Ezrina nods my way. “I’ll need human specimens in a month’s time if we care to proceed at a quickened pace.”
“How about the Spectators? They’re still waiting for you to heal that necrotic state Wesley put on them.”
“And I will.” Her large, bulging eyes settle over mine. “But they’re not a valid specimen. Find me another. Someone willing to pay the price. Until then we are in waiting.”
“I’m afraid we’ve outwaited ourselves. I’ll hold a Faction meeting. I’ll let them know I need people willing to perform a great sacrifice.”
Nev leans in. “We’ll have to keep them in the dark. The Barricade mustn’t know what we’re up to.”
I take a deep breath and blow it out of my mouth. Labor breathing. This entire day will be locked in deep, meditative breaths just trying to keep me alive.
“Then that’s what it will be,” I say. “A secret.”
Laken comes up and hands a fussy baby Alice to Nev and the redheaded bundle of cuteness immediately quiets down once he takes her in his arms. I can’t help but frown at Ezrina as they make their way into the grand ballroom to take their seats. I’d ask why they were here, but I know for a fact Ezrina is still very much attached to her old body—the one Chloe’s wicked spirit is haunting at the moment, even if they do each look pretty much like their old selves. Chloe had the power to morph into an even more stunning version of herself. And Ezrina has bossed around Chloe’s old body until she somewhat resembles that haunted version of herself I remember from the Transfer all those years ago.
“Where to now?” Laken asks, threading her arm through mine.
“Where else? To the bridal chamber.”
We take off down the hall until I hear Lexy Bakova’s annoying high-pitched cackle. Laken and I pause outside of the enormous double door that leads to what amounts to the death chamber for me.
“We can leave,” Laken whispers. “We can go get coffee, see a movie.”
“No.” I pull her with me as we cross the threshold and enter a heavily wallpapered room done in cherry red and light pink satin brocade. The hardwood floors accentuate the red velvet furniture that looks as if it was plucked straight from one of those seventeenth century brothels, and I have no doubt it was. The initial room is cavernous, and I spot Melody Winters smoking an electronic cigarette, the vapors rising to the high ceiling. She’s sitting with Carly Foster and Carson Armistead. Carson gives me the finger and the three of them explode with wild laughter.
Laken cinches me to her as we enter a room within the room and then we see her. Standing in front of an oversized oval mirror, admiring herself, blowing herself a kiss before turning my way is Chloe Jessica Bishop.
The other girls hovering around her fade away and all I see is that beast—my heart no longer feeling the urge to beat.
To say Chloe is a little stunning is like saying the Empire State Building is a little tall. Chloe is shockingly resplendent, an otherworldly beauty that arrests your attention and demands you give it all to her undeterred, undivided. Her dark hair is long and glossy, soft waves that cascade over her shoulders, and her skin is so bronzed she glows in a sea of sickly white frames. Her face is sculpted to perfection with just the right amount of contouring, contrasting, and a pinch of pink on her cheeks. Her long lashes are twice the size they are in the natural, her eyes shimmer like chocolate diamonds, and her lips are the color of my own beating heart that she stomped under her heel.
“Everyone out,” she barks, her eyes still pinned to mine. “I want to have a word alone with Skyla.”
A dull huff of laughter pumps through my chest.
Laken leans in and I nod, assuring her I’ll be fine. Soon enough, the room is empty. Gone are the whispers, the snickers, the incessant giggling.
Chloe fluffs the base of her Cinderella-like gown, paper-white lace, her sweetheart neckline demure, and long lace sleeves that show off her cinnamon skin underneath. That pouf around her belly makes her look six months along, but I’m betting that’s the intention.
“You could have me banished.” Her voice is lower than a whisper, her eyes set intensely over mine.
“I know. The option is always on the table.”
“Why not?” Her voice is curt, sharper than an arrow as it pierces right through me.
“Because that would be too easy. Nothing more than a celestial tantrum on my part. If Gage demands to have you, who am I to stop him? The fact he chose you only magnifies his rejection of me. If I banished you, I would feel no better because it doesn’t change who he is at the core. I have set him free and he has not come back to me.” The words sting, burn hotter than any fire. “Our roads have diverged.”
Her eyes cut across the room, shifting like lost shadows, searching for something I wasn’t able to give her.
“It doesn’t make sense to you, does it?” I ask with a laugh caught in my throat. “Even Chloe Bishop can see the folly in the madness. You want the world to see how in control, how very happy you finally are with the love of your life by your side, but deep down, not even you can buy into this bullshit. Secretly, you’re waiting for the glass slipper to drop, to shatter and turn your world into something recognizable. You yourself suspect that you are nothing more than a cosmic punch line and you wait with bated breath for its delivery.”
A single tear rolls down her cheek, quick and furious as if even her own bodily fluids could hardly wait to get away from her.
“Skyla?” Laken calls from behind as she enters the room and along with her Nat, Lexy, and Bree all trickle back in, staring at the two of us with wide-eyed wonder. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” The word hums from me hardly audible.
Chloe brushes the tear away and shakes it off. “I was just about to ask Messenger to be my maid of honor.” The all too familiar wicked gleam lights her up from the inside once again.
