The Dragon and the Rose

by Addison Moore

  Gage Oliver did this.

  It looks like we have something to talk about after all.

  Deep in the night as the rain hums the island to sleep with its ever-softening lullaby, Dudley and I wait for Skyla to emerge in my dreamscape.

  “Why an annoying hillside?” Dudley bitches. “Install a few benches. A café would be nice. I’ll have to bring you back to the Soullennium. That’s a perfect city in my opinion—one that Skyla very much enjoyed while spending time with me there. We had a friendly visit.”

  “I’m not gifting you a bench, Dudley.” I lie back and make shapes with the clouds. A hand with a middle finger pointed right at the friendly Sector.

  “I’m not gifting you a ride to the Decision Council if you don’t paint the sky with a more respectful image.”

  I morph the clouds until Skyla’s face smiles down at us.

  “Much better.”

  “I agree.”

  “What is this?” Her voice rises from behind me, bubbling and laughing. It turns my stomach a bit to know she was just with Gage, most likely in the most intimate way possible. But, nevertheless, just the sight of Skyla makes me smile.

  “You ready?” I jump to my feet and offer her a quick peck on the cheek. “Happy New Year.”

  “You think it’ll be happy?” She tilts her head as if the idea were farfetched, and, judging by the last year, it just might be.

  “Let’s find out.” Dudley takes up her hand and flicks me hard on the forehead.

  The landscape changes. Blue skies are exchanged for the dismal cavern behind the falls where the Council of the Superiors meets once a month. A fiery tornado burns bright in the back, and a muggy heat fills the space around us.

  All of the usual suspects are here, already seated in their crystalline chairs. I start heading toward the rear, and Skyla stops me by the hand.

  “You can sit here.” She motions to the seat beside her. Dudley doesn’t hesitate sitting on the other side.

  Nicholas Haver, a Nephilim that lives behind the gates at the Paragon Estates, picks up his ruby gavel, and, just as he’s about to slam it down over the black granite, Skyla plucks it from his hand.

  “I think my time as an observer has come to an end.” A slight smile plays on her lips. I’ve never seen her this confidant, shoulders back, even keeled, eyes slit with a look that says listen up or die. Here she is, the woman I always knew she could be. “As the overseer, I want to be the first to congratulate each of you and the members of your factions for staying strong during this difficult time of regrouping. There are a few changes I’d like to make, starting with a few teaching programs I’d like to implement.”

  The table enlivens with chatter.

  Dr. Booth nods with a long blink. “There are rumors swirling, Skyla. I bid you to put them to rest before you have full-fledged anarchy on your hands.”

  “Et tu, Dr. Booth?” Skyla curls her fingers around the gavel as the room breaks out in grumbles. “Silence.” Her voice resonates clear and high, and I’d swear on all that is holy that Skyla is morphing into her mother right before our eyes—a more palatable version, of course—the hottest version. A dull smile plays on my lips.

  Nicholas leans in. His belly spills over the stone, gobbling it up as he draws near Skyla.

  She holds a hand up, stopping him from swallowing the rest of the table with his belly.

  “I’m here to tell you all, with assurance, that not only will the Steel Barricade not prosper, but the tunnels are in the process of being permanently shut down.”

  The room grows silent. The crackle of the fire snaps through the silence as if openly refuting her words.

  “Are you dragging us into another war?” The tall Noster chick with black lipstick is ready to slit Skyla’s throat.

  “No. This is a private matter that I plan to resolve on my own.”

  “So the rumors aren’t true?” The greasy looking Count knocks his knuckles over the counter. “The Barricade poses no threat?”

  Skyla looks right at him as if she were steadying her aim, ready to shoot him with a poisoned dart. “No threat.”

  “Liar.” He stands. “I move to call Skyla Oliver, the overseer of the factions, to the Justice Alliance. I charge you with full knowledge of the danger awaiting the Nephilim people, with no manner in which to stop the enemy from prospering.”

  A wild rumble breaks out as Skyla slams the gavel, filling the cave with her thunderous drumming.

