“Skyla, I never—”
I hold a hand up, cutting her off. “I don’t have the time or patience to discuss Demetri’s supernatural baby-making abilities. Just tell me that your uterus is fetus-free so I can catch my next breath and help Logan unload the rest of the pumpkins.” Logan generously gifted hundreds of the happy orange globes for today’s event. This was his first year selling to the public—for profit—and he made a killing. Suffice it to say, Oliver Farms is a runaway hit. People were actually taking the ferry in from Seattle just to spend the day there. The organic pick-it-yourself farmers’ market is just as big a sensation as were the hayrides and myriad of pumpkin events. I’ve taken the boys almost every day. Nathan and Barron are quite the pumpkin rollers by now.
“Oh, stop it.” She swats the air between us, her giddiness traded for a genuine irritation, most likely because I’ve figured her out. “It’s not about me, and don’t you think for a minute that if the good Lord saw fit to bless me with another wee one that I would let you rain on my maternity parade. Hosting life inside of your body is one of the most beautiful contributions a woman can make to this planet.”
“Oh God.” I glance briefly past her. “Don’t let Em hear you say that. Drake doesn’t call her a Femi-Nazi for nothing.”
“Emily would agree with me. She’s four months along in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Four months along with Drake’s baby. Doesn’t that worry you one bit?” I shake my head, still unable to fathom it.
“If it doesn’t bother Brielle or Ethan, it certainly doesn’t bother me. The more the merrier I say, which brings me to my good news.” She takes up both my hands and naturally I frown. Traditionally, whatever brings my mother this much unsustainable excitement inevitably brings me an equal amount of distress. “Mia and Gabe are getting married right here this evening!”
“Holy shit.” I pull my hands back as if she just tied a live toaster around my neck and threatened to dunk my head in the bathtub. “Please say it isn’t so.”
“It’s so!” Her feet do an odd little tap dance. “I’m just thrilled she’s not eloping. That’s like a contagion, you know. You and Gage, Bree and Drake—I couldn’t handle another snub like that. I took it very personally, Skyla.”
“And that’s why when Demetri renewed our vows in that armpit he runs, you were not only invited, but you threw one hell of an after party,” I’m quick to remind her.
She waves me off and smirks. “Skyla, this is taking place right here on Earth where it really counts. All of my society friends will be here tonight.”
“What society friends?” I’m completely entertained by the idea.
“The who’s who of Paragon elite. All of Demetri’s snobby social circle will be on hand tonight. They’re coming in for Tobie’s party, and they’ll be staying on for the rest of the festivities as well.”
“Are you talking about the Fems? Mother, they’re nothing but balls of evil air. They’re wicked spirits. Don’t waste your time trying to upsell yourself to a bunch of twisted beings that don’t have a single good intention in those soulless bodies. Trust me, you’re too good for them.”
She makes a face. “Dominique Winters will be here. Have you seen the way she looks at him? I ran into her at the apothecary while picking up Melissa, and she let me know that she was Demetri’s official date tonight. And when I called Demetri—to discuss the catering, I may have mentioned it casually.”
A breath of excitement hitches in my throat. “What did he say?” First, I cannot believe I’m letting Demetri’s warped love life usurp the conversation regarding my teenaged sister’s impromptu Halloween wedding. And secondly, I’m extremely disappointed this is on my mother’s radar, yet not shocked at all.
Her gaze shifts toward the petting zoo, and she glowers at a bleating lamb for a moment. “He said it’s true. They’re non-officially official.”
“Wow, that’s about as noncommittal as you can get.” I shrug in lieu of comforting her. “Demetri with Dominique Winters is probably not a bad thing. Look on the bright side—now you and Tad will finally have someone to double date with. You really should focus more on your husband. Who the hell cares who Demetri is dipping his stubby little wick into?”
Her lids spring open like haunted shades. “Skyla! Demetri Edinger is the oldest friend I have. We go way back. He was a good friend of your father’s, you know.”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it.”
She grimaces. “Fine. But he has always been my good friend.”
