“So, what are you doing in town, Dom?” I offer my own smug smile at the use of the flirty little nickname Demetri giftedher.
Her hair flickers like a flame as she ticks her head slightly my way. It’s as if she’s a wind-up doll and swift staccato movements are all she’s capable of, and knowing Demetri, this might actually be the case. Her skin is smoother than porcelain, and her face has a mannequin-esque quality that I can’t quite put my finger on. Something about her—I’ve seen that look before—but not on amannequin.
A gasp gets locked in my throat. A corpse!Gah! Yes, that’s it! She’s got that whole I’ve just been embalmed by the best, half-past deceased glow about her. (The best being Barron Senior. Nobody wields embalming fluid like my father-in-law.) My heart sinks because it doesn’t quite feel like he’s my anythinganymore.
“What am Idoing?” Dominique squares her gaze over me as if I were a spider than needing to be dealt with by the wrong end of her stiletto. I can tell by her tone I’ve managed to vex her. I’m not too sorry about it either. “I’ve lived on this island longer than you’ve roamed the planet.” Her voice cuts through the air like razor wire, and an odd tension springs up in itswake.
Demetri clears his throat my way as if he were attempting to manage me, and I almost want to laugh. If anything, he’s the one who needs to be managed. Who does he think he is hauling this hussy over and flaunting her in front of my mother? Not to mention the fact she’s flat outrude.
“Impressive. I haven’t seen you around. I guess Paragon does like to keep her secrets.” I glance down at my phone to find Mia and Melissa in my bedroom stealing kisses from the boys. And before I can say a single rotten thing about Emma, she pops up on the screen as well and my sisters scatter like birds. Figures. Even they can’t stand her. “I’d better run. My sitter is here and, apparently, there’s a new year to be ushered in.” Truthfully, I’m a little bummed I’ll be missing the rest of The Dominatrix Show. Judging by that clearly pissed expression on my mother’s face, there will be fireworks at the Landons’ first social bash afterall.
“Lizbeth”—Dominique ignores my trivial excuse to ditch the senior center this place is quickly morphing into and steps in toward my mother—“Demetri has told meallabout you.” A dull laugh rattles through her chest as she razes my mother with a scathing sweep of the eyes. Dear God, what did that vile villain say? “You are every bit the fragile little bird, aren’tyou?”
My mouth opens, and just as I’m about to tell this redheaded heathen off, a body swoops in behind me—Bree.
“It’s time to get our groove on, little mama!” Brielle’s hair is a freshly dyed darker version of red tonight. She’s been blonde for so long I’m half-convinced Dom here has duplicated herself for a moment and is doing her best to get rid of me. But it’s clear Bree is determined to start the new year off with a redheaded bang, and I can’t blame her. It’s a good look onher.
“Just one second.” I stutter on my heels as Tad yanks on his tie, his eyes still very much plastered on the new object of hisaffection.
Tad squints into the queen of evil hearts. “Come to think of it, I’ve seen you around a time ortwo.”
“I run the apothecary.” She smirks at him as if he were a rat that just crawled from muddy waters. “But perhaps you know me from the picture the paper ran of my family thismorning.”
“Aha! That’s where I’ve seen you!” Tad slaps his thigh, and a cracking sound echoes throughout the room. Dear God, don’t break a leg over this apothecary dominating demon. And who the hell runs an apothecary? It’s obvious Demetri’s hauled a witch into our midst. If my mother is wise, she’ll tie her to a stake and burn her at midnight. She should hogtie Demetri while she’s at it. Cleansing the island of all its evil sounds like a great way to start the newyear.
I break out of Bree’s grip for a moment and step in close to the wicked witch. “Tad is the only person on the planet who reads the paper. What wereyoudoing in it?” It comes out far more accusatory than I meant it, but hell, I meant it. Besides, I have a feeling the only good that can come from that paper is if this rotten fish was wrapped init.
“Skyla!” my mother balks as if it took my brazenness to breathe her back to life. “Excuse my daughter. She suffers from a severe lack of sleep.” She wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a rattle. “The things that come out of this girl’s mouth”—she chortles—“it’s sleep deprivation at itsfinest!”
Dominique grunts at this measly sleep deprived excuse. “My daughter was killed by a sleep deprived motorist on Christmas Eve, right here on the corner of your very street.” She bares her sharp, glistening fangs at my mother for a moment as if it were her fault this horrible tragedy happened. “But she’s betternow.”
Better? Sounds like Dom isn’t the only reanimated corpse in thefamily.
“That’s nice,” Breeinterrupts.
Misty and Beau saunter in with their hair covered in something brown and greasy that smells like shitand—
Everyone in a square mile sucks in a breath atonce.
“Mee-Maw!” Beau sings with pride. “Misty made poo poo in my hay!”Hayis as close tohairas little Beau gets these days, and after this craptastic fiasco, he’ll be lucky if every inch ofhayisn’t shaved off beforemidnight.
“We’ll catch you later!” Bree sails me out the door faster than I can protest. “We’ve got a party to hit, and we need to leave now if we plan on waking the deadourselves!”
“Wait!” I try to stop Bree’s stronghold on me, but it’s too late. We’re down the porch and in the minivan where an irritated Drake cusses up a storm over the fact we’re missing all the fat blunts. Freaking Ellis has infiltrated the Landon frontlines. Drake is a certified card-carrying midnighttoker.
My mind drifts back to my poor mother. Although, I can’t help but think that Misty and Beau’s crap-infested heads are a metaphor for my mother’s obsession withDemetri.
“That woman’s daughter,” I say mostly to myself since Bree is cussing right back at Drake at top volume. “She’s the one that Gage saved at the morgue.” I’m not quite suresaveis the correct terminology, but still, she’s back from the dead. Melody Winters—DominiqueWinters.
I text Marshall and tell him to meet me at the party. There are two no-good reasons I need to speak withhim.
The fog billows over the island in large vats of white powder. It’s cold enough to snow, but Paragon is too stubborn to give such a spectacular show. She likes it dark and damp. She likes turning the roads into wet, slick tongues that inspire cars to spin out—wet enough to send a girl straight through the windshield and into theafterlife.
Yes, winter has arrived on Paragon and dragged its wicked namesake right along withit.
Something rotten this waycomes.
In fact, I have a feeling it’s alreadyarrived.
