Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7)

by Addison Moore

  “So overrated.” I roll my eyes without meaning to.

  “Oh, don’t say that.” Mom sags with disappointment. “You’ll get to college and wish they had those special boy-girl get-togethers.”

  “They do, Lizbeth.” Tad belches. “It’s called ‘the weekend.’”

  “He’s right,” Brielle chimes in. “Every weekend is a freaking party. My sister’s not even coming home for summer vacation.”

  I keep forgetting Brielle has relations other than her mom.

  The door whooshes open and, speaking of her mom, Darla enters on cue with her undesirable, not-so-human other half—Demetri.

  She breezes by and plucks the baby out of Brielle’s hands.

  “Beau Geste.” Darla coos into the tiny bundle. “That’s a big name for a little bugger.” Her short pixie hair spikes him in the face every now and again, and he starts in on the world’s softest cry.

  “Here, let me.” Mom hitches a crimson lock behind her ear and pries the infant right from Darla’s unwilling hands. She bounces him up over her shoulder gently, and he quiets down to the bleating of a lamb. Meanwhile, Mom is totally missing the uber pissed off expression on Darla’s face.

  “Skyla.” Demetri has the nerve to breathe my name as he nods hello. As if he didn’t just make a withdrawal from my blood bank and deposit it straight into some hungry Count’s stomach.

  I don’t respond. I refuse to look at him or acknowledge his existence. He killed my father, and now he wants me in the grave next door. Well, it ain’t happening.

  Mom tap dances with the infant in her arms. “I’m throwing a big graduation party at my house next weekend for Ethan.” She exaggerates a whisper while patting away at the baby’s back. “You’re all invited. We’re family now.” She adds that last part in a trancelike state while gazing into Demetri as though it were their infant she were slapping into oblivion.

  I wish my mother would lose her obsession with the demon that stands before her, and yet, her fascination with the blunder from down under continues to fester. I bet she’d like nothing more than to have a big, giant, family with that hook-nosed rat.

  “We’ve always been family, Lizbeth,” he says, relaxing his arm around her waist as she cradles the newborn babe.

  “My turn,” I declare, holding out my hands. I’ve never held an infant, but I won’t let my reluctance stop me from breaking up the love fest between my mother and the malignant spirit nestled up beside her.

  Mom comes over and places the tiny bundle into my waiting arms.

  “He’s so light!” It’s like holding air. I swear he weighs less than the blanket.

  “Eight pounds six ounces,” Brielle scoffs. “I have the stretch marks on my ass to prove it. And by the way, Gage did fantastic.”

  I hear Brielle’s voice on the periphery, but I’m spellbound by this beautiful, tiny creature—his dot of a nose, perfect bowtie lips that purse for no reason.

  “He’s so sweet,” I whisper, amazed at the sight of him.

  “He’s a prince I tell you,” Mom sings. “By the way, Gage is a hero. He’s truly amazing. You are one lucky girl, Skyla. That boy is a keeper.”

  I turn just enough so my mother doesn’t see the sorrow in my face.

  Baby Beau fidgets and squirms to life. His lips twitch, and he presses his face into my chest.

  “He’s a boob man,” Darla says it proud while taking him back.

  “Just like his daddy.” Brielle is quick to point out.

  Lovely.

  Demetri steps toward me. His ebony hair is swept back in a series of coarse waves.

  “Better already?” His dark eyes try to hide their mocking laughter.

  “You better watch your back,” I whisper. “I plan on telling my mother every little horrific detail of your den of terror and what that meant for yours truly.”

  “Your mother?” His lips curve on the sides. “Which one?”

  “Both,” I seethe.

  “What if I told you they already knew?”

  I don’t say anything—just pass a glance at my mother who is openly denying something to Darla—probably the fact Demetri is an asshole.

  He gives a hard sniff. “Regardless of what you believe, I don’t desire to harm you.”

  “Liar.”

  Chapter 10

  Tactical Alert

  Bitterness descends from the sky in heavy sheets. I drive through a torrent of black rain on my way to Marshall’s house. Long, striated spears fall from the sky and create a blinding barrier, leaving the windshield wipers pulsing over the glass just enough to glaze it.