“That’s because he has always wanted to get in your pants. And he did get into Emma’s. That must really stick in your craw.”
Her jowls reconfigure themselves as she shudders with a silent rage. “Regardless, your sister’s wedding will be beautiful.” She shakes all thoughts of her favorite demon and his undead newly minted girlfriend out of her head. “Gabriel’s entire family will be here, and Marshall has graciously agreed to do the honors. Tad and I were going to dress as a couple of hillbillies, but since the night has taken a turn for the formal, I’m thinking of having him bring over my red polka-dotted dress with a wicker sunhat.”
“Isn’t that the same outfit you were going to wear for the hillbilly costume?”
She blinks to the pencil gray sky. “My God, it is! I suppose I’m all set then.” Her attention is snagged by Beau who currently has an alpaca in a headlock. “Beau! You stop that right this minute!” The creature lets out something between a shriek and a howl as my mother stalks her way over.
“Skyla!” a deep voice calls from somewhere near the house, and I look up to see Logan waving while pushing another wheelbarrow full of pumpkins this way so I head over to meet him. “Hey, beautiful.” He parks the wheelbarrow next to the picnic tables we’ve set out by the corral for the kids to use as a carving station. Logan pulls me into a partial embrace and lands a light kiss to my lips. It’s become a standing tradition between the two of us for the better part of a year, and oddly the kiss always feels somewhat platonic, like a means to an end.
That whole you’re cheating on me when you sleep with Gage accusation crops up in my mind. We’ve never spoken about it since that terrible night, but something in me is compelled to bring it up.
“Logan,” I whisper, taking up his hand because I don’t think I can push the rest of the words out.
I know exactly what you’re thinking. He presses out a sad smile. I can’t apologize. I won’t. You were meant for me. You’re beautiful. You’re my wife. My life. We’ll be together one day. I don’t want you to dread this. And when we do make love again, and we will, I’m not going to take my eyes off you.
I glance up at the sky in exasperation. “Well, for one, that will never happen. But, if it did, that whole keeping an eye on me thing might be a bit weird.”
“Would it inhibit you? I’ll wear a blindfold.”
My gaze drips down his chest a moment. “I doubt I’d be inhibited.”
“Good. Then you’ll wear the blindfold. That sounds like a lot more fun for the both of us.”
“Logan.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight once again. “What we had was special. You were my first.”
“And I’m determined to be your last.”
“Gage is—”
“Gage is smoke and mirrors. I’m real. We’re real.”
Just as I’m about to let him have it, let all of my affection for Gage be known once again, Marshall pops up. It’s probably a good thing. I was about to inform Logan in great detail how right Gage and I are—especially behind locked doors. Not that I feel the need to defend the fact I enjoy making love to my husband. I can’t help it. Gage and I are good at what we do, and therefore, we do it often. It’s a great stress reliever at the end of a long day, and a wonderful way to start the morning off. It’s not my fault it’s the only way I can nap along with the boys in the afternoon, and who’s to say a little quickie in a quasi-public establishment isn’t good to keep the spice alive? Sex has become downright medic
inal at this point.
“Come, Ms. Messenger.” Marshall taps his cheek, and just as if he had given a command, that spot between my thighs starts in on an uncontrollable quiver.
“Darn you.” I glower at him as he lands a seemingly simple kiss to my lips. “What was that for?”
“Heavens, you were doling them out. I wasn’t about to miss an opportunity.” His lids grow heavy as he glances down to my erogenous zone. “And you’re welcome.”
I take a moment to frown at the sexy Sector. “In my defense, I wasn’t doling anything out. Logan and I were just—”
Logan cuts me off with a grin. “Doing what married people do.”
Marshall hikes a brow in amusement. “Arguing or ignoring one another?”
I roll my eyes at the insufferable Sector.
Marshall chuckles at the thought. “My dear, you do have quite the list of suitors and not one of them is legally binding.” He looks to me as he scoops out a pumpkin from the wheelbarrow. “And knowing your mother has pulled up a seat and is in keen observance of your alone time with Jock Strap doesn’t make you the least bit squeamish?” He winks over at Logan. “She does have quite the sense of humor.”
