My blood boils just thinking about it.
That’s right, Skyla. It does. And that is a normal reaction. What you’re doing is monstrous.
I get up and toss myself into the shower. I try not to think about the things that Chloe said, but they replay in my mind like a very sad song.
And I hate it.
I’m not sure why, but I have always envisioned marrying Logan on a sunny spring day. Late morning. Under the dappled light from a willow tree.
But here we are, late afternoon—new Skyla likes to sleep in, come to find out. The fog has tightened its grip on the island, and it’s cold as a witch’s tit outside. And that witch would be Rory herself.
Whitehorse is dressed to the tacky nines with paper poms of flowers, silver cutout wedding bells, colorful Christmas lights in lieu of dainty twinkle lights, and some odd Gregorian chants are bellowing from the speakers. Rows of white ladder-back chairs line the grassy area just in front of Silent Cove, the tiny beach at the base of the property. I see just about everyone I know here and then some. I overheard Lexy saying that Skyla wanted a big to-do. And I’ll admit, Lexy has done her best with just about everything considering what and who she had to work with.
Ellis, Coop, and Gage are with Logan laughing it up by the waterline as if there wasn’t a single thing wrong with this scenario, and suddenly I have the urge to go and strangle them all. Brody joins them and says a few words, and they suddenly turn somber. Most likely because he just mentioned he gave me a ride over. Me, the real Skyla. Not some celestial knockoff looking to get laid in a few short hours.
Booty cruise.I close my eyes in disgust.
Rory wishes she would be so lucky.
The truth is, Logan and I aren’t taking a honeymoon. Not until I can right all the wrongs in this world and get myself back where I need to be—as the queen bee of the Nephilim people in more than just popularity. I need to snatch that crown right off of Gage Oliver’s head.
I spot Tad over by the refreshment table filling his pockets with as many cookies as he can stuff in them. Mia and Melissa look amazing in pastel dresses as they talk to Rev and Gabe, their prospective dates, and I’m guessing future husbands. Liam stands with Barron and Emma. I can’t help but scowl at Emma. I’m shocked she showed up at all. But I suppose having me marry Logan will satisfy her in some way, seeing that it cements the fact I’ll never be with Gage again. Little does she know, I didn’t need to marry anyone for that never to happen.
Good riddance, Gage Oliver. And you can take your psychotic mother with you, too.
I give a quick scan of the vicinity in hopes to see a celestial visitor or two. But my heavenly mother looks to be steering clear of this fiasco. My heart drops because I don’t see any sign of my father either. It has always been my fantasy to have my father walk me down the aisle—formeto walk down the aisle while marrying Logan. I suppose technically I will be walking down the aisle either way, but let’s face it, there’s only one way to do it right.
My eyes snag on Dominique Winters as she stands with her daughter Melody, and the two of them turn to look my way as if on cue. They’re both cold and unfeeling, stunning red hair and ruby red lips. Dominique’s eyes ride down to the tray in my hands, and she gives a slight nod.
It’s funny how my mother isn’t here to help me, and yet Dominique Winters, the very witch that killed Gage, is here helping me get back what’s mine. I glance down to the brownies I baked this morning with that deadly mixture of Dominique’s no mercy blend. I threw away the mixing bowl, the fork I used to stir it, the spatula, the baking pan, and the knife.
After nearly killing my dear, sweet Nathan last year with another one of her poisons, I’m not taking any chances. Whatever Rory doesn’t eat goes straight into the toilet.
A couple of chairs get knocked over from my right, and I turn to see the kids running and screaming. Barron and Nathan look shockingly dapper and so much older in their miniature suits. A moan trembles from me. How I can’t wait to hold them in my arms again—that is, if they ever speak to me again. Rory has been so very cold, banishing them at every turn. It’s going to take time to repair the damage she’s done.
Speaking of the bitch. I head into the house, past the beehive of caterers, and zip over to the back bedroom where the first thing I spy is precious Jaxson’s face.
“Oh dear,” I whimper as tears come to my eyes when I see him all dolled up in a baby blue onesie.
Mom frowns over at me. “They don’t make suits this small. Emma wanted him in a dress, but Logan put his foot down.”
“He’s perfect. Don’t change him.”
“Of course, he’s perfect. He’s my son,” Rory quips, and I look up to her in all her ridiculous majesty. She’s donned the horror frock from the eighties, puffy sleeves, far too many sequins, and a full bell skirt with ruffles and lace. Her hair looks almost tame, her makeup a touch too much, but I can take the purple lipstick off. “Don’t just stand there,” she snips at my mother. “I want all those knee-high banshees herded and locked in a closet. I won’t have them ruining my big day. Do you hear me? Go!” she riots, and my mother quickly darts out of the room.
Laken steps forward, and it’s only then I see the rest of the girls in the room, Bree, Emily, Michelle, Lexy taking a million pictures, and Nat staring at her phone.
“Hey”—Laken pulls me to the side—“you brought treats?” She dips her hand to the tray, and I quickly pull it out of range.
“Not for you.” I make a face. “Not for anybody,” I whisper just as Marshall and Ezrina dip their head into the room.
Marshall glares at me a moment.
“Ms. Messenger.” He nods to Rory. “Beautiful as always. I’ll be waiting outside for you.”
Rory thinks Marshall is walking her down the aisle. Little does she know, he’s walkingmedown the aisle. I hope. I spent more than a few hours with him last night going over how this might work. He’s not thrilled with the idea of a poisoning, but he’s willing to facilitate the soul transfer if I can get back into my body before everything shuts down. And we have a safe word to ensure the spirit he’s speaking to will indeed be me.
Ezrina met up with me last night as well and inspected the goods I purchased from Dominique. She was just as insulted that I went to the witch as she was amused, but if there’s any penalty to pay for the crime I didn’t want any of it falling on Ezrina’s head. But she’s here to administer an elixir to me after I take possession of my body again, something that will force me to empty the contents of my stomach on command along with something else she’s cooked up to dull the pain this might cause.
