“Formulating a plan and executing it should be two distinct actions, preferably the former followed by the latter. Do you see something contradictory with this picture?” He glares over at Skyla for amoment.
“I get it.” I hold up a hand to cut him off. “We jumped in. But in her defense, it’s a brilliant plan and one approved by the leader of the Decision Councilherself.”
His finger bounces off his lips as if deep in thought, an action I’ve been prone to do myself, and the idea amuses me. Somewhere down the lineage line, our ancestry has crossed wires. Dudley here is my not-so-great gramps thanks to his less than stellar, albeit frequents, romps throughout history. His celestial seedlings escaped the one-eyed snake, and here I am, all but a carbon copy of the Sectorhimself.
“Has Candace approved this?” His voice curls toward the incredulous. “Have you thought through the repercussions, young Oliver? Has it ever occurred to you this might be a master manipulation? A setup as it were?” The lights dim, and Dudley stands at attention, his gaze dialed in straight ahead as if he were half-expecting his superior to strut in front ofhim.
Chloe strides up before I can answer him. Her cruel dark eyes narrow in over mine as her face curves into a snarl. “What’s this I hear about Logan Oliver becoming abumpkinfarmer?” She spits the words out with a nauseouslook.
“Do my future plans offend you?” I’m not amused. And God knows I’m not in the mood to entertain this wench today or any otherday.
Her full lips twist in a knot, and a brief memory of the two of us fucking freely back in her old bedroom—Skyla’s new bedroom, before I ever knew Skyla existed, runs through my mind. “Hell yes, they offend me.They—”
“Good,” I cut her off at the pass. “I hope everything about me offends you, Chloe. I hope the sight of me makes your stomach turn the way mine does when I see you. All you have ever done to me or anyone else is caused outrageous levels of misery. I can’t imagine what I would have done if you had only approved. Thanks for solidifying my actions with your discontent. It’s how I know I’m moving in the rightdirection.”
Ellis scoffs from the end of the table. “Dude, she’s right. This idea sucks big hairy balls. You need to rethink the squash-fest. You and I need to pool our funds and open up a chain of breasteraunts on theisland.”
“Breasteraunts?” Chloe chokes on the word as if she were equally offended by his idea, as she was mine. In truth, I happen to agree with her on that one. “Skyla—evict every idea that stoner offers. We can’t trust hisjudgment.”
“And we can trust yours?” Dudley smiles as he delivers thequip.
Chloe straightens, her eyes dim to a disheartening shade of soot. “My,my, isn’t this the pot calling the kettle black? You are quite the charmer, aren’t you, Sector Dudley—flaunting your manhood through the ages as if you were some starry host B list celebrity that has a dick ax to grind with the female population at large. I’ll have youknow—”
“Enough.” The words come from him calm as he lifts a finger with ease, and Chloe levitates into the air with her back adhering to theceiling.
Skyla and I exchange a brief glance before we scan the room for onlookers, as if the dead should find this the least bit bazaar. Truth be told, every last detail of our world has turned into a mindfuck as of late. Not sure why Chloe on the ceiling should jar me in anyway.
“Shit!” Chloe squeals. “Please, dear God, don’t spin me! Skyla, don’t you let him spin me!” she screams as a round of oohs and ahhs erupt amongst the crowd gathering at thespectacle.
I’ll give Dudley credit. It is an amusing party trick—one he played on me not too many years ago. Although, I don’t recall anyspinning.
Dudley growls up at her as if threatening her with a quick spin before he glowers over at me. “Bring Skyla to my home this evening. I’ve a dead man’s bone to pick with the two ofyou.”
“What about Gage?” It only seems natural. It’s always been the three of us against the world even if the two of them are at odds at themoment.
“I forbid that menace to cross my property line.” He seethes over at Skyla, “Don’t be tardy, Ms. Messenger.” He butts shoulders with the dearly departed and disintegrates long before he hits the exit, which spurs a spontaneous round of applause from the easily impressedcrowd.
“Sectors are the best.” A bubbly blonde shoulders up next to me. She’s tiny and cute, and startlingly young, a pre-teen perhaps. She holds the air of innocence about her with the exception of a gaping wound that glides across her cheek. I can tell it’s been filled in with the mortuary’s finest cosmetics—dried and cracking with age. “I’m Casey.” She offers me a svelte hand, and I shake it, surprised to see how warm itis.
“I’mLogan.”
“Logan Oliver.” Her eyes brighten a peculiar shade of lavender. “Once dead and now you’re alive in a Treble gifted from your highness Candace Messenger—mother of Skyla, our great warrior princess who is destined to secure a rightful place of leadership with Celestra through her marital bond with Sector Marshall. I’m all up on my Warring Angels101.”
Skyla looks up from the spastic notes eating up the table and offers a quiet laugh. Her eyes connect with mine, and we share an intimate moment right here in the madness, the eye of the hurricane we’ve seated ourselves in onceagain.
“Nice to meet you, Casey.” I offer her a quick shake. “And yes, Skyla is our great warriorprincess.”
That wide-eyed stare of hers never dissipates. “You’re sexy.” Her fingers cover her mouth as shegiggles.
“I second that,” Skyla calls out, and Chloe grunts from above as if she’s been supernaturally muted. And judging by the fact she’s no longer cursing up a storm, I’d say that might very well be the case. “Giselle says it’s okay to use that word.” She nods into the idea as if she’s been eager to use that word for centuries. “You are sexy. We all think so.” She motions back to a small crowd of girls gathered in a bunch near the sofa leering at me with perky little grins. I give a quick wave, and the entire lot of them breaks out into titters. Casey glides her hand up over my shoulder, taking a step in with a look in her eye that suddenly screams anything but innocence. “It’s so lonely in here. How about you give a girl a ride in thatbigwhite truck of yours?” She gives a littlewink.
Skyla clears her throat as if to say something, but her mouth opens and she’s suddenly as mute as Chloe and she shrugs up at meinstead.
“Pardon me.” A tall dapper man, the oldest of the bunch as far as time goes, steps up. “I’m afraid young Casey is needed in the next room.” He shakes his head at her ever so slightly as if it were a reprimand and escorts her quickly in that direction. I know the dude, David Copeland. He looks like an Abe Lincoln caricature if you ask me. He died in his late thirties—in 1898. I know Casey, too. Casey Fields was just fifteen the day she met her demise in 1948 by way of a tractor plow. It’s safe to say, I’ve made it a point to commit each newly reanimated corpse and the nature of their demise to memory. I shake my head at the thought of being hit on by a girl who is technically slightly older than my mother. And speaking of my mother—and my father. I’ll admit, I was holding out hope that they, too, would have been a part of this heroic assignment. But, as it stands, they were cremated by the Counts far before they ever were by the morgue, and it appears Candace is only allowing us to utilize those with bodies available to reanimate. Barron had their ashes scattered partially throughout the farm back in Oregon and here on the island—the bowling alley, the beach, they both loved Pike’s Reef where I spend my birthday each year. And each year I celebrate at that locale, I feel close to my mother andfather.
“Wow, Logan”—Skyla marvels with that sarcastic look in her beautiful blue eyes that I’ve grown to love—“you really know how to bring the dead girls to the yard—graveyard.” She gives a little wink. “Oh, who am I kidding? There’s not a girl, dead or alive, who doesn’t want a piece ofyou.”
Chloe grunts from above and struggles to move herlimbs.
