Marshall drives us to Paragon Estates and slows down as we pass the old Walsh house—the house Gage and I bought, mostly with my inheritance. It’s the house we spent every single night in before Demetri cut off Gage Oliver’s head and ended my world as I knew it. And how I loved my world with Gage in it. But then, Chloe moved in and the abomination of desolation took up residency in my bedroom.
You do realize I can hear you, Skyla. And by the way, do you really go through life talking to yourself as if you were narrating a novel? You’re such a narcissist. You’ve probably fooled yourself into thinking people are actually interested in listening in on what you have to say.
“I’m interested, Chloe,” I say. “And by sheer proximity, you’ll be interested, too.”
Hear that, Dudley? She’s already starting in with the threats. I say get me off the Skyla Express. I want my money back.
“Be quiet, Chloe,” I whisper as I inspect the house with its peachy glow. It looks as if evening is setting in. And I could swear it was just morning.
Marshall nods. “It was, Ms. Messenger. In the spirit realm, we blink and a week can drift by on the planet. But now that you’re in a body, you’re subject to time once again. The adjustment is almost instant. Shall we drop in and see how Jock Strap is faring these days?”
Oh, we shall,Chloe answers for me.
“Very well,” he says, pulling along the curb. “I’ll pay a friendly visit to Emma and Barron in the meantime.”
I get out and take a deep breath as I look at my old home.
My old home, Skyla. At least get the narration right.
“Fine,” I say. I’m not picking a fight with her while I’m in her body. Besides, I have far more important celestial beasts to fry.
I walk boldly to the front door and give a brisk knock. It feels strange knocking on my own door. Technically, I have the right to break it down if I want to, and with Gage milling around inside, I might just want to.
Refrain from violence, Messenger.Apparently, it bears repeating—I do not want to have a police record by the time you’re done with me.
“No record. Got it.”
And stop being so nice. I need you to bitch up and do it fast.
The door swings open, and standing before us is a dark-haired, blue-eyed, tall glass of Femtastic water.
Oh, good grief. Down, girl.Chloe’s mind purrs like an engine at the sight of him, and for a solid ten seconds the two of us are nothing more than a couple of drooling fools.He killed you, for Pete’s sake.
Yes,I say.He did.
“Gage,” his name swims from my lips like a betrayal.
Ditto for me,Chloe chimes.
“What do you want?” His tone is curt, his demeanor hardened.
“I—uh, I thought maybe the boys would be here and I could stop in and say hi.”
“What?” both Gage and Chloe sing in unison.
For your information, Messenger, Chloe grouses.I don’t call them the boys. I call them the brats.
Gage pinches his eyes shut a moment. “Chloe, the boys aren’t here. They’re next door. I was helping my dad do a little weed abatement and I’m tired. What is it you want?”
“Weed abatement?” Is that what they’re calling murder these days? And aweed? Really? I bet that’s all I ever was to him. Something wild and unwanted that he was dying to pluck out of sight for who knows how long. A righteous anger begins to percolate in me. “I don’t like the tone you’re taking with me,” I say as I step on in, bumping my shoulder to his as I pass him by.
“Hey?” he barks. “What the hell are you doing?”
I give a quick glance around and spot a few plates on the kitchen counter, on that beautiful marble counter Lexy helped me pick out. Lex helped me pick out every fancy appliance, counter, and cabinet, including the hardwood flooring, and the carpeting in this place. It was a renovation for the ages. I went all out. Gage and I really did think we were going to grow old together in this house. But fate and a couple of assholes had different plans.
The door slams from behind so violently loud it sounds like a gunshot.
“All right, I get it,” Gage says, heading my way. “You’re pissed. I already gathered that. What’s the real reason you’re here?”
