What the—?
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I am neither.” He gives a slight bow. I bet a million bucks that Marshall wishes he could let an expletive or two fly right about now.
“I have given you the answers which you seek, and you have avoided the knowledge for months.” She huffs a mocking laugh. “Skyla, it will bode well with you if you would escort your spirit husband to Ezrina’s current lair. He’s a bit in need of some hand holding.” She smacks her lips, her lids lower, unimpressed, as she scowls at Marshall. “Return, both of you.”
“No, wait!” I turn back and latch on to Logan as if my life depended on it. “Take care of her,” I breathe the words hot into his neck.
“Of course.” He pulls back, his sad gaze dragging over every inch of my face. “Skyla?” He tilts his head almost apologetically. “We’re still going to happen.”
I open my mouth to deny it but don’t have the heart to do it to his face.
“Ms. Messenger.” Marshall clamps his hand over my shoulder, and we quickly fade to nothing.
I look right into Logan’s beautiful eyes and think, No, we won’t. We won’t ever happen again.
Gage and I have a family now. I’ve already cursed us once. I refuse to do it again.
The laboratory forms around us, white glossy walls, a matching floor that makes you wonder which way is truly up or down. The heavy scent of ginger and spices emits from down the hall as Marshall leads the way, the two of us already walking in stride.
“That was some meeting.” My heart is still threatening to give out as a result of it. “My mother is some piece of work.”
“Tell me about it.” He offers my hand a squeeze.
“I fear the woman.” I shudder as I say it.
“The fact you fear anything is amusing,” Marshall growls and gives the curve of a smile, and at the same time, looks comely as all hell. It’s a talent only a Sector can perfect—this Sector to be exact.
A thought comes to me. “Is that why you were disguised as a clown the first time we informally met? Then again, you donned that ghastly clown face last Halloween? Because my fears amuse you?”
“Precisely. Is this something you’d like me to reprise in the bedroom?”
“Do it and see how far it gets you.” We pause a moment. “So, what’s this big secret?” I nudge his ribs, but my mind is still back in Ahava, still with Sage—Sage—my own precious child. The very child that Gage and I made with love, and, well, some very dicey advice per Ellis, but I’m ready to put that to rest now. My hand rounds over my belly. As far as I’m concerned, these children were meant to be. A sharp pain of grief spikes through my heart as I remember why Sage is in Ahava to begin with. How am I ever going to tell her father that I was the one that put her there?
“There is no big secret.” Marshall winces. “Or perhaps it is a big secret, but nevertheless, I’ve no real interest in it to begin with other than the mere details.”
We step into the lab proper to find Ezrina hunched in the corner, chopping something with a machete—something small and delicate. Upon closer inspection, they look like…mushrooms?
“Oh—oh!” I’m more than a little disgusted when I realize what they are. “My barf-shrooms. Are they good for anything?”
“Regeneration.” She shrugs as if she wasn’t so sure herself. Ezrina wipes down her hands while glancing past us. “Heathcliff! It seems the Sector is finally interested to see where the die has landed.”
Nevermore strides in with a laugh. “Goodness, no one is blaming you for the scope of time in which it took you to come to terms with this. But, I for one, would have thought the suspense would’ve kept you up at night.”
“The nitwits that have squatted in my home keep me up at night,” Marshall snaps. “This is simply a hiccup to an otherwise ordinary day.”
“I just found out I have a child.” I swat him.
“Correction, you’ve just met your child.” His eyes glow a clear amber and remind me strikingly of Logan’s. “Your child is an emerald in an endless sea of sand. She is our child, Skyla. In my heart, your children are my children as well.”
My entire person dissolves at his sweet proclamation. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Ezrina titters.
My eyes widen. My mouth falls open. I’ve heard Ezrina do quite a few things, and tittering isn’t one of them.
Ezrina nods to Marshall. “Are you ready, fine sir?”
Fine sir? Why does this all seem incredibly strange? Have I landed in another Fem-induced psychosis?