“You mean the fact that it’s wearing on my powers?” I ask, trying to make sense of his obnoxious comment. “Not in the least.” Okay, so I’m lying. It takes twice as long to get me going, but only because I have to don some sort of a mind shield I’ve convinced myself that barricades my mother from seeing the dirty details. I have no clue if it works, but I’m not exactly up for comparing notes with her either. “And I beg to differ with you. My mother has no such sense of humor. Speaking of my intrusive relatives”—I steal a moment to glare at the sky because I’m hoping my celestial mother heard the dig—“my other mother—Lizbeth, says she never heard anyone talk about a baby before me. Either my father didn’t know about Aurora or she’s a lying spirit. Any luck on your front?” I begged Marshall to see what he could glean.
“No luck. I’m afraid my earthly duty has demanded a great deal of sacrifice on my part.” He hoists a pumpkin over by the pen and nearly squashes a chicken running wild. “Physical labor is the most tedious punishment.” He brushes his hands together as if announcing the end of his workday.
“Yes, well, now that the Factions will be at peace, there will be nothing left for you to do in the spiritual realm. You’ll need all the physical labor you can get to keep you busy.” I pick up a pumpkin the size of a basketball and toss it at him.
“Peace you say,” he growls as he lands the orange globe back into the wheelbarrow. “We shall see about that. Demetri has the royal gentry scheduled to arrive.” He arches a brow as if this might mean something.
“Great. I’ll get to know them before my wedding in Shaddai. I think this will be good practice for us all to learn to coincide.” Gage and I have agreed that his dominion would be a wonderfully symbolic place to begin our lives as newlyweds the second time around.
Logan averts his eyes as if he’s heard that one before, and I’m not interested in digging up his heart again and stomping on it for fun so I drop the subject.
“We’d better get our costumes on,” I say, wiping my hands down my jeans.
“I’m wearing mine,” Logan grunts.
Marshall winks my way. “I’ll be the handsome Sector in a suit that makes all the women swoon. Just another day in this sub-paradise for me. What, pray tell, shall you disguise yourself as this fine evening?”
“I think I’ll don my outfit and see if the two of you can spot me in the wild.”
I head on up to the master bedroom, Marshall’s coital chamber, and gag as I find the wicked witch of West Paragon High lounging naked over his satin emerald comforter. Pity. It’ll have to be burned. We should probably burn the witch on it too just to stop the plague of her existence.
“Chloe,” I hiss at her. “Get out. I need to get dressed.”
“I need to get dressed if you hadn’t noticed.” She spreads ’em wide for my viewing pleasure, and I’m quick to turn my head as I run for the closet. “Dudley asked me to wait for him here. Is he coming? Because I’m almost there myself.”
“You are truly disgusting,” I say, dancing in the mouth of the walk-in while I strip off my flannel and jeans. It occurs to me my bra isn’t a part of the look I’m sporting tonight so I fling it across the room at her.
“Wow, your tits are looking great, Messenger.” She catches my bra with her big toe and pitches it back my way.
“Don’t I know it.” I give a little hop to make them jump. “Gage just eats them up like candy. On purpose, Chloe—not some decomposing version of him that I have to move around like a bloody rag doll. Only a despicable whore like you would force my dead husband’s corpse to go where no man dares to venture.”
“Please. Logan not only ventured there, he lingered.”
I don’t even offer a comeback. We both know he thought it was me. I pull on my costume, the accessories that came with it, a giant gold belt you might see at a wrestling match, a cheap plastic sword stabbed in its sheath, and stand in front of the mirror, crossing my wrists together with a juvenile satisfaction just to watch the gold cuffs catch the light.
Chloe pops up next to me, unabashed by her clothing deprived state. “Well, well, if it isn’t Wonder Idiot.”
