She grunts as if his words were useless, and they more or less are.
“As if you couldn’t sprout another limb.” She openly glares at him. “But I see you’ve gifted me your benevolence.” A smile springs to her lips as she looks to me, and I see Skyla there hiding in her features like an unwanted fugitive. Her eyes brighten as she looks at me—her gaze magnetized as if she were in a trance. It’s as if I were all that existed, all that needed to exist. It always feels this way when Sage looks at me. “Father”—she takes up both my hands—“while you’ve been away, I’ve taken the liberty to construct a home for us in this new realm. The details are yet to be delivered, but the frame, the gesture—I want you to consider it a tangible gift from me to you. The world around it still needs to be fleshed out. I thought we could construct that together, a father-daughter project if you will.”
My heart warms, soaring with pleasure beyond anything I’ve felt before as far as my father’s heart goes. Not that this diminishes my love for the boys in any way, but there is just something heartbreakingly beautiful about your own child trying their best to please you, and that is exactly what it feels like Sage is doing.
Her brows tense a moment. “I will be the only child that pleases you once my brothers side with Celestra—and they will. They are tiny traitors in the making.” A slight dimple goes off in her cheek. “Reveal it now, Demetri. The time has come for my father to know my love for him, my adoration, my vernation, and reverence to his holy being.” The fog presses in around us, growing thicker by the moment, inspiring Sage to slit her eyes toward her wicked grandfather. “I said now!”
And just like that, the clouds around us rise like curtains, revealing a monolithic structure that would make even the most gargantuan of mansions look like an outhouse belonging to a shanty.
“Oh my God.” The words press out of me with a hint of grief. The looming gray structure looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, a structure in which an entire city of beings calls home with its sharp peaks and towers, windows made of beveled glass that are taller than most two-story homes, each with its own pointed arch. The opening, the giant maw that leads to a dark, soulless entry is large enough to drive sixteen semis through it at once. There’s a drawbridge—because what medieval-inspired structure would be complete without it—that spills out onto the verdant hillside like a beautiful dark mahogany tongue. “This is…” There are simply no words. It’s as if Demetri’s mansion, the original haunted house in the Transfer, and Wesley’s monstrosity had a baby, and then those architectural genetic mutations had a baby, and so on and so forth until the universe popped this sucker into existence out of spite. It’s too much. Too big. Too scary. Too airy. Too pompous. Too self-righteous. Too unbelievable—so much so it’s almost laughable. It’s something a child would dream up in a fantasy. A thought occurs to me. “Sage? Did you design this house on your own?”
“Yes, Father.” Her fragile hand clasps over mine as she looks up at me with watery eyes. “You’re disappointed in it. I can feel it in your spirit.” Her voice is tight, but the pain of rejection echoes across her sweet face.
“No.” I pick her up and land her on my hip as I grin at my new stupefying abode. “I love it.” No sooner do I say the words than the dull gray walls take on an iridescent hue, and a series of sparks emit from its every tip out of order as if it were suddenly adorned with twinkle lights.
Sage laughs at the sight and claps, taking on the persona of a child, if only for a moment. “You must love it then. It reflects your mood, Father. When you’re happy, it will sparkle, and when you are elated, it will shine with the light of the sun. And when you are dark, it too will be dark.” Her eyes slit to mine, and there’s suddenly a marked coldness in them. “There shall be no secrets among us. We will rule here, together. You will also rule in the earthen sphere—and while you are away, I will sit supreme and guard your castle. I will mind the Fems and instruct them to follow your bidding. There will be no place for anarchy or chaos. Your throne will be safe, shielded from danger. I’ve equipped our new home with the finest of weaponry. I’ve petitioned Your Grace Candace to gift us a replica of Uncle Wesley’s Tears Over Creation, and she aptly obliged. That way you can look to see what ominous things Mother is up to.”
Demetri clears his throat before I can inquire. “The water feature in Wesley’s living room, with the granite globe.”
