All Hail the King (Celestra Forever After Book 6)

by Addison Moore

  His lips twitch and his lids hood low as if he were threatening to hike my dress up and take me right here. Not that I would mind all that much. There is a mighty big, relatively private yard out back.

  “To Whitehorse,” Logan says, navigating me to the door.

  “What about the food?”

  “I’m going to make sure you really work up an appetite.”

  “That won’t be a problem. And for the record, I always have an appetite for you.”

  “Good. Because I’m about to give you a whole lot more than a slice.”

  And he does. Logan gives me every luscious bite of him.

  Halloween on Paragon is more or less a day to celebrate the true identity of this island. At its core it holds the essence of that haunted day. It seems every house has donned its own version of a mask, with its adorable pumpkins, spider webs covering every spare inch, the scarecrows, the witches, the ghosts, and the blowup cats and spiders alike.

  Logan and I drop off the boys at preschool as usual. There are no costumes allowed at Emma’s pristine little snooty institute of learning. I should have known that with Emma in charge there would be no fun. But on the way over Logan and I had a great time pointing out the people already dressed for trick-or-treating success on the streets and in the cars around us. Both Nathan and Barron could hardly contain themselves. They’re both going to dress up as dinosaurs for Tobie’s birthday party, which is being held at Laken and Wesley’s right after school is out. Then, of course, it’s time to party for the rest of us at Marshall’s estate later this evening. My mother has taken great pains these last few weeks to make sure everything goes off without a hairy hitch this time. As if it were her fault the feds or the new Faction war had put a pin in the festivities in years past.

  My stomach tightens and I grunt.

  “Another one?” Logan’s eyes widen as he drives us to Whitehorse.

  “Just something small. I promise you they’re nothing but harmless Braxton Hicks—practice contractions basically. I’ve done this before, remember?”

  “I remember. I was there. Remember?” He flashes a grin as we pull into the driveway and Logan helps me waddle inside and all the way to the Wonderground.

  Both Ezrina and Nev are there to greet us with a fresh box of donuts, every variety and every delicious color. Nev presents me with yet another pink box fresh from the Gas Lab.

  “This one is exclusively for Skyla.” He opens it up to reveal six glazed crullers and six regular glazed, and my heart seizes with delight at the sight of them.

  “I’m going to eat them all.”

  “No one doubted you,” a chipper voice calls from behind, and soon enough we’re treated to Ellis’ smiling face. “You ready to do this?”

  “I’m ready to do it all,” I say.

  Brody and Coop join us, and soon Marshall arrives.

  “Your mother,” Marshall says it directly to me as he closes his eyes with a look of exasperation on his face. He doesn’t need to add another word because I get it. Lizbeth Landon can be extra any day of the week. But put her in charge of a holiday extravaganza, and you have a recipe for disaster.

  “I almost feel sorry for you.” I push my box of goodies his way, and he quickly shakes his head as he takes a seat across from me. The entire lot of us gathers around the table with Gage Oliver’s head bobbing in its blue keeping solution as if he were happy to be present and accounted for, too.

  “Now”—Marshall looks around at all the faces amassed, and I can feel the disappointment oozing from him—“I gather none of you have heard the news. And why would you? Outside of checking the status of your latest selfie, not one of you is an ardent follower of current events.”

  Ellis shakes his head. “They’re so damn depressing.”

  “Yes, well”—Marshall takes a quick breath—“they aren’t as depressing today as they are alarming. Six of the missing Celestra from Brazil have been returned.”

  “What?” I gasp as each of us reaches for our phone and begins to pull up any information we can about it.

  Logan sighs. “Six men, presumed missing, wandered back into a neighboring village late last night. They were said to have been on a spiritual journey that focused on wellbeing and healing, deep in the Amazon rainforest. They have limited memories of what’s happened to them. Their families were thrilled to be reunited. However, twenty-four men from the surrounding areas are still outstanding. It was initially believed that drug lords captured and killed the men, burying them in an undisclosed mass grave. There were many tips in the area that alluded to the grim conclusion. Authorities are investigating and searching the area once again.”

