“There is only one strategy that will work to destroy your enemy.”
I soak her in, pale as a creature that lives under a rock.
“What strategy is that, Em?”
“Their own.” The fog swirls between us thick as a tribe of ghosts. “Take Wesley’s plan and turn it on its ear. You’ll have to turn the entire Steel Barricade over to the government. Only then will you be victorious.”
It’s as if Paragon suddenly spins like a top, the sky and the ground trade places, and the earth drinks me down as if I’m standing on quick sand. Every last part of me knows she is right.
“You’ll defect from the Barricade?” I ask as she sheds the slightest impression of a smile.
“If I think you can pull it off.”
“I will drown every last soul in the Barricade like a rat for the sake of my people and this weary world that has no idea what hell has hit it. Now, get out of my way, Emily, and until you’ve sealed your alliance, don’t speak to me.”
I collect the boys and head inside.
I don’t need friends. I don’t need a husband.
The only thing I need is justice, and I will bring it about by my own hands.
Christmas Eve on Paragon is devoid of snow. Instead, it brings its slutty younger cousin, sleet. Of course, the day is still young yet. It’s not even ten in the morning.
The boys scoot down the stairs on their bottoms just the way I’ve taught them and run like mad once they reach the foyer. No sooner do I get downstairs than Mia accosts me. Her hair sits in a messy bun on top of her head, yesterday’s mascara runs down her cheeks like rain, and she looks worn, bitter, weary of all that life has to offer. Join the club, sister, I want to tell her.
She digs her fingers into my shoulders and pins me to the accordion door that leads to the washing machine. “I made a mistake, Skyla. I don’t want to be married to Gabriel Armistead. He’s an asshole!” she hisses just above a whisper.
A burst of laughter comes from the family room, and that egregiously large TV Drake has decorated it with shows a lime green forest filled with animated versions of Gabriel, Drake, and Ethan running with guns. It’s been one long video sesh ever since he moved into his new wife’s bedroom. I don’t know why I expected anything different. Mia is simply following my horrific lead.
Melissa leans over the banister. “Gabe is an asshole!” she thunders down the stairs and is in our faces in no time. My stepsiblings, Melissa, Drake, and Ethan, all share the same dark hair, same sickle-like widow’s peak, same glimmer for mischief in their Landon-colored eyes. “I think we should plot to kill him.”
“I am on a murderous spree,” I say mostly to myself as I look to the family room where Gabe lifts a leg and lets one rip, and the under-five crowd’s laughter singes the ceiling. “I could hone my methods on him.”
Melissa gives a wild nod. “I suggest poison. Dominique sells this toxic shit down at the apothecary that could kill a man in fifteen minutes. Painful death. It’s called wolfsbane. I could pick up the capsules and we’ll bust ’em open and sprinkle them over his Captain Crunch.”
Gabriel Armistead eats his weight in carbohydrates every single day, and believe me, that nutritional malfeasance has not gone unnoticed by my oft frugal and ornery stepfather, Tad Landon. Technically, Lizbeth is my stepmother, too, but I’ve never regarded her that way. My father married her after my birthmother, Candace, died in a fire, but Lizbeth is just as much my mother, if not more.
“That’s too easy,” I say as another round of laughter emits from the family room and the sound is like acid poured over my open wounds. I hate that anyone should be happy. I hate that this entire holiday season rotates around joy and laughter. I’d rather the world suffocate in Gabe’s bodily emissions than curve their lips to the sky another second. “We need to make him pay. We need to show him that he’s made a huge error. That whatever has driven him into insanity’s arms wasn’t worth it. We need to make him beg for mercy that will never come.”
“Cool.” Mia staggers back in awe just as Melissa smacks her on the arm.
“She’s talking about the prick who left her. Don’t you see? She’s in a trance. God help Gabe if she treats him like she wants to treat Gage. Hey! Those two assholes are just one letter apart—and one sister apart!”
Mia scoffs. “Good riddance to them both. Help me give him the boot, Skyla. Just the way you gave Gage the boot. You switch out boys in your life like a crop rotation. The only reason you stayed with Gage so long is because he knocked you up. And once you got bored, you kicked him to the curb.”