“Ah, yes.” I’ve seen that work of questionable art in action a time or two. I’ve seen my brother gazing into it looking for Laken, and now she’s right there under his nose, in his arms, just where he’s wanted her all along. I cast a careful glance at the Goliath before me and wonder if Skyla will ever be comfortable in my arms behind those walls. “Well, thank you. Thank you both.” I land a sweet kiss over Sage’s cheek, and she kicks her way down once again.
“You haven’t seen anything yet, Father.” She clasps her hand to mine and hurriedly leads us over the wooden bridge and into the mouth of the creature that somehow belongs to me. “I’ve had all of the finest stones mined from the River of Life.”
“The River of Life?” I glance back to Demetri, mildly alarmed. The River of Life happens to bisect paradise and flow straight from the Master’s altar. There is not a single part of me that feels okay with harvesting enough materials to complete this architectural feat.
Demetri nods. His brows dip as if it were a given. “Mind you, each stone was created for this very purpose. The chateau was a part of your destiny all along. The Master is the great provider and has made copious provisions for you to have all you need.”
Something about that idea warms me, makes me feel a little less wicked, a little more aligned with the light.
“You are the light, Father.” Sage gives my hand a squeeze as we step into a white marble entry with gray wisps curling throughout it as if the stone itself were whispering dark secrets to us. The walls are lined with gray granite much like Wesley’s home, and I note a grand room to the right and quickly realize I somewhat recognize the layout. It looks to be a cookie cutter of Wesley’s palace, only on a far more magnificent level. There’s a roaring blaze in the fireplace, large enough to roast six deer in, and standing by the oversized well of tears—and I would not be surprised to learn that they are literal tears shed by angels themselves—stands someone who looks suspiciously just like me. My brother.
“You made it.” Wes looks up with a grin. “What a spectacular home you have here. I was just admiring the motif. Lord of Misrule?”
I can’t help but grunt at Wes for the slight.
Demetri stiffens. “You may never reference your brother as a mock king.”
“Uncle!” Sage roars with a reprimand buried in her voice. “The Lord of Misrule was someone from the sub gentry, chosen to preside over the people during the Feast of Fools revelries that usually entailed drunkenness. You are no fool king, Father.” She casts a hardened glance to Wesley. “Uncle, why don’t you teach my father how to utilize Tears Over Creation?” She looks back up at me. “The tears of countless martyrs have filled this tub for you, Father. You will gaze into the globe carved from the darkest, richest sapphire, and in the waters surrounding it you will gaze upon whatever your heart desires.”
Demetri sniffs the air. “There are limitations.”
“Demetri,” Sage snaps. “Are you, Uncle?” she asks facetiously. “Who called on you to speak limitations to my father?” Her tone is as strict as it is fierce. It’s a well-known fact that Sage has no fear of her elders. She very much has command over this and every situation—a Candace mini-me at her finest. She looks up at me with a sense of pride. “She has trained me well, hasn’t she, Father?”
“Relax, the both of you.” Wes never takes those serious eyes off mine. “My brother knows I will give him the honor and the respect due to him.” His jaw tightens as if maybe he won’t. “The Valkyrie are upstairs taking a tour of the weapons room. They’ll be down in a moment.”
“Valkyrie?” I look to Demetri. “
As in the women from Norse mythology who choose who lives and dies in battle?” I spent the better part of middle school obsessed with mythology and any fictional account that bore a resemblance to it. It’s what spurred my love of reading.
Demetri tips his head. “Not exactly.”
Wes folds his arms over his chest, his stance defiant as if he were sorry he had to explain anything to me. “Mythology got the details wrong. It’s not just women. It’s comprised of men as well. It’s a military ranking among Fems. You’ve got three upstairs, and they all happen to be dudes.”
A thousand questions burn through my mind at once as Sage gives a slight tug to my hand until I cast a glance her way.
