Celestra: Books 1-2

by Addison Moore

  “What are you staring at?” Gage huffs over to him before taking a swig of his soda.

  Something in Pierce hardens. He’s handsome in a future frat boy of America sort of way. The arrogance melts off his face and is replaced with a hellish fury. His brows form sharp triangular peaks as barrels on over.

  Gage is ready for a fight. He thrust back his chair and meets him chest-to-chest gorilla style in less than three seconds flat.

  “Sit down,” I say, plucking at his shirt.

  Pierce gives a hard shove and Gage bullets backward into a rolling dessert cart about eleven feet away.

  Chaos breaks loose as half the football team rushes over to Gage and the other half try to tackle Pierce.

  Marshall snatches Pierce by the back of the collar and escorts him out into the lobby, strangulation style. Pierce’s tongue protrudes from his mouth and his face bloats a brilliant shade of purple.

  “Everybody calm down.” Ms. Richards pats her hands in the air motioning for us to get back to our seats.

  Gage cleans the frosting off his arms as the coach tries to calm him down.

  I note Logan in the shadows, speeding toward the exit.

  “I’ve got go to the bathroom.” I snatch my purse off the table and head on back.

  The theater is dressed in deep red velvet. Large black panthers adorn the palatial entry, complete with stickers thrown on by errant children and initials carved, in graffiti style, toward the bottom. The glass doors to the entrance have a lightning bolt shaped crack in one, and a bullet hole in the other.

  Over in the corner, Pierce nods to Marshall with feigned obedience. As soon as Marshall heads back inside, Logan pushes Pierce into a darkened alcove.

  I run over to the other end of the lobby fast as I can.

  I can hear their primal grunting, a series of dull thumps, and a skull bashing into the wall.

  A scream dissipates as it fails to make its way out my vocal chords. They’re both bleeding. Logan’s face is lost in thick tracks of crimson and Pierce’s eye is swelling unnaturally.

  Logan picks him up and thrashes him down on his back at an increased velocity.

  “Shit.” Pierce writhes on the carpet as he struggles to get his bearings.

  Logan plucks a large picture off the wall and holds it over him in a threatening manner.

  “No—let me.” I take it from him and heave it over Pierce’s body. His flaxen colored waves would look so much better with shards of glass embedded in them. I cradle the gilded frame in my hands. I have my strength back, I could crush him with it if I wanted—kill him like I did his brother. I lift it high and smash it into the ground within an inch of his left ear. His back arches momentarily before he winces in pain.

  I kneel next to him and lean in.

  “Your brother says, hell is lonely,” I whisper. “Touch me again and I’ll arrange for you to find out yourself.” I bear all of my hatred down over him as I seethe out the words.

  Logan pulls me off him, and we head over to a now defunct concession stand. It might have been fully operational, once, like in 1953.

  “Are you OK?” His cheek twitches when he says it.

  I reach over to the sink and wet a paper towel to give him, but he dunks his head under the faucet instead. A steady stream of pink liquid rinses off his flesh. He pops back up and slicks his hair back in one swift motion, causing a trail of water to shoot up in the air.

  “You’ve got a bad cut.” I pat the puff of flesh just under his eye.

  “I’m OK.” He winces out a smile. A morbid sadness falls between us. An entire sea of strangled words that will probably never be said. “Go ahead and go back in. I’m gonna…” He points toward his cut. Pierce lets out a loud groan from inside the alcove. “Do me a favor and don’t leave Gage.”

  He looks resigned to the fact I shouldn’t and never will.

  48

  Falling

  It’s only nine-thirty, and I’m already exhausted. Nat left our room to be with Pierce, and Kate and Brielle decided it was too boring to sit around, so they put on their bathing suits and hit the hot tub.

  Not me.

  I let out a hard sigh as I give a light knock on Marshall’s door. I’ve completely rethought this whole earthquake thing. Marshall is right, I can’t just treat him like some magic eight ball.