“Give it to me, Ezrina—and give it to me now,” Marshall barks.
Again, words I never thought I’d hear.
She tips her head back, and her glasses reflect the florescent lights above like flashing coins. “They are indeed of your lineage.”
“What?” I’m terribly confused by this conversation. “I’m pretty sure these belong to Gage.” I wrap my arms around my flesh-covered beach ball protectively. “What are we doing here, Marshall?”
He straightens. “It seems I’m looking into a bit of genealogy.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
“Wait…You don’t have any. You were created.” That conversation we had a few months back comes vaguely floating to the forefront of my mind.
He groans. “It turns out I’ve done a little creating of my own.”
“Oh my God, what? Then it’s true!” I’m completely floored. My entire body is numb with shock. “Oh my goodness! Marshall, you’re a father?”
“It’s nothing new.” He glances to Ezrina. “Tell her that it’s nothing new. This happened centuries before we ever met.”
“True.” Ezrina is about as excited as a blank wall.
“Oh right! That whole seventeenth century thing.” I make a face without meaning to. “So, it’s been confirmed?” I look to Ezrina, and she gives a single, solemn nod. “Aw!” I clutch my chest. “Marshall! You have an entire sea of miniature Dudley’s running around out there somewhere. I bet you’re a great-great-great-great-great-grandfather. Probably more so, but I was growing a bit tired of saying it. We have to find them! I’ve got to meet them. I bet they’re all wildly gorgeous.”
“You’ve met them,” Nev flatlines.
“What?” I jump with excitement. “Who? What? Where?”
“Coop, Gage, Logan,” Nev says in keeping with the cadence. “Oh, wait.” He looks to Ezrina—“Gage isn’t one of them, is he?”
She shakes her head.
I suck in such a sharp breath it sounds as if I’ve just inhaled a scream.
“I can’t believe this! Oh, wow! Oh my God!” I howl straight into Marshall’s face. “You’re like their long-lost dead relative that just walked out of a sarcophagus!” I clutch his shoulders as he openly growls at my analogy. “Coop and Logan are going to flip when they hear this! You’re their fantastically long-lost grandpappy!”
“Hush, woman.” Marshall glowers over my shoulder at nothing in particular. “Just the thought makes me sound decrepit. They’re nothing more than a failed legacy. Something culled from my flesh to replicate me on a cellular level. All the very worst parts, might I add.”
“Dear God.” I’m so floored I might actually fall flat on my well-padded ass. God knows I’ve acquired enough adipose tissue to insulate more than just the three living beings that occupy the largest organ of my body—the third being me, and my heart breaks for Sage all over again. “This is amazing. I have to go tell them.” I no sooner turn to make a run for it than he reels me back a good foot.
“Now, now, Ms. Messenger, no reason to incite an unwanted family reunion. I’m not about to claim any distant relations wrought from my bastard.”
“Marshall!” I gasp at the expletive. “That’s a very bad word.”
“Believe me, when I think I might be responsible for every Oliver known to man, it’s as close to a term of endearment as I can ever get.” His head writhes over his shoulders. “I must leave.”<
br />
“Wait!” I follow him out. “I want to be there with you when you break the big news.”
“Of course. But I’m not telling, and neither are you.”
“Of course,” I parrot. “I won’t tell Logan or Cooper.”
I’ll tell Gage.
House of Cards
GAGE
“What?” I gape at my beautiful wife, safe in my arms, the moon dancing over her curls as if skipping a stone.
“You heard me—he’s sort of an Oliver baby daddy.”
“And Coop?” I can feel my brows hike up in disbelief. I’m not too into Dudley, and neither is Logan. This is a shock to say the least.
“It turns out they have a blended lineage.”
“Geez.” I close my eyes a moment. “Wow, talk about a genetic surprise lurking around the corner.” I pull her closer. It’s nice like this in bed with Skyla. I’m gone so much of the night that a part of me misses this.