  “The feds put out the leak,” I say. “They want the world to feel secure that crime is king. And that’s exactly how they keep their hands clean.”

  Marshall ticks his head. “That’s how they’ve always kept their hands clean.”

  Ezrina inspects her phone with marked scrutiny. “Rest assured, they’re tracking them. As I will be. They wouldn’t have released them unless they made considerable strides with their analysis of our kind. They may have even isolated the marker by now themselves. This is false security for our people. They want to capture us all. I don’t doubt this.”

  My heart jumps. “I’m calling a moratorium on Faction meetings worldwide. The last thing we need is someone with a virtual ankle bracelet wandering in and exposing the rest of us.”

  Logan tips his head back. “Speaking of exposing the rest of us.” He nods my way.

  “I’ve made a list,” I say, my throat raw just pushing the words out as I slip the paper to Ellis on my left and it circulates around the table. “These people are Wesley’s—and you-know-whose”—I take a moment to glare at Gage’s soggy apex, his hair floating happily as if it were waving to me—“brightest and the best. Sixteen names. Sixteen people who have pledged their undying allegiance to the Barricade.”

  Brody groans, “Skyla, you have all the Winters on this list.”

  “I realize that. I made the list, Brody. I’m well aware who’s on it.”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t do it. I mean, I get why you want to do it.” He nods to Gage. “Retribution for Dominique lopping his head off. But Paragon has enough issues.”

  “He’s right.” Marshall presses those crimson eyes my way. “Think before you leap. Leave your wound at the foot of your door, Ms. Messenger. This isn’t the time or place. Deflect from the island as much as you can. Fill the void with others, or leave it empty if you must. There is no rush. We can work in phases.”

  I rest my hands over my mouth as if I were praying. “Okay. We’ll take them off the list for now. Nev has agreed to contact the authorities on Raven’s Eye. He’ll report in various ways in various accents and languages, all through untraceable modalities. He’ll report levitation, teleportation, inhuman strength and speed. All buzzwords that should initiate an investigation from our feds across the way. The feds will be in a panic trying to contain the madness. It’s exactly what we want.”

  Coop offers a careful nod. “And we are firm in alluding to the fact that they are aliens.”

  “We are,” I assure. “In fact, we’ve agreed on peppering the language with references to a place called Eversor.” I flash a brief smile at my floating ex-husband. “I’m sure the feds will have a field day trying to figure out if it’s a planet or the mother ship.”

  Ellis drums his fingers over the table. “Why not just turn in Gage, Wes, and Chloe? Cut them off at the quick? Who the hell cares if Paragon falls under a spotlight? We’re fooling ourselves if you don’t think we’re not already under their watchful eye.”

  A sigh expels from me. “Ellis, I can assure you I’ve considered this. It would be the ideal scenario.” My mind drifts for a moment envisioning the beauty. “But not only would that put Laken, the boys, and Chloe’s children in peril, but the Olivers, Logan and Liam included, Chloe’s family”—I glance to Brody—“mine. And in an act of retribution, Gage or Wes might jus
t take down what’s left of Celestra by turning us all in. As it stands, they’re more interested in having the final few cross over. They want surrender on my part, and I can’t do that. I can’t unravel the Factions. Not like that.”

  Marshall knocks over the table. “And the Viden youth? What becomes of them now?”

  I glance to Ezrina and we share a secret smile. “Yes, they return to their families tonight as well. We have three Levatio in our organization and they have agreed to help transport the Viden youth to Sedona, Arizona, to what is known as the Red Rock Vortex, a long believed celestial portal.”

  Brody chuckles. “We’re going to play off the myths and fears. And, sadly, the world is thirsty to quantify all their myths and fears.” He looks to Ezrina. “And the serum to hide the markers?”

  Ezrina nods. “Enough. More than enough. I have trained fifteen specialists worldwide.” She glances at Coop. “And one here.”

  Coop lifts a finger. “But these are temporary vaccines. We still haven’t found the holy grail.”