“Why don’t you and Uncle supervise those fools while Demetri and I head to the kitchen? I’ll make sure the chef prepares an array of fine dishes. You have a body once again.” She presses her tiny hand firmly against my stomach. “There’s no reason a king should starve in his own palace.” She glowers over at Wes. “You’ll eat as well,” she barks. “A king never eats alone.” She takes Demetri by the hand. “Come,” she says, dragging him off to the left—to where I surmise the kitchen must be according to Wes and Demetri’s layout.
Demetri chortles out his signature laugh as they make their way down the hall. “You mustn’t liken the uniformed gentry to fools. Has Your Grace taught you nothing of slandering celestial beings?”
“They are fools if they believe they know better than my father. He can champion the campaign singlehandedly if he had to.”
Wes grunts as we watch the two of them from a distance. “I’m just going to come out and say it. Your kid’s a little weird.”
“You’d be a little weird, too, if you were dead.”
“I don’t think so.” He turns to look at me, his feet still locked in that defiant stance. “Demetri mentioned something about Candace influencing her?” He shakes his head, dismayed by the idea. “Dude, Candace Messenger should be the first red flag. She’s not for us. She’s against us. And if that little girl of yours is operating under her guidance, I’d say you’ve got one hell of a problem brewing.”
Crap. My thoughts swell in all sorts of suffocating directions. “She’s not a plant. That’s just Sage being Sage.” I want to believe it. “From the day we’ve met, she’s been a pistol.” I take a huge breath and can’t help but note the scent of something downright mouthwatering already streaming from the kitchen.
Wes ticks his head to the stairwell. “Let’s head up before we grub.”
I follow Wes up the stone stairwell. The ornate iron banisters are breathtaking, and I can’t wait for Skyla to see them. Just knowing that Sage designed this place with love will enable Skyla to see this entire realm differently. Realm—the idea still doesn’t sit well with me.
The walls upstairs are massive and barren. Doors are dotted throughout the enormous halls, and to our left there is a grand banquet hall large enough to fit a small island nation.
“Since we’re pointing out the obvious”—I grunt as I pause to take in the magnitude of this deserted wasteland—“this is a lot of real estate.”
Wes chuckles to himself. “You’ll have plenty of time to fill it with whomever and whatever you desire. This real estate is yours right through the millennial reign. Feel free to party like it’s the apocalypse, dude. You’re set up for quite some time—so long as the Fems reign supreme.”
“And then what?” I ask as he continues to lead us down the hall. “After our Lord finishes up His millennium reign on Earth, what happens to the realm?”
Wes stops abruptly, taking the time to examine me a moment. “I’d accuse you of being greedy, but I know better.” He takes a breath, his features perennially bored with me. “They get vacuumed up—burned up, who knows? They’re gone, done for. Just like you and me will be if we don’t get the Fems what they want.”
“A seat on the celestial pedestal. They want to rule that millennial school, don’t they?”
“They don’t want to. They have to.” His eyes sharpen over mine. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” The sound of my own panting startles me. In truth, it’s both vexing and frightening to think I’m in the dark about anything that might be deathly important.
Wes cranes his neck over my shoulder a moment at an open door that I can only surmise leads to the weapons room—to the Valkyrie that I’m about to come face-to-face with.
“It’s an end game for us all.” He gives a little shrug. “It’s the last hoorah for wickedness to prevail. If the Fems topple the Sectors, they last through eternity as principal beings—created entities that fulfilled a divine purpose in the church age.”
“And if the Sectors’ position remains?”
His features harden. “We rot in darkness, in dungeons that the Master created for fallen angels—for those who reject His son.”
“What do you mean? We rot in hell? That makes no sense. We have clearly chosen the Son. It goes against the entire principle of the cross.”
“We are created beings, according to our lineage. Gage, the Fems are a part of the Master’s vast military. He appoints the ranks to do as He pleases.” He closes his eyes a moment, and if I were to guess, Wes is filled with remorse regarding whatever comes next. “As I understand it, there will be a post in hell to keep the wicked in line, to oversee the flames.” He nods up at me as if I should know what this means. “If we lose, we rule the heated roost. At that point there isn’t an exit strategy. Once the judgments are over, so are we. And whether or not the torment was meant for us, it will feel that way—eternal torment—tossing around in everlasting flames, burning up like yesterday’s trash. Either way, it sounds like hell.” His lips crimp a smile. “Because it will be.”