  The door opens, and he waves me in. He’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans and looks younger than usual. I’m not used to seeing him so casual, and well, like a teenager. This totally throws me.

  A series of wild thumps erupt from inside the bathroom.

  “What’s that?” I ask. With Marshall around, all of my fear and anxieties are replaced with a natural curiosity.

  “I had to meet with a few Fems. Discuss strategies, the implications of subliminal messaging. You’d think after six thousand years they’d get it straight.” He takes a seat at the front of the bed and snatches up the remote. A football game is on, and he’s totally vegging out, just staring at the TV.

  “You seem so—normal.”

  “Mmm.” He appears disinterested in my analysis.

  “You’re anything but.”

  “Are you here to argue about my oddities or glimpse into your future?” He doesn’t waver his stare from the television.

  “Neither. Actually, I wanted to forget about that whole future thing. That, and I sort of promised Holden a body.”

  “Not your brightest moment.”

  “Well, I know, but you have to help me. He’s really aggravating to have around, and he’s completely out of control. He almost killed Gage in that accident.”

  “Better luck next time.” Marshall looks around nebulously as though Holden could hear. “Do you really want to bring him back from the dead? First Chloe the catastrophe, and now him? Leave resurrections to the pros, Skyla. That’s nothing you want to specialize in, believe you me.”

  “Can you help me get rid of him?”

  “I can help you do anything.” He glides into a malevolent smile. “The Skyla’s the limit.” He grins. “What are you willing to give?”

  “Not much. I’m with Gage.”

  “And you’ve called off pining for the pretty one?”

  “Logan is not pretty. They’re both gorgeous. It’s like a family curse or something. And yes, I’m working on getting over him. A girl can only have one love interest and I pick Gage.” A searing pang of grief rips through me. We’re sort of like Romeo and Juliet, Logan and me. Only, it’s celestial factions keeping us apart and not family. Our blood is the poison, and we’re forced to marinade in it day after day. It’s suffering a miserable death this love of ours. How can it possibly survive?

  “Have you convinced yourself yet?” He leans back, amused. “That is what you’re doing, isn’t it, Juliet?”

  “I’m convinced. The future is set in stone. Whether I accept it or not, I have a destiny. The funny thing is, I really do love Gage.” Tears start to blur my vision, but I won’t let them fall. I like it like this, the way they make the world quiver at attention. “We’re all arrows, spearing through time in one long trajectory,” I say, finishing my thought on the predestination of things to come.

  “Poetry in motion.” He slides over to me. “The future I’m going to show you is pivotal. The consequences, of which, will be an amazing portrait of your strength, both inside and out.”

  “I’m not going to kiss you. I’m not kissing anyone but Gage.” Logan bullets through my mind.

  “The trifecta of misery is written all over your face. Perhaps a tiny glimpse of what lies ahead will help ease the pain—get you from Logan to Gage in a single bound.”

  From Logan to Gage?

  “Will this help get a body for Holden?” May as well kill two birds with one stone.

  “No.” Marshall’s eyes round out momentarily. “Although with much persuading I can resolve those issues as well. Are you ready for your vision?”

  “Is it going to teach me something important?”

  “Alle
viates heartaches and dispenses both knowledge and wisdom. Kissing me is both medicinal and educational.”

  Marshall doesn’t waste any time. He pulls me down in one mouthwatering moment. The rush of energy flows through me like a river of pleasure amplified—no wonder Michelle can’t leave him alone.

  A picture emerges. I see Gage and Logan near a large banquet table. Gage swipes his finger along the side of a birthday cake and puts a scoop of frosting in his mouth. I see Logan holding up a long serrated knife in my direction. It looks questionable whether it’s me or the cake he’s ready to cut.

  I pull back and take a breath.

  “That’s it?”

  “It’s a bit more dramatic in real life.”

  “That was the last time, I swear.” I push past him as I bolt for the door.

  “It’s not. I’ve seen this,” he calls after me.