“Actually, there is one last genetic surprise, sort of.” She gives a little shrug.
“What?” I twist my neck as if gearing up to take it on the chin.
“I met her.” Tears swell in her eyes.
“Met who?” I wipe them away as fast as they fall.
“Our little girl. She’s perfect.” She buries her face in my chest a moment, and my heart demands to stop at the news. “She has your dark hair and gorgeous eyes. She’s not an infant either. My mother can’t stand babies, apparently, so she’s five.”
“Five?” My voice goes up an octave.
“Around that.”
“Skyla.” My lips twitch as tears of my own come to the party. “Does she have a name?”
“Sage.” She shrugs again. “If you hate it, we can change it. My mother named her Luzy, and it didn’t fit her, so I gave her our ship name—you know, Skyla and Gage smushed together.”
“I love it.” I wrap my arms tight around her. Skyla’s bulging stomach presses hard against me, and the babies give a swift kick.
We both indulge in a hearty laugh, our joy mixed with so much sorrow.
“Let’s think of names before my mother tries to get involved again.” She gives a gentle pat to her stomach. “How about Sadie and Angel?”
Ooh. I wince. “How about Max and Mitch?”
Now it’s her turn to wince. “You think we’re having two boys?”
“Only to off balance the fact you think we’re having two girls,” I offer playfully.
“I guess we’d better have two of each picked out, and then decide what to do if we’re having a boy and a girl.” The combinations of our newfound joy seem endless.
“We could name them after our parents. That would make things easy, and it would be meaningful.”
“Lizbeth and Emma?” Her mouth gapes in disbelief.
“Sorry.” A dull laugh rattles from me. “Sage was already taken.”
“I’m glad you like it. I think Sage is a perfect name, too.” She leans forward and takes a soft bite from my lips. “I guess we can nickname them Izzy and Emmy. At least that way they could have something of their own.”
“Izzy and Emmy.” I let it swill in my mind a moment. “I like that.”
“I think I do, too.”
“And the boys—which we are having,” I tease.
“Very funny. And by the way, if we did have boys, we’d be in trouble because I really wouldn’t know what to do with them.”
“Are you kidding? Pop Warner, here we come. Think of all the T-ball games, soccer, the endless football practice in the yard.”
“We don’t have a yard.”
“We will someday.” My stomach clenches because I’ve been holding off on a bit of news that I know won’t exactly make her ecstatic. “Speaking of someday, my mom called—turns out, the Walshes have decided that if we want the house, they’d be happy to negotiate a fair price. They’ve even offered to forgo a realtor, so we won’t be out any additional fees.”
“Oh?” Her face bleaches white. “How generous of them.” She takes a breath and holds it. “So, we come up with a fair number, and that’s it?” She hikes up on her elbows, and I can’t tell if she’s suddenly interested or pissed.
“That would be it.”
“Let’s see.” She tilts her head, her eyes flame with a familiar look—sarcasm—so that’s where this train is headed. “We could offer them ten dollars, but then they’d owe us nine.”
“All right—you’re funny. Forget I ever brought it up.”
She shakes her head. Her eyes settle over me. “No, I can’t. You wouldn’t have brought it up if you weren’t at least a little bit interested. Do you want this place?”
“I don’t want this place, but I want a place, and, well, opportunity sort of came to us. It is behind the gates. We could trick it out and have a kick-ass place with just a little elbow grease.”
“Just a little? Try food grease and a match.” She falls back onto her pillow and closes her eyes.
“Never mind. It’s done. Back to the names.” My gut feels as if it were just dealt a blow. I need to get Skyla and me out of this shit box, and, according to what they want for rentals out there, the only place we might be able to afford, emphasis on the might, is right back in one of Morley Harrison’s slums. An image of our twins with scabies comes to mind, and I quickly banish the thought.
“I’ll look at it again,” she moans without bothering to open her eyes.