If only.
“Damn right,” I say tongue-in-cheek, but they don’t know that. “And don’t you forget it. Feel free to kick the boys in your life to the curb once you’re bored with them.”
Before they do it to you.
A breath hitches in my throat. I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with the details that have transpired in the last few weeks. Yes, they are both aware that Gage started another Faction war, usurped my standing in the heavenlies, and soaked the earth with Noster blood, but there is one devilish detail I’ve been withholding.
I take a deep breath. “I have to tell you both something. The night of the boys’ birthday party Demetri said Gage would marry me if I showed up to his place. Chloe was there. He chose her. End of story.”
Mia and Melissa lose the color in their faces, their eyes set wide like granite stones.
“Damn, Skyla,” Melissa croaks. “And here I looked up to the two of you. If you guys couldn’t make it work, then true love really doesn’t exist. I give up.”
“Damn right.” Bree inserts herself into our holy huddle without warning. “Now stop all this talk about breakups and makeups. Broken hearts do not a Christmas Eve make.” She wrinkles her nose. “Skyla, I totally forgive you for that outburst the other day. This day is about getting high and presents! Oh hell, I don’t mind spoiling your gifts one bit. I got each of you a vibrator for Christmas!” She claps and does an odd little dance as if she had one trapped in her jeans right this moment.
“Bree!” I squawk. “They’re in high school. I forbid you from distributing electronic sexual devices to minors this Christmas—especially if said minors belong to this family.”
“Skyla!” both Mia and Melissa whine in synch. But I don’t listen. I start to take off with Bree by my side. “Make sure mine is an extra-large. I have a deficit to make up for.”
“You bet!” Bree smacks a kiss onto my cheek. “You know I love you, Messenger.”
“I’m still killing Chloe.”
“You’ll change your mind yet!” she calls out as I head into the kitchen where Mom and Tad are huddled and whispering amongst themselves.
Mom has dyed her hair a bright shade of red for the holidays. She’s made it a point to wear both green and red exclusively from Thanksgiving on. You get my mother on a kick and she’s diehard until the very end. She held her annual craft fair at the community center this year after Demetri got the city council to waive the permit fees.
I didn’t go. For one, Chloe’s mother was there regaling the masses with those ridiculous chicken hats again this year. I threatened my mother within an inch of her life if she brought a single one home. I don’t want any evidence that the Bishops live on this island in my face.
And out of respect for my current situation with Gage, my mother and Demetri decided—let me say that again because I cannot believe the lunacy—my mother and Demetri decided it would be best to host my mother’s annual Christmas Eve bash somewhere neutral. When Demetri volunteered his haunted hovel, I growled at him like Cerberus on acid. But then, Marshall stepped up and offered his carnal kingdom, and so that’s where we’ll be in just a few hours. I’m glad about it, too. I plan on staying for the requisite dinner, then hightailing it out of there with the boys. I figure that will be long enough for Emma and Barron to fawn over their grandchildren. Gage hasn’t seen the kids since that fateful night. I’m hoping he’ll never show his face ag
ain.
Gabriel Armistead launches another grenade from his rear and Nathan and Barron scream with laughter.
As much as I wish I could do it, I will never stop seeing Gage Oliver’s face. I see him in duplicate each and every day. I kiss his face when I kiss the boys and it breaks my heart all over again.
“Skyla!” Mom giggles my way and rouses me from my stupor. “Tad and I have a very exciting announcement to share.”
A breath hitches in my throat as I look to the two of them. “What is it?” I spit the words out, knife-sharp and angry. God knows my mother and step-dolt never have anything good or productive brewing. Poor Tad is just a sock puppet that the Fems and Counts like to toy with. My God, they haven’t even figured out a useful way to utilize him for their wicked regime.
“Ah-ah!” Tad barks like a seal. “All in good time. This announcement is so big we’re saving it for tonight.” He looks to my mother. “We’ll purge Professor Dudley of his finest champs and then we’ll drop the bomb.”
“Finest champs,” Mom bubbles as if she herself could be poured into a crystal flute. “This is big news, Skyla. Believe me when I say it will change everything. Nothing will ever be the same again!”
