Roar of the Lion : Celestra Forever After 7

by Addison Moore

  “No tits. Got it.” As if I would have done that.

  Okay, so it crossed my mind, but only because Chloe just had a baby a few months back herself. I’m sure with my mother’s help we could have gotten her milk to come in again. And I would give anything to nurse Jaxson one more time.

  “And lastly”—Chloe’s entire demeanor hardens because apparently this last point of contention is a doozy—“Gage Oliver.”

  “Good Lord.” I shudder just hearing his name.

  “That’s right.” She gives a little nod. “I thought he would evoke some emotion in you. But he is neither good nor our Lord, now is he?”

  “No,” I’m quick to agree on both points.

  “But he still reigns in your heart. I’m not stupid, Skyla. I can see it in your stubborn eyes. And don’t give me any of that Logan Oliver bull. You’re somehow damaged enough to be equally smitten with both. Nonetheless, I’m positive you and Gage have moved in different directions whether or not you have come to this conclusion yourself. And seeing that he’s still driving this celestial crazy train as the leader of the Factions”—she looks to Marshall—“leaving the Sectors in the septic tank, I think we can all agree that Gage must go to Hell sooner than later.” She gives a smug smile. “And it will be my good, good pleasure to hear you say those exact same words to him—the caveat being, you must tell him exactly what I think of him, too.”

  I nod. “We’ll come at him with both barrels firing. I wouldn’t want it any other way. You think you’re pissed at him? Oh, honey, I promise I can rival any vengeance you have planned.”

  A husky laugh belts from her. “Oh, Skyla, please. What you feel for Gage is the epitome of unconditional love. He’s done everything wicked to you but toss your kids down a well, and even then you’d find a justification for it. Because that’s what you do with him. You enable his thirst for evil by dismissing his every action as misguided. Admit it. Deep down, you believe Gage Oliver has lost his once perfect mind. You could never buy into this demented version because you’re still sold on the illusion he was before Demetri took the scales from his eyes. He woke up one day and accepted his wicked lot in life. But you don’t believe it.”

  “Neither do you,” I say it with only half the conviction Chloe is able to muster.

  She jumps to her feet and takes a bold step my way. “What did you say?”

  “I said neither do you. That’s right, Chloe. You don’t buy everything he’s selling, and I’ll tell you why. Because you fell in love with the illusion, too.”

  “Tell me, Mr. Dudley”— she looks to Marshall and her chest pumps with a dull laugh—“how does it feel to roam the nether sphere with such a ball of knowledge by your side? Oh, that’s right. Skyla doesn’t actually know anything—she just pretends to.”

  “I’m right, Chloe,” I snip. “And I don’t doubt your love for him was genuine. You put up with far more crap than I ever had to with him. You made far more creative justifications for him than I did.”

  Marshall expels a slow breath. “Ms. Messenger, might I remind you of the expression—you’ll catch far more flies with honey than you will with vinegar?”

  Chloe grunts as she leans my way. “That’s right, Messenger. You’re spewing a hell of a lot of vinegar. I suppose I should thank you for that because I was almost stupid enough to let you inside my corporal frame. And to think, I couldn’t even strangle you in your sleep or I’d just end up killing myself. But then, it’s always been that way. Try as I might to hurt you, the only person I end up injuring is me.”

  “It’s true, Chloe,” I say. “You’ve hung yourself as often as you’ve tried to hang me. But that’s what I admire about you most.”

  A sharp groan emits from her as she rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “Brace yourself, Dudley. It’s about to rain honey.”

