Throne of Fire (Celestra Forever After Book 5)

by Addison Moore

  “I always have thoughts.” I slip my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. I’ve donned my tightest skinny jeans and put on a cute red sweater that Bree lent me. Bree, whom I’m hardly speaking with over a singular act of treason. I can’t blame her, though. She wants what’s best for her and her family, and right now it’s not siding with Celestra. She’s in the majority. Chloe still supports me, though. You really have to reevaluate your standing when one of the few people who reinforce your cause is Chloe Bishop. She’s here, in the back with the rest of our friends—her friends. I’m pretty sure I don’t have any friends left. Emily gave me the finger after the incident. Essentially they all did. I am lower than a snake. I’m less than a slug, far more repulsive than a worm that lives under a rock. They all wish I’d go away. And believe me, I’ve thought about it.

  I’ve pointed the finger, too—at my father who could have briefed me on a lot of crap before he abruptly left the planet—on my birth mother who could have injected herself in my life a hell of a lot sooner than she ever did. On Gage. On Logan. God knows I’d never let Logan Oliver get away with anything. Mostly, I blame myself. It would have been different with anyone else as the leader. It was my heart that swooned toward the enemy’s son. Sure it was a setup, but eventually I knew it and let it ride. Emotions over matter. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. If I could do it all differently, I would. But I cannot. And that is how I find myself up shit’s creek without a paddle, without a boat, with a fraction of the Factions, without my standing as a leader, without a husband, without a beating heart. A cruel ending to a cruel story that I never asked to be a part of.

  “I’ve news for you.” Marshall pulls me from my temporary trance. “The Sectors have pledged their full support. Once your powers are restored, we’ve permission to assist in the natural as well as the spiritual realm. An unprecedented action that I myself championed with the Justice Alliance. Your mother signed off on the matter herself. Do you realize what this means?” He tips his head. His demeanor sharpens with sexual intent.

  “When you look at me that way, I feel like I’m back at West, under your demented charge.” I can’t help but bite down a smile that’s slow to initiate. “Yes, I think I do know what it means. Do you know what it means?”

  “That I am essentially your charge.” He rubs his arm to mine, giving a quick glance to the vicinity. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a woman call the shots.”

  “Hasn’t my mother been calling the shots for several millennia now?”

  “Not with me.”

  “So I’ll be your first.” My brows peak, amused. Marshall has my adrenaline pumping for the first time in a month. “Hang on, honey. It’s going to be a wild ride.” A dark laugh brews in my chest. “I guess I have people to lead.”

  “I’ve no doubt you’ll do it well. There is no margin for error, and as swiftly as they dethroned you, my love, I expect you to leap back to the top. Do not disappoint me.” His features harden to stone with that last sentiment.

  “No pressure.”

  Ezrina and Nev stride in with baby Alice dressed like a princess clad in a pink tutu, safe in her father’s arm.

  They both wish me a happy birthday and the two of us a happy Thanksgiving before Nev takes the precious fairy out to the back to visit the boys. Ezrina stands between Marshall and me with her crimson hair unruly and wild, her skin just this side of alabaster, those blood red lips twisted in a knot. The cardinal lipstick pops with her paper-white skin and glorious poppy-drenched hair. I can’t help but note that Ezrina really is after her old sense of erratic style. As much as she claims she purposefully sported the disheveled look for centuries while working with the Counts, in order to keep the bad boys away, I think she rather prefers that whole nutty professor persona. It does add to her appeal. Ezrina will always be the slightly scary ax-wielding badass who isn’t afraid of anything. For all practical purposes, it’s best to stay on her good side.

  Ezrina gives my left foot a swift kick. “How is your hip?”

  That Spectator from that hellish night and his knife-sharp teeth come to mind. “Better, thank you for asking. The antibiotics helped a ton.” Antibiotics which wouldn’t have been needed had my mother not seen fit to strip me of my powers. “Why didn’t I turn into a Spectator? After all, it bit me.”

  “Wesley’s bastards lack the strength of the Spectators of yore.” She gives a little wink, and it becomes clear that Ezrina manipulated that macabre curse when the transformation occurred for the Viden youth. Good thing. Ezrina is always secretly ten paces ahead of Wesley and his wicked ways.

