over to me.”
“Nice.” He’s such a freaking moron.
“So, who scored a date with the ever elusive Skyla Messenger?”
“Um, I’m actually going with Logan.”
“Oh?” She belts out a devious laugh.
“Messenger,” Michelle barks, doing her best imitation of Chloe.
“
What
?”
She holds up two circular rings that scream ode to glitter. “I’m putting these crowns in your trunk until the end of the ceremony.”
“Go ahead.” I roll my eyes. “Anyway”—I revert to Brielle—“Logan and I are sort of back together,” I whisper, and an overwhelming feeling of grief penetrates me before I can get the story off the ground. I glance back and catch a glimpse of Gage as he talks to some of the guys from the team. “Never mind. I’m not ready to have this conversation.” Not now, not ever.
***
Evening comes and bears down on us, stiff and cold, like a corpse in a mausoleum. The game drones on like only football can, with West on the losing end of the stick.