  I shrug over at her. “You are a cold-hearted, wicked, badass witch if ever there was one. What Chloe Bishop wants, Chloe Bishop goes after with a fury that will leave everyone caught up in her wake, either headless or miserable with regret for not getting out of her way fast enough. You are a narcissist. You are the exact definition of a sociopath. And yet in your heart there was room for one more, and only one more—not your own flesh and blood that you pushed from your body, but Gage Oliver, that dark-haired knight you hoped would sweep you off your cloven hooves. And he did. Then the mask came off in the most horrific way. And now there is only you. The magnificently pissed off Chloe Jessica Bishop. You’re ready for revenge. You’re ready to wipe the grime from the Factions and lead your people. I can get you there. As close as you will ever be, and you know this. Admit it, Chloe. You want Gage stomped out like a grease fire. You want Celestra to rule the celestial roost once again—not because you have some altruistic adoration for Celestra, or any of the Factions that side with them. But because in your mind you are Celestra. It’s the lens from which you see yourself. It’s your favorite, only identity. And yet you let Gage shit all over your identity the entire time you were married. It was all justifiable so long as you had him by your side, wasn’t it, Chloe?”

  She closes her eyes and swallows hard. “Fine. Touché, Skyla. So what?”

  “So what? It’s time to put Celestra back where it belongs. This is bigger than Gage Oliver. Screw the Fems. This is about who we are—and making it known that we are taking it back. We don’t go down without a fight, and we sure as hell don’t stay down. And if we die trying, we step right out of the damn grave. Put me back in the game, Chloe, so we can pull each other up. You can only get yourself so far. Look where your own might has landed you? Living at your brother’s rental house. Listening to that horrific nonstop thumping.” I point hard to the wall from which the noises never cease to emit. “You should be tearing apart this universe to get even with Gage,” I tell her. “I’m shocked you haven’t taken a blowtorch to that house he held you hostage in. Why in the hell are you letting him get away with all this shit? Take back what’s yours. Celestra has taken a back seat in your life long enough. It can’t wait any longer. Every day you sit on your ass, painting those claws growing out of your feet, it’s another win for the Fems. Another middle finger in your face from Gage. In the end, you were a pawn—much like me. We were stepping stones. Gage stood on our backs and broke them on his way to celestial success. And then he took a dump on us. He and Demetri are actively laughing at us. Gage not only tore our hearts out, he made sure to humiliate us while he did it. It is nothing short of warfare at its finest. Demetri used the sharpest weapon in his arsenal against our people, against us. His son.”

  Chloe glares at me for what feels like hours.

  “Oh God.” She hoists herself off the sofa and groans like a dying animal. “Dudley, you have to promise Skyla will not take up residence in my body forever. If this is some game of smoke and mirrors to extinguish me from existence for your own gain, Messenger, I’ll find a way to command my body to kill the both of us. You don’t win. You don’t get to knock me out of the way like some chess piece that’s been discarded.”

  My cheek flickers as she says the word. A long time ago, Demetri made it clear that Chloe was discarded from the Celestial game of chess he and my mother are locked in. Chloe wasn’t all that thrilled with the news at the time either.

  I shake my head. “You will not be discarded, Chloe. Help me. Help yourself. We are going to be victorious for our people once and for all. We are fighters. It is in our blood, in our spirits.” I lift my ghostly arms. “Whatever melee Rory thinks she’s going to cause, we are going to stomp it out. She doesn’t get to take our people down in my body using my own hands.”

  “Please.” She rolls her eyes. “Skyla, you did that on your own. Rory’s not good enough to wreck things any more than you have.”

  “Maybe you’re right. But while she’s in my body she’s not fighting for Celestra, and I would be. Hell”—my spirit rattles with an unpleasant jolt of electrocution—“heck, I’m still fighting. Death cannot stop me. Rory is simply a stone in my pa
th as I take down Gage once and for all. He might have a newly minted body, but I will have yours. You are the sharpest weapon in my arsenal.”

  She pinches her eyes shut and moans again as if she were seriously laboring over this.

  “Okay, fine,” she growls. “But you don’t get to walk around Paragon with your bra on the outside of your shirt. You can’t shave my head or tat up my arms and face. You don’t get to do little weird shit either like shave my eyebrows or pluck out my toenails. We will coexist. I refuse to be helpless or without opinion. If you want to eat, consult me first. If you want to engage in some demon-worthy aerobic activity, know that I will veto it. I much prefer to read a book in the bath. No masturbating. No detailed sexual fantasies that will rot in my mind forever. No excessive caffeine. No high heels and no hoop earrings. No ability to banish me anywhere, ever again. Got it?”