  “That’s mutiny, and I won’t stand for it,” she hisses.

  Dr. Booth shakes his head, pleading. “Skyla, tell the council this isn’t true.”

  Her mouth opens. Skyla takes a breath before closing it again.

  Shit.

  Nicholas reaches over and plucks the ruby gavel right back out of her hand.

  “All overseer duties are to be suspended until the Justice Alliance determines this to be factual.” He officiates his statement with the slam of the gavel. So much for her observation period coming to an end. Her overseer duties might be heading in that direction, too.

  “On what grounds? Hearsay?” She pounds her fists into the table. “This is bullshit! You have no evidence to back up this rumor whatsoever.”

  The Count in the corner stands. “That may be so, but I do have one damning piece of evidence that not even you would be foolish enough to deny.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I’ve discovered who’s in charge of the Barricade.” He lifts his chin. His eyes pour out the wrath of every Count who has ever hated Celestra.

  “Well, who is it?” The Goth Noster barks it out like a threat.

  “The name is Gage Oliver.” The greasy Count bites his yellowed teeth over his thin lip. “Her husband.”

  Skyla doesn’t deny it. She can’t.

  Another few minutes stretch out like hours as the meeting adjourns. Everyone stands to leave, and Dr. Booth heads in our direction.

  “Skyla, what’s going on? Is Gage in charge of the Barricade?” He pinches his eyes shut. “Geez. The pieces were all there. So it’s true what Demetri was babbling on about that night. He is Gage Oliver’s biological father.” Dr. Booth runs his fingers through his hair before clutching onto the back of his neck. “They’re going to lynch you, Skyla. You realize that by marrying him you’ve stepped in a huge pile of celestial crap.”

  Skyla looks from Dudley to me a moment. “Look, Dr. Booth, I’m not losing anything.” She pulls him into a tight embrace. “I promise you, I’m not letting my people down. I know for a fact everything works out for the good of the Nephilim.”

  He pulls back and holds her by the shoulders while his signature calm smile takes over. “It had better.”

  Dudley waits until Dr. Booth is long out of sight.

  “Ms. Messenger?” He threads his arm with hers. “Shall we see your mother now?”

  They dematerialize right before me.

  Freaking Dudley.

  Lucky for me Candace keeps court right around the corner. Actually more like down the celestial street, which on Earth would be the equivalent of a country. I run all the damn way there with laughter in my throat. I’d run through time and space for Skyla and, now, in a small way, I’m proving it. When I finally come upon them, Dudley has them both in stitches.

  “Logan?” Candace wipes the tears from her eyes. “So glad you were able to make it. Skyla insisted we wait until you could join us.”

  “Don’t worry”—Skyla wraps an arm around me—“Marshall kept us quite entertained.”

  “Glad to hear it.” I glower at him a second.

  Candace bears into her daughter. “What can I do for you? Is this regarding the case that’s been brought against you?”

  “You already know?” Skyla deflates at the thought of disappointing her mother.

  Candace strokes her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “I know so much more than I wish I did on occasion. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, if that didn’t sound ominous.” Skyla drops her f
ace in her hands a moment. “Look, I know things look pretty crappy right now, but what I really came to speak with you about is shutting down those tunnels. It’s past due. You and I both know that. Wesley has already let the children go. Now I need to get the rest of the people out of there. What authority do I have? And if I’m being dragged to court, why the hell can’t I take Wes?”

  Dudley closes his eyes a moment when she says the expletive.

  “Dear Skyla.” Her mother picks up her hands and swings them. “There’s no need for you to worry about those tunnels. All captives shall be set free in just a few short weeks.”

  “What?” Skyla shrieks with joy. “Really?” She clamps onto my shoulder and Dudley’s. “Did you hear that? They’re shutting down in just a few weeks!”

  “Permanently?” I ask. This just seems a little too easy.

  “No one said it was easy, Logan.” Candace sharpens her talons in my direction. What’s easy is to forget our thoughts are fully known here. “And to answer your question, yes, the tunnels will free all prisoners at that time.” Her lips curve in a disappointed smile as she touches her fingers to Skyla’s neck. “It’s because of you, Skyla.”