  I run out, holding my jacket above my head, and manage to saturate myself by the time I hit the door. I give three brisk knocks, and Marshall answers with his alarming good looks. He should be outlawed for showing off his flawless features, for pressing up against the landscape and out bidding the beauty that God afforded around him.

  “I need you,” I say, barreling past him and dropping my sopping coat on the floor.

  “Love in the afternoon? I’m more than happy to oblige.” He’s quick to descend upon me, locking his arms around my waist. “I can’t imagine a better way to pass the time.”

  “That’s not what I need you for.”

  He burrows his head into my neck, my hair. “One day that’s all you’ll ever need me for, and I’ll feel rather used.” He gives a sly smile.

  “Oh, stop.” I push him away with the flat of my hands. I let him in on the crap house that is the “Celestra tunnels” and before I’m through, I spot that magic mirror of Demetri’s, haunting his residence.

  “Tad was less than impressed that you broke in and took it.” Although it doesn’t look broken at all.

  “Breaking and entering is hardly how I operate.” He leers at me suggestively. “All of the entering I’m involved in is mutually consensual,” he whispers it low and my stomach ignites with heat. “I come invited.”

  Marshall drips with lust for me and I have to look away before I buckle to his advances. This entire nightmare with Gage and the Counts has my resistance at an all-time low.

  “Back to the mirror.” I speed over to it in an effort to hide the color in my face.

  He cuts a venomous look at the contraption. “I’ve broken it twice already, and each time, it’s morphed back into shape.”

  “Get rid of it.” I pull him in tight as if it might morph into a clown, or Ezrina, or, God forbid, Demetri himself. “Bury the damn thing.”

  “I shan’t.” He lets out a breath. “Finders keepers and all those good-for-nothing euphemisms. Besides, it has properties. I merely haven’t discovered them yet. I’ve been throwing things in it all day. I’ve loosed two squirrels and a jackrabbit into the black hole, and they’ve yet to return.” He strokes the side of his face. “I’m guessing I’ll need to send in the reserves—a raven to be exact.”

  “Discover whatever the hell you need to discover then get it the F out of dodge,” I say. “Marshall…” I cup his face with my hands and pant into him. “I can’t go to that prison again.” I try to control my agitation. “As your future wife, I absolutely forbid you to let them take me again.” I have no problem pulling the wife card with Marshall. Hell, I might just need every weapon in the matrimonial arsenal to prevail against the Counts.

  “Dear girl, count your blessings they released you at all. You are aware the other Celestra prisoners are denied their weekend fun pass. You, my dear, have invoked a peculiar vein of mercy from the purveyor of your grief.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me? So what? You want me to write Demetri a thank you?” I’m shocked Marshall isn’t livid—breaking the piano in a fit of rage or setting the barn on fire, better yet, the entire freaking forest. “Do you know what’s it’s like down there? It’s a hellhole! People were screaming. They were afraid. There was a child down there for Pete’s sake, who by the way, I won’t rest until I rescue. Speaking of children, does my mother know I was down there?” And I’m not talking, Lizbeth.

/>   “The woman knows everything. Of course she knows.”

  “Oh my God.” I grip my fingers to my chest. “She’s a monster. How could she ever find that acceptable? She didn’t come. She didn’t help—she let those horrible things happen to me—to others.” I shake my head in disbelief.

  “She didn’t come to your rescue, did she?” Marshall reels me in again. “She wanted you to see it, feel it, taste all of its displeasure, and swill it in your mouth like rancid fat.”

  “She could have taken me there and given me the tour, thank you very much. I lived it,” I hiss.

  “Perhaps she wants you to do something about it.” His cheek twitches as he withholds a smile.

  “Me? What is wrong with you people? First you want me to fight a war so you can stay in power, and now she wants me to concoct some lame idea on how I’m going to open the tunnels and set my people free?”

  Shit.

  Having your mother in charge of your destiny has got to be the worst idea ever. If only she would have had more children, she could have spread the misery around.

  “Yes, I believe it’s finally sunk in.” Marshall warms my back with his hands. “We need you.”