  “Got it. I’m sure if you left anything out you’ll let me know. Rest assured, I will adhere to all of your rules whether or not you think up a new one. You are the host. I will be nothing more than a guest in your body. Marshall?” I nod to him to get a move on. I have a feeling we’re dealing with a limited time window before the offer is snatched off the table. If Chloe is anything, she’s fickle when it comes to making agreements with me.

  “Ms. Bishop?” Marshall’s chest expands as he takes his very next breath. “Do I have your expressed permission to place Ms. Messenger’s soul into your body?”

  Chloe tips her head back in lieu of an answer.

  “Use your words,” Marshall chides her.

  Chloe rolls her eyes. “She may use my body for an extremely limited amount of time. When I said I wanted to grow old with someone, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.” Her upper lip twitches as she looks my way. “You’ll tell Brody the truth. I don’t keep things from my brother.”

  “We’ll tell a lot of people the truth. Logan for one. Gage for another.”

  The faint flicker of a wicked grin twitches on her lips. “Yes, him. I vote we rip his balls off first—preferably with a butter knife or dental floss. No teeth. He might actually enjoy that. Then we’ll talk to him. Of course, we won’t have that much to say. I do believe we just about said it all the last time we were in the same room.”

  “That might be true for you.” That night at Ellis’ house comes to mind as I floated right outside of my body. “But there are a few new developments we haven’t discussed yet.” I nod to the Sector among us. “Do the deed. My body is getting cold without me. I have an evil sister to evict and the Factions to run.”

  “Very well.” Marshall clasps a hand over Chloe’s forehead. “Look into her eyes, Skyla. These are your eyes for the time being. Chloe, things will feel different to you. There might be some temporary discomfort once you realize you’re unable to maneuver as you would like. I encourage communication between the two of you. Skyla, you must respect Chloe and her wishes to the extent you are able. You will be the primary. You will have complete control of her body. Let it be well with both of your souls.”

  In an instant, Marshall’s hand lights up a brilliant shade of blue and I watch as the electrifying hue pours into Chloe’s frame, lighting up her hair, her face, her limbs, all the way to her sharpened toenails.

  “Enter.” His voice echoes through the room like a steel drum struck with a heavy blow, and slowly I make my way toward Chloe, close, so close until I step right inside.

  A horrific vacuuming sound erupts as my spirit twists and turns, and soon I’m looking out at the room through Chloe Bishop’s eyes.

  The room grows black for a moment, and a vision flashes through my mind—a skeleton lying on the floor, bones so white, a dark background is behind them. The skeleton stands. Muscles and tendons and flesh quickly appear, revealing a man. He bends over and pulls on some clothes, and then just as quickly as the vision came, it’s gone and the room blinks back to life.

  “Did you do that, Chloe?” I ask. “Were you thinking it?”

  No, she says. But I saw it. That was a vision, wasn’t it?

  “It was indeed, Ms. Bishop,” Marshall says the words softly as if singing a lullaby. “And yes, I can hear your thoughts. Typically, I cannot, but Ms. Messenger is proving to be quite the conduit. I saw the vision as well.”

  Bones, Chloe muses.

  “They came to life,” I whisper. “Just like the dry bones from the Bible.” A horrific pain rips through my stomach, and I double over, clutching at Chloe’s waist—my new waist.

  I remember that chapter. God said to tell those bones to rise. It was a command, Skyla, she says. And then He breathed life into them. But we have to speak the command. I think I get it. We have power, Skyla. There’s a reason that vision was showed to the both of us. We must speak life.

  A horrible wave of nausea pulses through me, and every muscle in this new body turns to stone. My bowels constrict, my anus spasms painfully, and heaven help me, how I hate the fact I’m painfully aware of Chloe’s anus.

  “Ms. Messenger?” Marshall does his best to navigate me to the sofa, but I resist his efforts.