  “Because of me?”

  “Wesley said to credit you for the suggestion. He’s doing this for the woman he loves.”

  “For Laken.” Skyla sags with relief. “Yes, I did suggest it. And I’m sure Laken will be thrilled to hear it.”

  “Laken is already apprised of the situation. Her commitment to the cause is what had her agree to the terms.”

  “Terms?” She jumps in her mother’s face. “Reverse them. I swear to you, let me do whatever it is Wesley had her agree to. Please—I don’t want to put Laken in harm’s way again.”

  Dudley growls. “And yourself, Ms. Messenger?”

  “That’s my job,” she shouts. “Those are my people,” she pleads with her mother. “And, not just that, but I need a way to stop Wesley from washing the cells of those in the Barricade. I’d like to take him to Justice Alliance for that. We’re going to turn into a bunch of government lab rats if this isn’t nipped in the bud. He’s dangerous. This is my game. The ball needs to stay firmly in my court.”

  Candace openly balks at Skyla’s declaration. “Know this. You are not playing tennis with God. The ball is never in your court. The ball is always in His court. He is in control.” She takes a in a long, calming breath. “That being said, the Master does prefer nature take its course both in the human realm and the angelic. The Barricade has a self-appointed overseer.” Candace nods. “What you ask is entirely up to him.”

  “Is that Gage?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Shit,” Skyla seethes.

  Dudley coughs. “I’m afraid you daughter, Candace, is unaware of the ramifications of speaking profanity in the presence of your holiness.”

  “Yes.” Candace examines Skyla, up and down, with a bored, slightly vengeful look. “It would appear that way. As for bringing Wesley to the Justice Alliance, chromatophobia isn’t a crime, Skyla. For now, be gone. I’ve lots to do on my end with preparing for the trial in which you are starring.”

  “Will you defend me?” Skyla asks with caution and rightfully so.

  “Only when you learn to respect me.” She tosses her hand in the air and disappears in a trail of glitter.

  “I take it that means no.” She looks to Dudley.

  “I do believe you’re catching on.” He smacks his lips with disdain. “Perhaps the Pretty One here is willing to vie on your behalf? It seems he rather enjoys embroiling himself in legal matters with you. Does anyone recall the bloodbath that brought you both to court?”

  “Come here, Skyla.” I wrap my arms around her as she buries her face in my neck. “I’ll always be on your side.”

  “I wish I could say the same for Gage.”

  Me, too.

  9

  A Kiss Like That

  Skyla

  Valentine’s Day. That’s when Laken assured me the tunnels would be closed forever, and here we are on the sacred day that glorifies chubby little Cherubs chasing doily-laced hearts. Our world is immersed with the idea of love. Ironic. I wonder if Gage and I are holding fast to the idea rather than the genuine emotion. What else could come of unspoken truths? The fact we’ve spent most of our short marriage keeping things from one another doesn’t bode well.

  The wind whips my hair in a frenzy, light and fluffy, leaving it spinning toward heaven like cotton candy. I’m making my way from my psychology class to the student café before the sky slits its wrists and bleeds out all over the place. But spring looms just around the corner, and, God knows, the entire island is trying to buy into the illusion of warmer days. The maples have already started to form new buds. Their bare branches hold the promise of a new beginning. I hope Gage and I can have a new beginning soon. Logan and I decided it would be best not to start any fires before those in the tunnels are released. And I won’t until every last person in that petrified hell is home with their family. There’s one tiny detail I may have forgotten to fill Logan in on. My hand floats to my neck. I’ll be drained once a month to keep the Counts in red blood cells.

  A shiver runs through me as the bitter air slices right through my wool jacket. I need hot coffee and fast.

  I’ve texted Laken at least twelve times today. She didn’t bother showing up to our biology lab, and I’m starting to worry. I pluck my phone out and my fingers are so cold it fumbles right out of my grasp.

  “Looking for this?” A familiar dirty blonde scoops it up and hands it to me.