  “Rina,” Marshall says her name like a reprimand, and my curiosity is piqued.

  Ezrina glares at the seductive Sector. “Skyla,” she bleats my name while continuing to skewer Marshall with her gaze. “Those mushrooms.” She nods as if I should know where this is going. Why does speaking with Ezrina always feel like a game of verbal charades?

  “Mushrooms? Like, as in a side dish?” I glance to the kitchen. “Oh, who the hell knows what’s brewing in there. Em is always whipping up a feast that you think is one thing and is clearly the other. Last week she made mac and cheese, and it turned out there wasn’t an ounce of dairy in it. She makes cheese from cashews now. She’s quite the sorceress in the kitchen.” I leave out the part where she told me my dish was poisoned. Emily hates me now, just like everyone else.

  “Skyla.” Ezrina gives an exasperated blink. “Your vomit. I’ve harvested the mushrooms that bloomed in the Transfer soil while you were ill with the boys.”

  “Oh, the morning sickness that lasted from sun up till sun down. I’m familiar. Go on.”

  “I’ve completed the genetic codes that link hyper regeneration with a key molecule in Nephilim DNA.” Ezrina punctuates her word wizardry with a mock bow.

  And then it hits me. “Ezrina! Are you telling me that there’s a chance we can reverse the Spectators? The Viden youth—are you saying they have a fighting chance?”

  “They do.” Her coffee-colored eyes bear hard into mine. “They will live. They will be ever so grateful to you, my queen.”

  My cheeks heat to hear Ezrina say it and without an ounce of sarcasm—but I feel it. I feel the mockery of it all right down to my humiliated bones.

  “That’s fantastic,” I say without the proper enthusiasm. My mind can’t help but wonder. If Gage had known. If only we had this solution sooner. I’ll never understand what made him so desperate, so very wicked. I can’t fathom it. Demetri Edinger is in his blood, his DNA. Gage never stood a chance. Neither did we.

  “Ezrina”—Marshall takes up her hand, his eyes piercing hers as if ready to admonish her yet again—“you must.” He gives a subtle nod, and it becomes clear he’s speaking to her telepathically.

  “Nice. I’ve gone from queen to persona non grata. Shocking.”

  Marshall chuckles. “It seems Ezrina here is fallible yet.” His features harden again. “Ezrina is petrified to admit whether or not she has the formula to hide the markers.”

  “If only.” My entire being pleads with Ezrina. The Noster elders had the formula, and Ezrina was slow to take it from them. And now they’re all dead, no thanks to Gage and his eradication efforts. And they’ve taken the formula we needed to the grave with them. That was most likely the enemy’s intent to begin with. Gage is the enemy. For the life of me I can’t fathom it. “If you have it, you must assist me in securing it for our people. It’s the only way they’ll come back to us. Ezrina—the Sectors need this as much as we do. With Celestra on top, their position in the heavenlies will be secured once again. Wesley will sell those who flocked to him for a pittance. No one is safe with Wes.”

  “I don’t have it, Skyla.” She gives a careful glance over her shoulder in the event the demon himself decides to crop up. “Wesley has what he wants. We are secure for now.” Ezrina inches her diaper bag over her shoulder. “If you’ll pardon me.” She rushes for the back door as if the house were on fire.

 
; “You think she knows?” I look to Marshall, studying him to see what he too might be hiding from me. God knows I cannot fully trust another soul again. Hell, I’m not sure I can trust myself.

  “If she doesn’t, we are effectively starting from scratch.”

  “Why in the hell is she so afraid of Wesley?”

  A commotion ensues at the mouth of the family room as Laken strides in with baby Charlie, dimpled and precious, as blonde as Cooper Flanders—okay, as blonde as Laken, too, but I’d bet money baby Charlie’s DNA falls on the Flanders’ side of the fence. Wes and Coop stride in after her, with Tobie screaming and laughing her way to the backyard, already excited about the bounce house. Wes has baby Eli tucked in his arm, but my eyes shoot straight to Wes. He’s so strikingly identical to Gage, my heart stops beating. Just the sight of him jars me, and my body begs to drop through the floor. I don’t know how I’ll handle it once Gage himself finally walks through that door. Maybe he’ll do both of us a favor and not show at all. The boys won’t notice a thing. Sadly.