“I’ve already crossed that bridge, Mother.” I head to the fridge and stare at the meager offerings.
Mom comes in close and plucks at my hair. “Oh, honey. I have to tell you something.”
I close the fridge and offer her my full attention, not that my attention span is anything to be impressed by these days.
“A little birdie told me that Gage will be there this evening.”
A jolt runs through me, quick as a lightning strike, and my adrenaline hits unsafe levels for this early in the morning.
“Then she’ll be with him,” I whisper to myself as a brief vision of Gage and Chloe linked at the arm wafts through my mind, their mouths filled with laughter and mine with vomit.
“I can’t go.”
“Oh, Skyla.” She gives my fingers a tug. “You can and you will. Gage is just going through a phase. He’s trying to make you jealous. Men are foolish that way.”
All I see are flames, the same inferno that burned in Shaddai that night he took Chloe and consummated their union.
“This is no phase, Mother. This is an eternal betrayal. Chloe is the noose he’s decided to hang himself with.”
She scoffs at the thought. “You’ve always been a bit of a drama queen. He’ll come around. You’ll see. In the meantime, I want you to enjoy having that bed all to yourself. You don’t ever have to worry about finding the seat up on the toilet and you get command of the remote control. Half the married women in the country would die to have a vacation from their spouse.” She gives a slotted glare to Tad.
“You do realize you’re projecting.” I don’t mind pointing out the obvious. “I never cared about those things with Gage.”
She coos at me while cupping the side of my face. “That’s because you’re in love. And believe me when I say he’s in love with you. Don’t doubt it for a minute. Skyla, you of all people know how deep his love runs for you. None of this makes sense any other way.”
“He’s with Chloe because he loves me.” I can’t even fashion it as a question.
She gives a frantic nod. “That’s right. Just remember that.” She gives my cheek a pinch and takes off.
Gage and Chloe will be there tonight—in the same room as me on Christmas, as if they were offering their union as a gift to Paragon. I almost want to laugh, but tears seem a far closer companion.
Bree and Em crop up, wide-eyed.
“We heard the news!” Bree juts her head out like a chicken as they both await a response from me.
“I’m going.” I swallow hard because, face it, everything about tonight will be hard.
“Good for you, Messenger,” Em says with the same enthusiasm one might reserve when stumbling upon a dead cat.
“You bet that’s good.” Bree whisks me toward the hall. “Now we just need to get you looking your best. Gage Oliver is going to eat his heart out when he sees you tonight. Nobody takes my bestie’s heart and breaks it. That boy is going to be in hell once he sees what he’s given up.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.”
And just like that, Bree and I get to work.
Marshall Dudley’s estate holds a supernatural appeal on any given day, but on this holiest evening of the year, lit up like a gingerbread house, it looks as if it was dropped out of heaven. Too bad it didn’t land on a Bishop. Chloe to be exact. The Wicked Witch of West lives to torment another day. I’ve given a lot of thought to my murderous intentions. My mother might have cast a protective hedge over Chloe when we traveled back in time last spring, but certainly those misguided intentions can’t last forever.
“What’s with the ghosts?” I ask as my mother unleashes the boys from their car seats. At least a dozen white ghoulish creatures are staked around the entry of Marshall’s home, each donning his or her own Santa hat. Spider webs have been tossed errantly around the porch, and if I’m not mistaken, they’re catching the light with red and green glitter.
“You know, all those Christmas carols are rife with keeping spirits bright, tales of ghost stories, ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future. It’s richly embedded into holiday tradition but never fully explored. I festooned the entire property inside and out as if it were a holiday haunted house. You don’t think it’s appropriate?”
“Oh, I think it’s appropriate. I think it is very, very appropriate.”
She snickers as she points to Tad. “And I brought my very own Scrooge! Oh, wait until you hear the great news, Skyla! Just you wait!”
She picks up each of the boys’ hands and scuttles off without me. Tad hobbles off after them, and now that I think about it, he is rather Scrooge-esque—too bad it’s a year-round event. Although he’s donned quite the festive ensemble, a bright green suit with an electronic bowtie that blinks on and off in red and green.