  “Yes, Laken.” I sharpen my brows. “I’ve been looking for a lot of things—for a lot of people.”

  “I know.” She pulls me in and my face gets buried in her smooth long curls. Laken holds the scent of cherries in springtime—everything fresh and beautiful, and yet my heart breaks because she’s yet to tell me what terms she’s agreed to with Wesley in order to free those in the tunnels. The only thing I know for sure is that Coop is completely unaware of this entire process. And to ensure he stays that way, her lips are sealed. I have no idea what Laken has gotten herself into.

  “So are you ready?”

  Her eyes close as the mist does a little dance between us.

  “Are you ready?” She lobs the question right back at me. Laken seems to think I’ll simply go in blind, and truthfully I would. But I don’t care much for her arrogance in that arena.

  “Why should I go with you when I still have no clue what’s going on?”

  “Because I’m about to tell you everything.”

  “Great. Let’s grab some coffee.” I try to pull her in the direction of the café and smack right into Bree. “Brielle?” I’m more than a little surprised to see her. For one, she doesn’t attend Host. And two, she said the Made in Paragon label was being looked at by several buyers today. If Drake and Bree sell the label to department stores, they stand to make millions. At least according to Gage—and Gage is never wrong, at least not about finance. He’s wrong about the Barricade, and once these tunnels are closed I plan on telling him just that. It’s like a holiday I’ve been waiting for has finally arrived. A very bad, terribly dark, wicked holiday that ends on an up note for every single captive.

  “Hey, bestie.” She plucks me away from Laken.

  I swear it never ends with Bree.

  “How did it go with the buyers? Are you rolling in green?”

  “You bet we are. In fact, Drake says he’s going to make it rain tonight if you know what I mean. It looks like someone’s going to get their freak on while rolling in it.” She points to herself and gives an awkward grin.

  The last couple on earth I want to envision getting their freak on is my stepbrother and the girl close enough to be my sister.

  “Speaking of freaks, have you seen Bishop?”

  “What?” I glance to Laken apologetically. “Chloe doesn’t go to Host.” Thankfully. “She’s banished. She goes and stays in hell.” Not really, but it
does have a nice ring to it.

  “That’s weird because she mentioned she was going to the OBGYN on Host this afternoon. I just thought it was some new frat house.”

  “OBGYN?” Laken steps in. “That’s a maternity doctor.”

  Brielle stares at her vacantly.

  “Pregnant women see them.” Laken sighs, exasperated.

  “Oh, that’s right!” Brielle honks out a laugh. “I never did bother with that. I mean, I was in cheer, so already I knew I was getting plenty of exercise.”

  I snatch Bree by the sleeve. “Why is Chloe seeing a baby doctor?”

  “I don’t know, maybe that new hottie who’s stoking the flames with her down under has filled up her tank? Can you imagine, Chloe Bishop as some poor child’s mother?” Brielle gives a loud, dizzying laugh. And, believe me, I’d join her if it weren’t so hurtful, for Laken—if it weren’t so unfortunate for the poor, innocent child.

  “Look”—Laken pulls me forward—“I wish I could say we care, but we don’t. If Chloe wants to have a dozen babies with Wes, she can be my guest.” She tugs me along until my feet stumble to keep up with her. “Excuse us, Bree. My bestie and I have something important we need to take care of.” Laken sets her face to the wind. “How do we get to where that expecting little devil dwells with Wes?”

  “We jump off a cliff.”

  “Hey, where are you going?” Bree shouts after us.

  “To hell,” Laken shouts back.

  I have a feeling the rest of this day will be exactly that—hell.

  Laken and I finally arrive at Devil’s Peak, and no sooner do we get out of the Mustang than she bursts into tears.

  “Whoa, come here.” I pull her in as she sobs over my shoulder. I’m not so sure I’ve ever seen Laken shed so much as a tear. “Is this about Wes?”

  She nods into me before pulling back.

  “It’s stupid. Chloe told me they were trying. I knew that it would eventually happen for them, I just didn’t imagine that the reality would leave me feeling so gutted.”