I don’t even flinch with the insult. I’m impervious to her silly taunts. Chloe is less relevant than a gnat. My body, mind, and soul have finally accepted this as fact. She can’t hurt me anymore. I’ve taken back my power.
“I’m technically Marveling Woman, or was it Curiosity Kid?”
“Try Gullible Girl.”
I wave her off. “Anyway, the official Wonder Woman costume cost more than a month at Emma’s pricey daycare center.” I should know, I looked into it online and had to restart my heart when I saw the blatant robbery taking place. Leave it to Emma to fleece vulnerable new parents of their hard-earned cash. Not that she’ll charge for the boys. Her pre-school program is one of the most sought-after in the state, with people moving to the island just to dip a toe into that gold infested sandbox. “I was looking into it for Tobie.” I admire my red, gold, and Gage Oliver blue bustier one last time before turning to Chloe. “I’m going to talk to Wes about moving above ground. It’s only fair to the kids. You’re the only one who should be experiencing a subterranean lifestyle.” I lean in, and that rise of giddiness inside of me hits its zenith. “And I am about to gift you exactly that. You are a complete waste of skin. A piece of garbage my mother refuses to destroy. Heaven may not want you, but I found a pit of never-ending fire that will be glad to greet you with open flames.” I step into her, and she takes a step back. “Your days of fucking with me are over, Chloe. I am not your victim. You are not my superior. You are not my sister. You defied our covenant when you thought it best to bless your body with my husband’s primal apex. I am done with you. Enjoy your daughter’s second birthday. It is the only one I will allow you to ever see. From here on out, you can only harm her with your callous indifference. Laken and I will gladly pick up the slack. Tobie is mine.” I nod. “You are no longer needed in any capacity. If I can’t kill you, I’ll exercise my right to banish you.”
Her dark hair gleams, those demon pits she calls eyes glow as if my words had the power to illuminate her from the inside, and then just like that, as if on cue, they congeal with moisture.
I inch back a notch at the sight. “Cry all you want, Chloe. We both know the tears are for you.”
She shakes her head. Her full lips blow up twice their size, ruby red, the curve of a serpentine smile twitching at the edges.
“Skyla”—my name comes out threadbare—“I asked Dudley what was to become of me. I asked him why I was still here. What was my purpose? You are indestructible. And for so long I lived to destroy you.” A lone tear rolls over her cheek, rising over her high-cut bone structure before free-falling to her bare thigh. “I have a higher purpose, Skyla. And it might yet surprise the both of
us.” Chloe takes my hand and leads us deep into the closet, past his thousands of matching suits, past the granite island large enough to double as a dining room table, to the far wall where a crest hangs, large and obtrusive, aggressively out of place. The crest itself is emblazed in shining gold, and embossed over it is the image of feathered wings that fold neatly together in the shape of a heart. Letters that I don’t recognize, nor understand their meaning, lie etched over them. I had never noticed it before, but then Marshall’s closet is the size of the entire Landon house and I’ve never explored his underwear drawer the way Chloe obviously has.
She throws a violent fist at the coat of arms, and the wall illuminates a vibrant shade of blue. Chloe takes my hand and leads me through the quivering wall and into a dark room with no beginning and no end, a vastness indescribable to man entirely. Rows and rows of glass boxes sit at desk height, each glowing with an amber illumination of their own, casting a careful light upon its contents. Each case is lined in the deepest black, and suspended over the darkness lie a myriad of weapons and trinkets.
“Oh my God.” It comes from me breathless as she leads me deeper into this mysterious realm. Marshall’s weaponry is a sight to behold, a marvel beyond comprehension.
“This is the one.” Chloe reaches for a glass chest set on a pedestal that contains simply one svelte sword about the length of my forearm—gold, gleaming with pride even in this subdued light. She extracts it from its casing without hesitation and holds it between us. “Take this, Skyla. It completes your look.” She plucks the plastic sword from its home at my hip and carefully lands Marshall’s spiritual slayer into the gold lamé sheath. “It completes who you are.”
My hand cradles the handle, and a warm hum filters through my bones as if I were touching Marshall himself.
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