  ***

  When I get back to the room, I’m shocked to see two males slumped over the tiny round table in the room. Crap! It’s probably Holden, and he’s brought another dead friend, or worse, the Fems that just finished a dress rehearsal in Marshall’s bathroom. I accidentally knock into the trashcan and both Logan and Gage sit up at attention.

  They’re hovering over something. Marshall’s dagger sits in front of them, still tucked inside its sheath.

  Chloe’s diary sits nestled between the two of them, opened.

  “You’re reading it,” I gasp.

  “I saw something silver hanging out of your bag,” Gage says rather sheepishly. “I thought you brought the knife, but it was your brush. Then I saw this.” His face changes colors. “We didn’t read it all.” He picks up the last few pages still glued in a chunk.

  “Let’s finish it then.” I snatch it off the table and hop onto the bed near the window. Logan and Gage scoot in on either side of me.

  More boring, droning days—I leaf through pages of bizarre statements about playing a game of buried treasure, mundane school news, the charting of her period.

  October 17th,

  Demetri did it. I’ve fashioned a better noose and the deed is done. Let the record show that the prediction of my beloved shall stand correct. This butterfly will emerge from her cocoon in a blaze of beautiful glory.

  October 25th,

  I’ve seen her again—tried to drown her in my dreams.

  Counts invited me to their meeting! I’m big time now.

  Drown me—she was trying to drown me?

  “The Counts,” Gage says.

  “Logan?” I push the book to my chest. “When we get back I want to go over that list of names.”

  The two of them exchange glances.

  “What?” I ask. They’re keeping something from me. I relax the book against my knees. I’ll get the list myself when we get back, from Ellis if I have to. “Who was Emerson?”

  “Pierce and Holden’s sister,” Gage whispers. “She was murdered about six months before Chloe died.”

  “Chloe said she watched someone die, that she had blood on her hands. I bet she killed her. That’s what they were lording over her.” My breathing becomes unsteady.

  Logan twitches his brows and gives a small shrug.

  Nothing would surprise me about Chloe anymore.

  October 31st,

  Michelle has gone psychotically insane trying to figure out what Lex and me are always ‘whispering’ about. I think in another month I’ll clue her in on our little secret, Em too. I’ll probably tell her Logan is a demon—although that might actually entice her. She knows enough to stay away from Gage.

  Ellis’s party sucked just like him. Logan announced that he doesn’t want to see me anymore. He doesn’t think this is going to work. Well, too damn bad.

  I call the shots. I decide the end.

  November 2nd,

  Demetri freaking Edinger came to town! I almost crapped my pants when I saw him at the gas station. Turns out his grandfather lives here. Weird.

  Holden texted me, let me know the Counts have made all the necessary arrangements for Paragon’s newest resident. Of course, I put on the finishing touches myself, one well-placed BFF, and one well-placed boyfriend.

  I have everyone where I want them—everyone working for me. Death will be like a well-needed vacation.

  November 3rd,

  Dear Dairy, I’ll be signing off for a while. I have this creaky feeling in my bones that I could be headed into my cocoon any day now. I’ll be sealing you off as soon as I’m through writing this. I look forward to seeing you again—when I get back.

  Chloe

  “What’s the name of the regional leader in L.A.?” My voice is clenched in a hoarse whisper. It all comes together for me. Chloe looking for someone just like her, bribing the Kraggers for information, giving away Celestra files, doing anything and everything to save her life, clawing her way out of death like a cat at the bottom of a well—Chloe light driving to L.A.

  “I don’t remember.” Logan shakes his head.

  “I do. D. Edinger.” My fingers shake as I turn the next few pages. Blank. Homecoming came and went and Chloe was busy being tormented by Fems or Ezrina or whoever the heck held her captive for two weeks before dumping her off on the side of the road like the piece of trash she was.