Mia and Melissa link arms while Gabe strides ahead of them like the gentleman he is not.
Ethan helps Em waddle to the door, along with Ember and Misty—two tiny cherubs singing out of tune and looking adorable while doing so. Drake heads over with Beau Geste while Bree lands an arm on my shoulder.
“Well, Messenger?” Brielle wrinkles her nose. “You look like a firecracker. You could have looked hotter, though.” Bree had two different department stores bring over their best personal shoppers with about sixteen dresses each. It’s safe to say she wanted me to have options. She then proceeded to tip each girl a cool thousand. Honestly? I hope Bree and Drake suck all the money out of Demetri’s faux bank account—and sadly, that’s exactly where they’re getting it.
“Yeah, I could have.” But I chose to eschew the skintight red sequin Mrs. Naughty Santa number that Bree voted for and played it safe with a black velvet dress strewn with pearlescent dots that just so happens to hug my hips and show off my new svelte figure.
I inadvertently went on the Gage Oliver is an Asshole Diet last October after he eviscerated my people. On the bright side, I’m now just as trim as I was before I had the boys. There is some practicality to debilitating grief. But God forbid if you don’t have a few pounds to lose. I would have hit heart-stopping levels if I didn’t go into this nightmare with a little padding. And because of that, I plan on gaining back at least ten pounds. Insurance against any more heartbreak the aforementioned asshole plans on thrusting my way.
“Come on.” Bree leads us down the haunted walk, complete with blue fog floating at our feet and music bleeding from some unknown speakers that sounds as if someone is moaning in nonstop pain. The playlist of my heart. My mother knows me, after all.
Inside, the crowded house is decked with garland wrapped in spider webs, gossamer hangs right along with the mistletoe, and there are just as many skulls as there are cherry red bows. Seems about right.
“Shit,” Bree hisses as she looks at something to our left.
“They’re here.” She gives my hand a hard tug. “Gage and Chloe. Don’t freak. They’re holding the boys.”
“They’re holding the boys?” Instantly, I’m lit with rage. My body goes numb and spikes with heat at the very same time. It’s an odd sensation, but in truth I’m so all over the place with my emotions I can’t blame my poor body for not knowing which direction to go in with this. “Holy hell.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Bree’s eyes gloss over with tears just for me.
“No, I mean I’m going to give them holy hell.”
“Skyla! It’s Christmas.”
“Look around. It’s Christmas in hell, Bree.”
I brush past her into the ever-thickening crowd. The Christmas carols blare overhead, but the cheery sound is only rivaled by the chatter of the joyful crowd. The faces, those pasty, pasty faces of souls long since gone by, turn to look my way as I struggle to make my way through their thick red crinoline bustles, the tartan plaid gowns with egregiously long trains, emerald taffeta—my God, it’s prom night for the long deceased. I spot Dominique Winters chortling away with a small crowd, and something in me enlivens as I make her my first target of the night.
“Skyla!” The sounds of a familiar husky voice boom from behind, but I eschew the familiarity for far more unfamiliar pastures.
“Dominique,” I say breathlessly as I come upon the small crowd of hussies from yesteryear. It’s a trio of can-can girls with their ruffled dresses in jewel tones of amber, ruby, and sapphire, cut high in the front to give any horny ghost a snatch-shot and long enough in the back to let the ladies in the room know where to stand.
“Skyla.” Dominique’s eyes cut to slits. Her blood red hair hangs long and luxurious in glossy tendrils like well-behaved garden snakes. Her lavender eyes sparkle with evil. Her skin is so paper-white it hurts to look at, and that dark mole between her left cheek and lip only adds to her wicked beauty. She’s donned a long, black satin gown that plunges generously into her décolleté and shows off those powder white tits for all to see. Most likely Demetri. But it’s that scar across her neck that brings me pleasure to look at. I put it there just a few months ago when I tried to kill her. I wanted her life, her body on a spit after I found out that she was the one who killed my Gage—the one I thought I knew. The one I mourned for, still do.
All Hail the King (Celestra Forever After Book 6) Page 9