  “Skyla, happy birthday.” Laken looks shaken for me as she comes in for a quick embrace. “You’ll survive this. I promise you will.” Laken has been just as good a friend as she’s always been. Cooper has brought her over a handful of times since my world went dark and she’s tried to help me dissect this nightmare fifty different ways. Surprisingly, she doesn’t seem that shocked that Wes murdered people in cold blood that night. War is ugly was her favorite catchphrase, but that faraway look in her eyes lets me know she wasn’t buying it. She promised me she’d reevaluate everything once we crested Charlie’s first holidays. Come the new year we’re going to have a girl-to-girl sit-down, and I’m going to help knock some sense into her. Hey? Maybe Lexy should date Coop. Nothing like a little jealousy to send a girl’s hormones in a rage. Lexy is an expert at setting other women off. I’ll have to make a note of this for later.

  “I’m hoping he won’t come,” I whisper. My dirty, dirty mind goes straight to the gutter with that one.

  “He’ll be here.” Wes winces as if it pained him, too. “You look great.”

  For a loser, I want to say but don’t. I’m still fuming at both him and his brother—his father, too, but that’s the status quo with that devil.

  “Logan wanted me to tell you he’s on his way.” Coop offers me a quick kiss to the cheek. “You’ll get through this, Skyla. If you need anything at all, just look my way and I’m there. I’m not leaving the Retribution League.” He glances to Wes. “I can’t side with the enemy.”

  Laken clears her throat as Charlie begins to squirm.

  “I’ll take her.” Cooper scoops the tiny pink princess into his arms, and her entire face lights up. Her lips curl toward the ceiling as she gurgles with glee.

  “Oh my goodness, do you see that smile?” My entire heart warms at the sight of it. Charlie is so dainty and feminine, her mannerisms oh so elegant, and when she looks at Cooper, her skin glows pink as a precious carnation. “She’s practically luminescent.”

  Laken coos over her baby girl as we head out to the backyard, draining the house of its occupants. Marshall spots Demetri and heads over. That’s one conversation I want no part in.

  Laken and Coop head over to where Emily, Bree, Drake, and Ethan sit by the fire pit. Emily is so huge it looks as if she has an entire litter tucked in her belly. God only knows what Drake’s super sperm is capable of. I’ll admit that I haven’t really spoken to any of them since that night. Ethan told me to cheer up one morning at breakfast, that I was still a bitch where it really counted. Bree tried to pretend it never happened and said it wasn’t a big deal that Gage was their leader. She cited the fact Gage and I were practically the same person since we were husband and wife, but Bree had it wrong on every count. Sometimes I don’t think she cares at all about the Factions, what they stand for, and what it means for us, for the next generation. All she cares about these days is running her bankrupt empire—burning through the never-ending supply of cash Demetri has gifted her. Bree just went to Seattle and bought a brand new blood red Range Rover in cash.

  The Paragon fog has settled in our midst, inviting itself to the festivities as it often does. The sun never stood a chance, much like my heart. And darkness is already starting to dim the light in the heavens.

  Wes holds Eli between us, and I run my finger over his tiny face. “He’s so perfect.” My voice breaks. “He’s an exact replica of my boys at this age. Kresley must be in heaven.”

  “She’s in hell.”

  “What?” I meet up with his eyes, and really that’s the only relief. Wesley’s eyes are verdant green, a color entirely apart to those of Gage’s, and I thank God for that right about now. It’s hard enough to be near him. So badly I want to push Wes in a corner and make him hold me. I crave the old Gage. I’ve thought of light driving and making all of my old Gage Oliver dreams come true—but it’s too painful, the wound too fresh.

  “Kres can’t stand that I’ve chosen Laken—that I’m rubbing it in her face.”

  “You are.” I grimace. “Speaking of faces. Did her infection ever subside? Kres underwent surgery to get her old face back or at least as close as Ezrina could get, but she got a nasty staph infection and her cheeks bloated to the size of golf balls.

  “She’s completely back to normal.” He shakes his head as if she isn’t. “She’s not quite the Kres we remember but a close second nonetheless. Apparently, she asked Ezrina to make her look like some supermodel, and Ezrina obliged her. She felt bad for the girl.” He shrugs it off.