Us. I’m stuck on that word. “We’re Fems.” It comes out lower than a whisper.
“That’s right.” Wes slams his hand against my chest as if he were trying to wake me. “So get it straight. If you want to spend eternity with Skyla and your kids, think twice about giving away the victory to Celestra like you initially planned on doing. You’re stuck being a Fem just like me. Having Laken in my life once again might feel like heaven, but knowing there’s an eternal chasm that could separate us for good, makes me want to fight that much harder to ensure the Fems the victory—the victory that our people rightfully deserve.”
My lungs lock up. My chest tightens, stiff as concrete. Can’t breathe. The world around me fades to gray for a moment. So this is what it has always been about. The truth in a nutshell, the knife in my gut delivered so matter-of-factly from my brother. My God, it’s as if he gifted me poison to drink. The worst part is that Skyla doesn’t know. If she knew, things might be very different for her people. Skyla has a ferocious love for me, and suddenly, I feel like crap because of it. No. Skyla can never know this toxic truth.
The horrible reality of the situation hits me at once. The thought of losing Skyla and the kids for all eternity is unbearable to fathom, even for a moment.
“What about the Sectors?” My heart pounds over my chest like a boxer hitting a speed bag at a million miles an hour. “What happens to them if they lose?” Dudley flits through my mind like a hex.
Wes sinks back on his heels as if he’s trying to remember the answer to this. “Why do you think they battle so hard? The answer is the same. The roles are simply reversed.”
“Why haven’t I heard this before?” My heart jumps in my throat as I hold back the urge to throttle him.
“Because until now, it wasn’t any of your damn business.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Why would the Sectors be subjected to hell?”
“I don’t know. Why would we? I didn’t write the rules. As far as I know, they are created beings as well. If they were created to keep humanity safe from our clutches and came up short—He can crumple them up like trash.”
“You realize you’re saying we’re the dangerous ones.”
“We’re not a danger to anyone. We get the Fem
s in position, and the Barricade takes the lead. I promise you, I will once again unite the Factions and lead them better—far more efficiently than Skyla can ever hope. And the sewage trap the planet is shaping up to be? Mark my words. I will run that planet far more effectively than any of the world leaders combined. Have you seen the state of those third-world countries? Not to mention homelessness is a damn plague in our own nation. I’ll have the vilest predators locked up and behind bars. There will be no cracks in the system I devise.”
“One world government,” I say it mostly to myself. Wesley is spouting off words straight off the pages of the book of Revelation. “I think I can see the direction this train is headed.” I’m still not sure if it’s a good one.
He gives a slight nod. “Call it destiny or fate, but you and I were born for this moment.”
The words the Son Himself spoke to me only moments after I joined him in eternity come back to me. You were born for this.
Dudley blinks through my mind. “So it’s me or Marshall Dudley.” I tip my head back and close my eyes. How in the hell did this end up as my life?
“Look, Dudley is a good guy. I can see why you’re torn. But if it makes you feel better, I’m sure Skyla can drum up a way to visit him in his new gloomy, hot as hell home. She’s got connections.”
“Connections.” I scratch at that back of my neck. “That she does.”
“But I wouldn’t count on those connections if I were you. Once that stone is sealed over the entry, you and I aren’t getting any conjugal passes. Neither of us makes Candace Messenger’s hot list. The only heat we’ll be feeling is from the flames as the overseers of our new fiery home.”
Shit. It feels as if the world just crashed through my skull. My entire body is numb with shock, my heart detonating at unsafe levels. This simply cannot be. And I for damn sure cannot risk another separation from my family.
Sorry, Dudley. You lose. Skyla and the kids need me, and I need them. I can’t help you. And if I win this war, there will be nobody to help you for all eternity. My heart sinks at the thought.
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