  I peel back the final page, written on the inside cover in bold print reads,

  People I Hate

  Brody Bishop

  Emerson Kragger

  Lexy Bakova

  Michelle Miller

  Ellis Harrison

  Gage Oliver

  Skyla Messenger

  49

  The Death of You

  I flex the diary upside down until the picture of Ezrina floats out, gentle as a leaf. I pluck it form the air before it has a chance to settle.

  “I’m going to the bathroom.” I push the words out in an effort to ditch both Logan and Gage.

  Chloe was the reason my father died. It was an all out hunt for someone like her, someone she could fool into liking her, someone as stupid as me to even think to bring her back. She probably whispered the idea in my sleep. Somehow she made sure I ended up on Paragon, trapped in her world to do her bidding.

  I snatch the dagger off the table in one clean swipe and dash to the restroom, locking myself inside.

  Chloe was right, this does change everything, although the jokes on her because she is never going to live to see it.

  “Skyla!” The door bucks as Logan and Gage frantically scream my name.

  I get on the floor and hold the knife close to my chest. I try to remember the last occasion I time traveled alone. For sure I had enough blood in me then. I’m not too concerned with whether or not I’ll get back. There’s always Chloe’s blood—and I plan on shedding quite a bit of it.

  Logan and Gage burst through the door, just as I disappear.

  ***

  Ellis’s party is going strong. I walk around back and spy Logan with his arms crossed talking to Carly. Her billowy hair flails in the wind—funny how her being a mom has changed my urge to slaughter her. Although on a night like tonight I fear for anyone who gets in my way.

  Turns out Chloe has been hanging around the periphery of my life like a cyclone, ready and waiting for the wind to push her just right so she could knock down my house of cards.

  I ditch past Gage just barely. I’ve impressed myself on him and he hungers to reprise that kiss. Maybe kissing Gage will be how I celebrate this fated night—it seems fitting in oh so many ways.

  Then I see her, relaxed, with her feet up over the sofa. She wears a mile wide grin as she talks to Michelle.

  I slip the dagger into the back of my jeans—feel the cold steel handle push into my flesh as I pull the picture of Ezrina out of my back pocket. I whisper her name like an incantation.

  “Hey!” Chloe throws her legs over the side.

  “You have a second?” I force a smile, crumbling the picture in my hand.

  “Sure.” She looks over at Michelle. “Friend from out of town. Boy troub
le. He’s a lot like Logan,” she sneers as we exit the room.

  There’s an arctic chill in the air, but my anger has numbed me from the frosty bite of the elements. Dew settles quickly on my skin, my hair, my clothes, but I’m anesthetized from the effects. Hatred has a strange way of stripping your senses away and honing all of your energy into one pure stream of venom.

  “Full moon,” she breathes the words as we progress toward the woods.

  “It’s a blistering moon,” my voice comes from someplace else, too deep and arid to belong to me. “Can it be that?”

  “Sounds like an ominous forecast.” She keeps us moving at a frenetic pace. “You better watch it next time. Someone is going to see you.” She picks a large stick off the ground as though it were a reflex.

  We step into the woods. An entire covering of tall black towers spread over us like a death shroud.

  “Let me guess.” She bats her lashes. “Logan and Gage are embroiled in a power struggle. The love triangle of doom is about to collapse, and you don’t know which one you’re going to let deflower you first?” She places her hand up by her face and sighs.

  “Mmm,” I moan. “The story went down a little different, actually.” Our steps even out as we progress deeper and deeper into the black of the forest. “I found a love that grows with Gage, and a love that will wait for me with Logan.”

  “Aren’t you a lucky little witch?” She digs a smile into the side of her face.

  “Do you know about love, Chloe?” I pant as the scenery glides by quick and smooth as a dream. “Love, as strong as death?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her features darken.

  “I read it—right up until the end.” I pull her back by the shoulder.

  A wild army of thumps land hard on the forest floor, shaking the earth with their disruptive growls.

  “So you know?” There’s a hint of glee in her voice.