“No. You don’t need to do me any favors. I’m okay with it. We’ll just have to save up a little longer. We’ll rent. Everyone is doing it. We can do it, too.”
“Rent?” Her shoulders hike up. “I guess owning would be better.”
“We could always fix it up and flip it.” A shard of hope cuts through me. I just know the Walsh place is a goldmine waiting to happen. If Skyla isn’t into it, I was going to try to convince Logan and Liam to go in on it—someone might as well turn a profit.
“Flip it? So, we wouldn’t have to actually live in it?” Her eyes brighten at the prospect.
“We should live in it for at least two years to get the full tax benefit, but then after twenty-four months, we might be able to double our money.”
“Really?” she sighs. “Two years, huh?”
Something tells me if Skyla and my mother got along better, two years wouldn’t feel like such a prison sentence.
“It’s entirely up to you, though. I wouldn’t dare force you into a thing.”
“What do you think a fair price is?” Her cheeks blush a light pink as the color comes back. Skyla looks as if she has fight in her once again.
“Too much.” My stomach sours just thinking about it. “But we can always lowball them and see what they say.”
“I guess it couldn’t hurt.” Skyla snuggles up against me, and we lose ourselves in thought for a good long while. “Back to the names…Did you think of anything else for the boys?”
“Actually, I have. How about Nathan and Barron? First one out can have your father’s name.”
Skyla takes in a huge breath. Her eyes fill with water the color of Paragon skies.
“Gage.” She presses her lips to my shoulder. “That’s perfect. And what if there’s just one boy?”
“That’s easy. We’ll name him Demetri.” I give her ribs a quick tickle, and she bucks with laughter.
“I think we should call him Gage.”
A moan rumbles from me. “I was thinking something more like Skyler.”
“I don’t think so. It would be strange calling my name out over and over, even if it did have a different spin on it. Maybe we should just give Tad the honor?” She gives my side a quick pinch, only I groan instead of laugh.
“Speaking of Tad, who do you think you’ll want in the delivery room?”
“You, of course.”
“Glad to hear I’ve got the golden ticket. Anyone else?”
“God—you’re not campaigning for your mother, are you?” Her surprise seems genuine, so I take it with a grain of salt.
She pulls back to get a better look at me. “Are you talking about Logan?”
“I was thinking about Laken, but since you brought him up—is he invited? I don’t mind. In a way, he probably should be.” I was thinking about Logan, too. It’s just too hard to outright admit it.
Skyla sags in my arms. “I don’t think it would be right. I mean, well, I’ll be naked in all the places that count—”
I’m assuming he’s seen those places, memorized them, but decided to leave that out of the conversation.
“Why are you thinking about having Logan there?” She taps my chest, her gaze unwavering from mine.
My gut wrenches. It’s one thing to think about this stuff, and another to admit it out loud.
“I just thought when I’m gone he’ll be raising those kids right alongside you. It might be nice to start building that bond with the babies from day one.”
A small cry escapes her throat as she wraps her arms around me tight.
“No, no, no. You are not going anywhere, Gage Oliver. Logan will make a great uncle, but that’s as close as he needs to be. You are the father of these children. You are my husband.” Her eyes meet with mine, lost in a sea of crimson. “I’m doing my part, Gage. I am moving heaven and Earth to make sure you live as long, if not longer than I do. As far as I’m concerned, my mother’s prophecies are full of shit.”
A wild cackle of lightning goes off outside, sending a hairline fracture popping through the window. I pull back the curtain. Sure enough, there’s a spider web of a crack embedded in the glass.
“Crap.” Tad is going to hang me by the balls if I ask him to fix it. I’ll have to take care of it myself. “Okay. I’ll do my part. I’ll see what I can do.” My hand glides over her damp cheek. “I want to be here for you, and I want to be here for our babies. Believe me, there is nothing more important to me than our little family.”
My lips find hers, and just as I’m about to dive into her mouth, Skyla pulls back in a burst of excitement.
The Serpentine Butterfly Page 47