  Brody leans toward Ezrina. “Is this regenerative? What are we in need of to replenish the supply?”

  “Nothing.” Her eyes narrow to some invisible horizon. “The stem cells I retrieved from Skyla, from her bones, her skin, her blood, have all worked in conjunction with the new batch of mushrooms.”

  I nod. “The new batch being the recent vomit from this pregnancy plus soil from the Transfer.” For reasons unknown to me, I’m unusually proud of my talented vomit. “And Ezrina completed the molecular codes that link the hyper regeneration with a key in Nephilim DNA.” I blink a quick smile.

  Ezrina’s mouth crimps and she looks a touch surprised. “Well done.”

  “All my time stalking you in the lab has finally paid off,” I tease.

  Coop bumps a dry laugh because he and Logan have been right there with me.

  “And don’t forget”—he starts—“the ultimate key, the holy grail indeed, is the hope that the stem cells of that child you’re carrying will provide the immortalized cell line we so desperately need.”

  “It will.” I place my hand over my belly and she offers up a gentle kick as if agreeing.

  Nev takes ahold of the list and his lips twist as he examines the names one by one. “So, it’s decided?”

  I take a breath. “It is decided. Long live the Retribution League. Long live Celestra and our people.”

  “Hear, hear,” they all say in unison, and just like that, David is ready to take on Goliath.

  Laken has gone all out for Tobie’s birthday party. Usually it’s Demetri who hands the party-planning reins to my mother, but on this, Tobie’s third birthday, Wes and Laken have chosen to go it alone. And I do mean alone.

  Chloe, Tobie’s birth monster, has merely shown up as a guest. And believe you me, I was reconsidering my own attendance, but Tobie asked me as if she was leaving preschool yesterday if I would pleases comes to her parties. I couldn’t refuse an invitation like that. Besides, Laken sent me a formal invite weeks ago. And, of course, the boys wouldn’t miss it, and apparently, neither could every toddler on the island.

  Wesley and Laken’s park-like backyard is a virtual playground for the tiny tots of Paragon. There are six different bounce houses gyrating to the rhythm of happy screams and children’s music blaring at ungodly decibels. There’s an actual midway installed, complete with games and prizes. There are more cotton candy, churros, and ice cream installations than I can count, and there’s a giant pink cake large enough for the birthday princess herself to pop out of.

  Since it’s Halloween, there’s a severe pumpkin theme. Laken has opted to have nothing even remotely scary. Instead, she’s opted for a harvest motif. Of course, every child and half the adults present are in costume, the boys included. What would a party be without a couple of headless dinosaurs? Nathan and Barron have donned their suits, but when it came time for their hooded masks, they refused the offer.

  Tobie runs up just as Logan heads off to get me a water bottle out of the cooler.

  “Mama Kyla!” She tugs at my dress, and I melt as she doles out the moniker. She’s been calling me that less and less these days, but it sure feels good to hear it. Who would have thought I’d be so enamored with Chloe’s daughter? But the other daughter? Not so much. “It’s my birfday!” Her dark wavy hair is expertly combed back into a glossy ponytail with such a mirror shine to it I can see my reflection. There’s a crooked tiara pressed over the top of her head, and she’s wearing a pastel rainbow tutu that’s as big and fluffy as a cloud—if that cloud were as big as the island. She hardly fits into the opening of those bounce houses Wesley has paid for. I witnessed her struggle to squeeze out of one, and it looked as if the bounce house was giving birth.

  “That’s right,” I say. “You’re the prettiest, sweetest birthday princess at the party!”

  “I know.” She nods up at me in earnest. “Natey and Barron are going—are going to mawy me today. I going to mawy two dinosaurs.”

  “Oh, wow. That will be very exciting.”

  She runs off, and as much as I want to laugh off her delusions, a part of me shudders instead. Yes, I’ve teased that I want that very thing to happen—Tobie and one of my sons, but it was in jest. The reality would be much more jarring. Although, I would much rather that scenario play out one day than Chloe marrying my husband.

  A dark realization sets in.