  “I’m a useless human!” I totally don’t mean that. I just want to get the celestial superiors off my effing back.

  “A Celestra, my dear, is far from human. Nevertheless, you were chosen. The Master insists that humans have free will, free reign, free charge over just about everything. The war cannot be fought without flesh and blood. Divine officers have only so much say—it is you who holds the power.”

  “But the tunnels—my mother has the power to free those people. You probably do, too.”

  “No, Skyla. We’re not to interfere in that manner. We can assist, guide, comfort.” He squeezes my waist when he says it. “Intervening when evil prospers is not our lot. Justice comes at the end of the day and not a moment sooner.”

  “At the end of the day, we’ll all be dead.”

  “Observant of you to note.” Marshall gently lifts my chin with his finger. “You, Ms. Messenger, are not like the rest. Your mother has purposed a legacy for you. The challenge is yours should you accept it. It is a generous lot, but it’s yours for the taking. Be strong. I can help you do this.”

  “Free me from Demetri. I beg of you. Don’t let him take me again.”

  “Skyla,” he says, glancing down with a look of agony, “there are rules.”

  “And I’ve been captured.” I circle a nod in disbelief. “There must be a way. A protective hedge like Chloe has or a spirit that can guard over me.”

  “No, love. Once the capture has been engaged, it is a binding covenant. You’re at their disposal.” He bites hard on his lip until it loses all color. “The only way to break the covenant is to invoke the mercy of your captor—and already you’ve tasted a portion. I’m afraid you’ll have to tread lightly with your father’s killer.”

  “He loves my mother.” I can’t believe I’m entertaining the thought of selling my mom out to that maniac. “Marshall,” I shout, shaking him by the shoulders, “how am I going to have a life? How am I ever going to marry you, if the Counts keep draining me like some magical drinking fountain?”

  “There is one remote possibility.” Marshall casts a glance out the window. “Let me consult with others. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you!” I bounce my forehead off his chest and let his feel good vibrations hum through my body like a song. “So what happened with Gage?”

  “I’m afraid Jock Strap is hopelessly in love with my future bride.” He tilts his head. “Should I do away with him?”

  “Swiftly,” I say, only half-teasing. “What did he say?”

  Marshall leads me to the couch, and I lean my head over his shoulder as if he were about to tell me some haunted bedtime story—more like haunted love story, the kind without a happy ending.

  “He found me just after midnight and told me about the stone, how the Pretty One and you were pinned with a blade. When I informed him there wasn’t a single thing I could do to alleviate your discomfort, he dropped to his knees. The look of grief on the poor boy’s face alerted me to something.”

  “What’s that?” I stare up at Marshall’s fiery eyes. Each their own unique shade of burgundy.

  “He feels just as strongly for you as I do.” Marshall focuses his gaze straight ahead. The fireplace roars to life without provocation. It brands the room in colors pink and gold. “I thought I understood love, knew the lay of the land—all of its inroads.” He sighs hard, landing a soft kiss to my temple. “I knew nothing of it until I met you, Skyla. You’ve redefined love for me. It’s sacred—anointed with the highest regard and blessing.”

  I’ve never heard words like that from Marshall. His placating sexuality, his wry wit and humor are all gone, nothing but the naked form of a man underneath, declaring his love for me. Our eyes lock. A strong magnetic pull lures me to his lips, and everything in me longs for a kiss.

  “Yeah, well,” I say, shaking the idea away, “turns out Gage is Chloe’s pawn,” I inform.

  “Is he?” Marshall raises a brow. “Or is she his?”

  Chapter 11

  The Party

  Days bleed by. I tell Mom I’m not feeling well and miss the last two days of school, letting the rest of the week drip down to nothing without returning any calls to my newfound traitor—the boy who stole my heart then stomped all over it while I had a sword thrust in my chest. May as well have been him delivering the fatal blow.

