Before I can shake the answer out of him, the door to the Gas Lab bursts open and a rather odd entourage steps in. Melody Winters and a young man around her age are both decked out as if they were headed to a Halloween party. She’s dressed like one of Marshall’s old-world hussies with a long frilly black and pink dress, low-cut in the front—on both top and bottom—and a bustle in the back that makes her ass look as if it’s better suited for a donkey. And he’s wearing—God, he’s dressed like those long-deceased souls in the Transfer. An old-world suit with a string for a tie. Soodd.
The ring on my finger begins to glow like a moonbeam, and I clamp my hand over it in the event it decides to cause a neon scene. But it’s too late. Melody and her old-world cohort speed onover.
“What’s this?” She flicks her finger over my hand—over the glowing morsel of the King’s throne itself, and her jaw goes slack. “Well, well, Sector Marshall. It looks as if we have a time traveling thief on ourhands.”
Gage
Whitehorse waftsin and out of the fog like a dream, like a nightmare. Logan purchased this plot of land in Silent Cove a few years back and built this—some might say monstrosity, some might say tender gesture for his future wife—mywife.
The wind picks up, bites its way through my jacket as I make my way up the clean white porch. I can’t help but note the verse arched above the doorway,I love you more than the heavens love the sun and the moon. He does. Logan loves Skyla exactly that much and more, and even though it sets off an inner rage in me, I understand it. Skyla is the kind of woman that leaves you breathless and wanting more. And as much as I want to, I can’t forget the fact it was Logan she wanted first. The love we share might have blossomed from our friendship, but there’s not a thing in me that believes what we share today isn’treal.
A dry laugh strums through me. Skyla hasn’t spoken more than a few words to me in months. The only reason we still share a bed on occasion is because we’re both exhausted from taking care of the boys. Our lips, our bodies have been virtual strangers to one another ever since I pledged allegiance to the darkside.
The doorknob gives in my hand, and I step in without bothering to knock. “Yo!” I bark and a tiny female frame startles on the sofa—dark copper hair cut above her shoulders, that permanent scowl on her face. It’sLex.
“Is that what you do in your spare time, Gage Oliver? Barge into other people’s homes without knocking?” Lexy Bakova spikes up on the sofa, pulling a blanket up to her chin and turning the volume down on the television. “Logan!” she shouts, clearly annoyed by my presence. “Gage ishere!”
“What brings you here?” I’ll admit, I’m slightly amused at the size of Lexy’s balls. Logan has made it known to her more times than I can count that he’s not interested, and she relentlessly continues to knit herself into his life. A shallow part of me is cheering her on, but I know Logan better than I know myself—lately that sentiment is true to a fault—Logan doesn’t want Lexy—not in that way. He’s not interested in some close second to Skyla, not that there is one. He wants Skyla and only Skyla. Can’t blame him. I feel thesame.
“What bringsyouhere?” She cranes her neck past me as if she needed me to move so she can see that goliath screen. Logan’s television takes up the wall, something that one might think screamsmy financial dick is bigger than yours, but in Logan’s case, he just wants to feel like he’s at the game. We spent our lives in worship of college football up until Skyla showed up, and ever since we’ve spent the remainder of our time worshipingher.
Logan pops in before I cananswer.
“Glad you’re here, man.” He slaps me five and pulls me into a partial embrace. Logan called and said I needed to get my sorry ass down to Whitehorse as soon aspossible.
“I came right over. What’sup?”
His forehead wrinkles with concern, and I can tell he’s holding back. I can only assume it’s because Lex is in the room. “There’s some stuff I wanted to go over with youdownstairs.”
Technically, there is no downstairs at this particular Oliver estate. The only thing down there is the subterranean lab he built for Ezrina to emulate the one she had in the Transfer—but in typical Logan fashion, it’s infinitely larger than the facility the Counts furnished her with. It’s been a godsend, but something tells me that’s up for debate at the moment. I follow Logan into the kitchen and through the pantry, which leads to the stairwell that spirals down to the lab. To say it’s enormous down here doesn’t do it justice. A football field might be dwarfed. I’ve never walked the periphery, but from what I can tell it spans a great deal past his lotlines.
“What’s up with Bakova?” I ask, jogging to keep up with him. “She still trying to heat thesheets?”
“That would be it.” He shakes his head at the thought. “She’s company,though.”
“For who?” Logan has been at the house we grew up in as much as I have these last fewmonths.
“I pop in every now and again, and it’s nice to have someone to carry on a conversation with.” He cuts me a quick look, and his cheek twitches. “Relax. I’m shitting with you. Trying to stave off her hormones is like holding up a wall. She’s relentless as they come.” He frowns as we head down the corridor that leads to Ezrina’s shiny new chop shop. “But she’s with the Barricade—she’s one ofyou.”
I pull him back by the shirt like a reflex and shove him against the wall. “Don’t say that,dude.”
Those lucent yellow eyes of his meet up with mine, and a sober moment bounces between us. “Own it, Gage. You went in with a purpose. You and I both know you went in to save your children—and now that you’re in, we can usethis.”
“Is that what you dragged me down here for?” I give him a hard shove, and the back of his head hits the wall with athud.
“No.” He squeezes his eyes shut tight as if that knock to the skull actually hurt. “But you asked what Lex was doing here. I’m telling you there’s a need toinfiltrate.”
“So you infiltrate with Lexy, and Skyla infiltrates with Chloe.” And I infiltrate on my own, but I leave that dismal bit of obvious news out. I bypass him and head into the stainless lab with its white-on-white décor that messes with your head. “Tell me, Logan. Has Skyla given you the slightest hint of what she’s up to, or is that something the two of you have decided to keep from me?” I run my hand along the stainless sink, so squeaky clean you could eat right out ofit.
“I don’t have any clue. But if I did, I wouldn’t keep it from you. Just like I’m not keeping this from you.” He motions for me to follow him farther down the hall to the room where Ezrina has a legion of oversized glass tubes on display, each filled with blue keeping solution, each one void of one quasi-human body. She built this resurrection wing in hopes to bring back the Videns from their impending doom. A third of the Videns have gone MIA, gifting their life to Wesley’s cause. There’s no real way to know if they went in knowing they’d convert into Spectators—something Wes is busy spooking the world with. The hope is to capture them and return them to their pre-Spectator state. But how do you convince a dead man that he should want to live if he prefers the alternative in order to progress a demonic movement? This room tells life and all of its hard questions to go to hell. Ezrina is determined to help me savethem.
“I know all about this room, Logan.” I touch one of the tanks with my hand and let the icy current enliven my anger once again. The Videns were gifted to me as a people, and the fact that a significant number of its youth is now all but dead speaks volumes to my leadership skills. I don’t give a shit if they wanted to go in—they made the wrong decision. I should have been the one to guide them, not Wes with his deadlyintentions.
“Did you know aboutthis?” He heads to the corner, where a white curtain surrounds one of the glass coffins, the blue solution glows from behind, and near the top it looks as if the fluid is percolating. Logan pulls the partition away with an easy flick of thewrist.
“Shit.” I take a quick step back, my heart leaping into my throat at the sight. “Isthat—”
“Laken.” He gives the side of the tank a quick knock, but the girl inside doesn’tflinch.