  My husband actually left me for Chloe Bishop. And to top it all off, he had the nerve to procreate with her.

  I spot the dastardly duo laughing it up across the yard with Emily and Bree and suddenly feel the need to kill or maim.

  “Easy,” Logan says as he comes up with my drink. He’s donned his old football jersey from West and so has Gage. It’s a heartbreaking scene to witness, all things considering. That framed picture I have of the two of them on the field of West Paragon High comes to mind. Me in my cheer uniform standing on Gage’s helmet to make up the height difference while Logan and Gage flank me on either side. It feels like just yesterday. We were so content in our little holy huddle. We thought we were impervious to destruction—at least amongst the three of us. And here we are today. At war. In hell. Done for in so many ways.

  I lean against my favorite Oliver. “Would it be wrong of me to say I have an intense craving for a birthday massacre?”

  “In light of all the party massacres we’ve had on Paragon, I’m going to go with yes.” His lips twist in a warm smile, and the memory of our heated afternoon sweeps through my mind. Logan and I have made it a practice that once we drop the boys off at preschool, we head back to Whitehorse for a little late morning snack, of each other. Logan is a master in the bedroom. He can play my body like a well-tuned fiddle—okay, so perhaps a severely out of tune and bloated fiddle, but nonetheless.

  His lids are hooded, his smile slowly fading as he gets that look on his face that signals to my girl parts that it’s time to unleash the floodgates.

  “Logan”—Wes calls from the house—“help me put together the bike I got Tobie. I can’t figure out the seat from the handlebars.”

  Logan shoots him a look before landing a kiss to my nose. “And he’s the brains of the Barricade. I think we’ve got this in the bag. Find a seat and take a load off those feet.”

  “Did you just call me a load? If so, you’re definitely not the brains of the Retribution League,” I tease.

  He winces as he heads on in.

  Laken comes over looking impossibly thin in her tight blue jeans, black sweater with a sequin jack-o-lantern over the front, and a purple witch’s hat pressed over her head.

  “Hey, girl!” She hooks an arm around my neck as she attempts to hug me over my gigantic belly.

  “You’d better give Chloe back her hat before she casts a spell on your husband, too.”

  She bubbles with a laugh. “Believe me, there’s no spell she could cast on Wes to take him away from me.” She catches herself and gasps. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No,
it’s okay. I’ve long suspected that Wesley’s obsession with you is impervious to sound logic, reasoning, and incantations. There’s not a restraining order on the planet, material or spiritual, that could keep that boy away from you. You’ve got a grade A bona fide stalker on your hands. But don’t worry. When you do decide to finally toss him to the curb, I’ve got a special place in Tenebrous reserved just for him. I’ve been wondering how to cork that volcano.”

  “Ha-ha, I’m not laughing.”

  “I’m not either. Where’s baby Wesley Cooper? You do realize I will forever reference his middle name when I speak of him.”

  “That’s what it’s there for.” She shrugs as if she were indifferent, but I know she’s not. “He’s with your mother. And before you ask, no, I’m not giving him away.”

  “That’s because you’re not Chloe.”

  And just like that, the Wicked Witch of West pops up before us.

  “Calling my name, Skyla?” Chloe, too, looks ridiculously thin—but then, when you morph out to the size of a small condo, even heavyweight boxers begin to look unnaturally thin. “It’s times like these I think you have a sick obsession with me.” She gives a sly wink. Her hair is just as glossy and wavy as the birthday girl’s, her skin is flawless, and she has that wicked gleam in her eyes that assures me all is well in the hell that is Chloe Bishop Oliver.

  Kresley pops up holding Mally and I try my hardest not to look the baby in the face. But I can feel her there to the right, like a hot poker just waiting to puncture my heart at a single glance.

  Kresley looks stunning dressed as a vampire. Her face looks as if it were ripped right out of a magazine, partially because I’m convinced it was. Ezrina had to have followed a pattern to get those features just so, and who could blame her?

  “She’s wet.” Kres tries handing the baby to Chloe and the wicked witch recoils.