And as for the big dreamy scheme, well, let’s just say I pulled a page out of the Bitch Squad playbook when I came up with this one. Rory is about to undergo a good old-fashioned, somewhat good-natured, kidnapping. I went out and bought hideous Halloween masks that were thankfully heavily discounted. Chloe really is living on a shoestring budget.
Laken, Bree, Nat, Em, Lexy, and I are about to greet Rory with our game faces on and a couple of baseball bats—not to beat my old body with, just to further intimidate her. The plan is to get her good and frightened out of her mind before we throw a pillowcase over her head and lock her in the back of the trunk of the Mustang for the day. Logan made sure to pop a taillight—or something to that effect—so my poor body wouldn’t suffocate twice in one lifetime. And then in a few hours, we’ll start the bachelorette party with the rest of the horrors I have planned for my not-so sweet sis.
“Let’s do it,” I say, shaking my mask out. The rest of the girls are already in the foyer, and we head upstairs to my room as quietly as we can.
Logan passes us in the hall, and I stay back and give baby Jaxson a brush with my lips while the other girls enter the room.
I filled my mother in on the hellish shenanigans, and she said she wouldn’t mind a bit. It’s nice to know my mother still believes in a good-natured ribbing even if she does know all about the difficulties the Factions have been having. It’s clear the woman can’t be trusted.
I stride over to Laken, and she nods my way.
“Ready, Bishop?” She gives a little wink.
“Ready and willing to rock Messenger’s world,” I say as I hold up the pillowcase in my left hand. “And I get to do the honors.” We don our hideous masks, burst into the room while I flick the lights on and off, and watch as Rory quickly gets tangled up in the sheets.
“What in high heaven?” The words rip from her as she jumps against the wall, her feet clawing into the mattress as if she couldn’t get away quick enough. “What’s going on?Logan?” she shouts as she tries to crane her neck past us. “Lizbeth? Call the police!”
Em staggers forward, swinging the bat in her hand precariously close to my old face, and I watch as the former version of myself screams.
“Monsters!” Rory yelps. “My God, the Fems have taken over and they’ve come to beat me! I’m not who you think I am!” she shouts it loud and clear, but I recognize that tremble in my voice as unmitigated fear. “You have the wrong person! Don’t kill me! I’m one of you!”
Nice to know that Rory doesn’t mind exposing herself when she thinks her neck is on the line.
Welcome to the human experience, I want to say.You can’t always pick and choose your destiny.
I zoom over and shove the pillowcase over her head, and Nat scoops her off the bed and tosses her over her shoulder like a bodybuilder. In truth, I’m not sure Nat needed to use her Nephilim-issued strength to pick her up so easily.
Michelle wastes no time in binding Rory’s feet with a zip tie, and Lexy does the same with her hands.
Rory shouts and cries for her mother, which I’m assuming isn’t the one living under this roof.
We wrestle her down the stairs, out the front door, and into the waiting open maw of the Mustang’s trunk—thanks to Logan and his unusual level of acceptance to my hostile kidnapping.
I have the pleasure of whipping off that pillowcase and watching as she gives a horrified look at her new surroundings.
“Don’t worry, Skyla,” I smear the words with just the right amount of Bishop sarcasm. “Your party will officially begin in just a few hours.”
I slam the trunk shut and the five of us take off our masks just as Bree ambles down the driveway with a coffee cup in hand, the remnants of sleep still in her eyes.
“Did I miss it?”
“Yup,” I say, shaking out my hair. “But don’t worry. We’re still getting to the good part.”
True to our word, the six of us congregate back to the Mustang once we’ve primped and coiffed and donned our barely-there little black dresses and appropriately vexing yet equally sexy footwear. But it’s been far more than a few hours. It’s a little past six, looks and feels more like midnight, and the fog is so thick it gives each of us a ghostly appeal.
Laken shudders as we all stare at the Mustang in silence. “Do you think she’s okay?”
I give a quick nod. “There’s no way her mother in the sky would let anything happen to her.” I roll my eyes at the thought. Ironically, my mother in the sky did let something happen to me—something that permeates life itself, calleddeath. And now a part of me wonders if this was a good idea after all.
I pop the trunk and the stench of ammonia reeks from it, causing us all to recoil and groan.
Lex grunts as she waves her hand over her nose. “She’s pissed herself.”
Michelle leans in. “She probably shit herself, too.”
Nat pokes Rory with her finger. “God, I think she’s dead.”
“No, she’s not dead. I’m honestly not that lucky.” I pluck her up by the hair, and Rory lets out a curdling scream.