  The Saturday morning of the big graduation party, I trot downstairs to find the house alive with an assortment of unappreciated scents. An entire bouquet of vomit-like odors assaults my senses.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, peering over Mom’s shoulder at a bubbling brew in what, honest to God, could double as a witch’s cauldron. Witchcraft, poison cuisine, her insatiable lust for Demetri the Celestra hunter—all clear evidence that my mother ditched her sanity once my father died. Her union with Tad should have tipped me off that permanent placement in a psychiatric facility is completely necessary.

  “Steel cut oats and spinach—Swiss Chard. I’m trying to make enough for the whole family.” She makes a face. “You know,” she whispers, looking past my shoulder briefly, “I have to say, I’m not appreciating the way Brielle and her mother are keeping the baby from us.”

  “They are?” I’ve been lost in the bubble of betrayal and haven’t really noticed. It seems like Drake is gone all the time, so I assume he’s next door pulling daddy duty.

  “Every time I go over, they say the baby’s napping and that I shouldn’t interrupt.” A clear look of hurt clouds her features. It seems lately her diaper dreams are being dashed from every angle.

  Maybe it’s a good thing that she doesn’t spend that much time with baby Beau. It might inspire her to kick Operation Procreate back into high gear and get her mind off demented Demetri. Although, who knows what sexual shenanigans will ensue—and with who.

  “I’m sure they’ll bring the baby tonight,” I say, trying to offer her a pick me up. Half the town is coming, including the Oliver of my discontent.

  “You’re right.” She pulls me in and inhales deeply. And so will Demetri. She squeals with a smile.

  There it is. Proof positive she’s totally ready to dive into some serious philandering with my least favorite Fem.

  Mia and Melissa bound into the kitchen and groan at the savorless offerings.

  “All you ever cook is crap,” Melissa quips.

  “Melissa!” Mom snaps.

  “The child speaks the truth, Lizbeth.” Tad appears and plucks a bright green banana from the counter and attempts to peel it, but it’s sealed itself successfully from being digested by humans and Tad alike.

  “Excuse me?” Mom’s eyes enlarge with a tempered rage. “This whole family is embracing a new healthy lifestyle, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t let our daughter speak to me in such an outright rude manner.”
r />   “I’m not embracing anything that smells like crap.” Mia is quick to join the dissension in the ranks.

  “The barf mobile called.” Melissa cackles. “It wants its puke back.”

  “You’re such a dumbass,” Mia hisses into her.

  “Shut up. You’re the dumbass,” Melissa snipes back.

  “Girls!” Tad claps his hands. “Get dressed and clean up around here. Your mother invited an infantry to suckle off her feast.”

  Tad has an annoying way of making everything sound disgustingly inappropriate. Mostly sane people are coming, so that crosses suckling off the list, and my mother is preparing the meal, so for sure there will be no feast.

  Ethan wanders in with his hair sticking up in the back and yanks open the fridge without the proper Landon morning greeting, which consists of a bodily function salute—an offense they don’t mind dispensing all day long. Chloe saunters in after him in a barely-there silk nighty that dips just below her bottom.

  Speaking of the offense.

  “Morning, everyone.” Chloe bursts with uncalled for energy as she stretches to the ceiling, leaving her bottom exposed just long enough for it to sear itself in my nightmares. She stops short at the sight of me and scuttles on over. “Are you still breathing on the planet?” she whispers. “Aren’t you the lucky little captive running around Paragon like you might live to see another day?”

  “Gage rescued me.” I hold out my ring. The sad blue stone may as well be filled with tears. Of course I’ll be yanking it off permanently once I get upstairs and then quite possibly scalding my finger as a punishment for donning the lie to begin with.

  “Must hurt like hell to have him fool you. I think he went way too far with it all.” She breathes the words out. “We should team up. Let the bastard have it.” Chloe brands the words in my ear.

  Right. Like I’d ever fall into that bear trap again. The last time we teamed up, I had a starring role in a DVD loosely entitled, Skyla Does Paragon. I hear it’s still a big hit with the track team.

  “So what are you thinking?” I follow her over to the coffee machine. I don’t mind mollifying Chloe’s need to bridge the gap in our non-existent friendship. I’m sure she’d pay to see me mutilate Gage’s reproductive organs—on second thought maybe not. I’m sure she dreams of desecrating those herself with a little help from her own reproductive organs.