  “Wow, Laken really is a supermodel, so now you’re essentially living with two. It’s a tough time to be Wesley Edinger.” I’m not sure why I’m even having a conversation with this monster. He’s just as culpable as Gage, if not more so for the curse that’s taken over my life—my people and the Sectors. But I can’t help it. I need to be near him. Heaven help me if I’m not doing obscene things to him in the closet in less than an hour. But Wesley could never be Gage. Not any version of him past or present.

  “I’ve asked Kres to leave the Transfer. She’s moving in with Emma and Barron in a few weeks.”

  “Oh, wow. Emma will be thrilled to dote on this handsome little angel.” He will most likely grow into a devil, but I’d like to think positive about the cutie sporting my children’s face. “Won’t you miss him?”

  “Not quite. There’s a house that just came on the market next to the Harrison estate, and Laken and I are thinking of putting in an offer.”

  “Wesley! We’ll be neighbors. Sort of.” Not really. Gage is living there now, the old Walsh house that I was convinced was cursed. Apparently, I was right. “You’ll be neighbors with your brother. And your dad is just down the street. It’s a perfect trifecta of wickedness.” I give a little shrug. “Sorry. You walked into that one.”

  Grunting and shouting ensue down by the bounce house. It’s Gabriel and Rev, Mia’s dueling duo. “Excuse me, Wes. I see trouble brewing, and the last thing I want is for this day to end with a triage unit set up next to the cake.”

  I take off and meet up with Mia at the base of the bounce house.

  “You don’t fucking touch me, dude.” Rev gives Gabe a healthy push back and groans as soon as he makes contact with him. Suffice it to say, he still hasn’t healed. The entire left side of his ribcage was crushed by a teen hungry Spectator, and Mia has been doting over him ever since.

  Gabriel, who has amassed his fair share of muscles over the last year himself, steps in and throws a punch, missing Rev by inches. “I’ll fuck with whoever the hell I want to fuck with, starting with this girl right here.” He pulls Mia in like a human shield. It’s only then I note she’s donned her West Paragon cheer uniform, and my insides yearn for sweeter days gone by.

  “Hey!” I swat him. “Don’t you dare manhandle my sister—and watch your language. There are young ears in the vicinity!”

  Gabe’s jaw clenches. His hair flops over his forehead like a mop. Gabe is a pretty boy with enou
gh bully in him to make sure he looks unattractive. “She’s my wife, and I’ll manhandle her if I want to.”

  Mia giggles as if it were the most romantic gesture in the world, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

  “Rev”—I say, trying to use my body as a buffer between them—“there are other fish in the sea that are a heck of a lot less complicated.”

  Rev grunts over at me. His stubble has grown in, his hair a smidge longer. He’s traded his faux suit for a flannel and jeans and looks far more comelier than Gabe the Neanderthal if you ask me. Mia has made one colossal mistake.

  “Mia.” Rev nods over to her. “Enjoy the evening with your husband. I’m actually seeing someone else.”

  “Who?” both Mia and I ring out in a chorus.

  Rev shoots a cool look over where Carly Foster cackles into the night sky. She’s standing with the Bitch Squad, Nat, Em, Lex, Chloe, and yes, I’m counting Bree in the bitchy combination as well. But there’s yet another girl in their midst.

  “Carson?” Mia and I chime in unison once again. “No way!”

  Mia’s entire face flushes red as a beet. “That’s my sister-in-law. Not cool, Rev.”

  “So? If everything works out, we’ll be related.” He sheds a shit-eating grin. Wow. Coop should take notes. Mia looks as if she’s ready to both kick his balls in and beg him to come back to her. Jealousy is a powerful aphrodisiac. I suspect this will end spectacularly.

  Rev takes off, and Mia ditches Gabriel and his caveman ways to incite a riot with her feral hormones. Gabe scoffs before heading in their direction.

  “Oh, to be young again.” Chloe pops up and slings an arm over my shoulder. “Remember when we used to waste our time warring over boys? And now look at us?”

  “Alone and on the losing end of a whole new Faction war? We’ve come a long way, baby.”