  Another horrific groan emits from me. “Marshall.” I take his hand and place it over my forehead until those feel-good vibratronics of his are pulsing through me. “Oh, yes, yes. That’s better.” Another hard groan rips from my throat. “Chloe, what the hell is wrong? Did you somehow manage to poison yourself just as I stepped into your body? Was it a bad burrito? This is truly awful.” My body—this body seizes, my every limb grows as heavy and hard as concrete.

  I fall to the couch and roll around in agony.

  “Please tell me this isn’t how you live, Chloe. How do you stand it? Why do you stand it?”

  Dudley, Chloe snips. You said we’d both feel the body, good or bad. I feel just fine. What the hell is Messenger moaning about?

  “Not to worry, either of you. Ms. Messenger simply needs to get used to the atmosphere. Every body has its own temperament. And right now, she is doing her best to adapt to yours.”

  “Oh, Chloe,” her name quivers from my lips. “I always said you were a miserable witch. I just never knew how stunningly accurate that was.”

  Shut up, Skyla. You’re a guest in my home. I won’t tolerate you belittling me from the get-go. Now buck up. We’re not wasting a single minute. You’ve already made me regret my choices, no thanks to your little hissy fit. Do what you need to do to get back in that stretched out vagina of yours.

  “Personally, I’m shocked you let me do it.” I struggle to sit up as Marshall comes to me with a glass of cold water. “Thank you,” I say, taking a careful sip.

  I’m no fool, Skyla. You didn’t pull one over on me. I’m well aware you need a body. I’m also well aware your mother isn’t about to let your wench of a sister marry Logan Oliver in your place. Who knew there would be someone in your family I could possibly dislike more than you? What should we do to the little bitch first? I’m thinking a knife in the gut. I’m trained to stab a person seven times without hitting a vital organ. It allows all the delight of watching them try to kick the bucket with none of the actual bucket kicking.

  “Sounds wonderful. But it’s a hard no. That would be my body you’d be stabbing.”

  That’s the point.

  “Funny.” I set the water down just as Brody and Brielle’s sister, Brookelynn, come stumbling down the hall half-dressed, their hair askew, and they both happen to have a noticeable spring in their step. They disappear into the kitchen without so much as a hello.

  Marshall dematerializes back into his ghostly state, and it’s seemingly just Chloe in the living room again.

  Tell him now, Skyla. I don’t want my brother thinking I’ve lost my mind. He’s my person.

  I shake my head. Not until he’s alone, I tell her. We need to be strategic about who we tell and when. Relax. I’m not setting up camp in your vagina, Chloe. Everything will be done strategically and God-willing quickly too.

  “Brody?” I say, standing up and trying my best to get steady on
my feet. “I’ll be stepping out for a while. Don’t wait up for me.” I’ll be back never, I want to say, but unfortunately, I might be back time and time again.

  Brody steps out of the kitchen, looking every bit like his sister in male skin. Same dark hair, same dark almond-shaped eyes, dark olive skin. Brookelynn crops up next to him with her vanilla-colored hair in a messy bun, her slightly upturned nose and pouty lips on full display as she gives me the stink eye.

  Brody frowns over at me. “What do you mean you’re going out? It’s pouring rain.”

  What else is it supposed to pour? Chloe smears it with enough sarcasm to coat the world with.

  I belt out a short-lived laugh and my stomach does a quick revolution as if the idea of bringing up Chloe’s lunch was still a very real possibility.

  “I’ll be fine,” I tell him. “Last I checked, I was waterproof.”

  “You’re not taking my car.” His brows pinch as if he were suddenly worried for me. “Did you call for a ride?”

  I don’t have a car, Skyla. Gage left me with nothing. And we’re not going anywhere in this downpour. I refuse to get pneumonia on your sloppy watch, Messenger. Think up another harebrained idea.

  “Freaking Gage,” I mutter as I look to Marshall and shrug. “Um, Marshall is picking me up. I think we’re going to dinner, then maybe to see a movie.”

  Both Brody and Brookelynn stumble deeper into the living room, their eyes agog as if I just sprouted another head.

  “Oh my God.” Brookelynn presses her hand to her chest. “Are you like dating Marshall Dudley or something?”

  “Or something.”