Roar of the Lion : Celestra Forever After 7

by Addison Moore

  “Come on, Coop.” I don’t let up on him this time. “I’m going to hear a satisfying snap in about ten seconds. Either way, I win. Don’t make me put you in a double cast. Think of the kids. Think of your kid, Charlie. Not holding your princess for six weeks is really going to suck.”

  Fine. “Geez,” he grunts. But I’m not breathing a word of it out loud. Coop lets out a cry for mercy, but I’m not interested in giving it until he delivers the goods. I pry into his mind as Cooper begins to weave an unbelievable tale. And then he hits me with the whopper, and my hold on him goes slack.

  “No.” I shake my head as I take a stumbling step back. “That can’t be right.”

  A wash of red flashes before my eyes. Anger, confusion, and outright rage begin to percolate in me.

  Coop turns around to get a better look at me.

  “It’s right, Wes.”

  I shake my head at what this might mean. If it’s true. If everyone knows. If they know…

  Instant rage grips me.

  “You tell nobody,” I bark over at him as I pull him in by the shirt. “Not until I’m good and ready to tell them myself.”

  He nods. “I’m thinking after Skyla gets back to where she needs to be. She thinks her wedding is her best shot for that to happen. I agree. I wasn’t going to say anything until after the dust settled from the wedding.”

  I swallow hard as I give a quick nod.

  “I’ll make the final call on this one,” I say as I bend over a moment as if I might get sick. “Oh God.” The words rip from me as if my very soul were being torn from my being. I lean back and stare up at the sky, dizzy from the effort.

  A primal cry evicts itself from my throat, and I unleash all of my fury into this world.

  I hope the universe takes it as the warning it is.

  I cry out for myself—hell, for Gage, for this stupid shit show we’ve been a part of for so damn long. And lastly, I thunder out my rage for Laken, for my children, for everything I thought I knew and wanted.

  It’s all up in smoke.

  And I am fit to kill.

  11

  Wedding Spells Are Ringing

  Candace

  “The seventeenth century will do nicely,” I say as Sector Marshall and I walk among the revelry at a boisterous cantina located in the heart of Dover. We’ve skirted through time, forward and backward, seeking the perfect morsel of existence to carry out our plans.

  Smoke swirls, thick as fog, as the laughter rises above the riotously loud music and it’s nearly impossible to make our way through the crowd without being jostled.

  “Yes.” Sector Marshall links his arm through mine, his lips curling as he observes the wild women in their corseted gowns, their lips painted red as a rose, their eyes dark as night with thick lines of kohl. “I will find one suited to me best.”

  “And I will find one suited to me best—although in another time, another place.”

  “The decoy’s lineage is among us, I take it?”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps she is the one I’ve intended to take the reins all along. Not even you shall be privy to the answer to that riddle.”

  He lifts his chin. “I see trust is an issue.”

  “There’s no need to worry that someone will give your secrets away if you never tell them. This is how my heart holds peace. I mean no offense by it.”

  “None taken. Now remind me once again why I am to bring forth a child into this world? You do realize this is not of my own volition. It is as a courtesy to you alone that I do this.”

  A sharp laugh expels from me. “Please, Sector. I’ve seen the longing you have in you to make a human woman your own, if only for a night. Have you already mowed your way through the heavenlies that you must lust after Earth’s daughters, too?”

  Now the laughter belongs to him.

  “Nonsense. Heavenly beings will always be my weakness. But drawing a child from my loins is worthy of a mention from me—and perhaps an answer from you.”

  “If I must reiterate, very well,” I say as we come upon the bar and Sector orders a couple of lagers for us. “I need you, Sector.” The barhop slides the thick brown sludge our way, and I lift the weighted glass to the Sector by my side. “And I want you to enjoy this privilege I’m affording you, as well,” I say before taking a sip and setting the weighted vessel down once again.

  “Indeed I will.” His brows lift. “Do extrapolate on why this is necessary.’”

  “I need your lineage to seed a suitor for my child. I’ll have a daughter, as I’ve said before. And she will be powerful—heavily despised by all the Fems. She’ll need a proper suitor when the time is right, and that suitor shall not only come from you, it will be you as well one day.”

  His lips curl at the tips. “And this daughter—who may or may not hold her place as the leader of the Factions for all time. She will—”

  A splash of ice cold liquid lands over my face, and I blink back, completely caught off guard.

  “What in heaven’s name?” I growl it out like thunder, only to find a harlot wrapped around Sector Marshall, laughing as she coils her fingers through his hair.

  “You did this.” I hold out my hands, dripping wet, as I glower at the brunette with deep amber eyes, her cutting beauty nullified by the wickedness embedded in her soul.

  A crowd quickly amasses around us, and the music dims a notch. People point and laugh in my direction, catty women, obnoxious men. Why I ever bother with these lumbering beasts is beyond me.

  “Yes, I did this.” She nods to the empty glass on the bar. “And I’m going to do this, too.” She runs her hands over Sector Marshall’s chest, her tongue licking her lips in a quickened rhythm, making promises her body intends to keep.

  “Marlena Bishop.” Her name strums from me unceremoniously, and she freezes solid as she blinks my way.

  “You know my name. So what?” She shrugs back up at him. “What’s most important is that you know my name.” She blows him a kiss. “You might want to remember it. You’ll be shouting it later at a much more private venue.”

  I take a deep breath and a violent shudder runs through me as I dry off in an instant.

  “Marlena,” I say and she turns my way, doing a double take at my hair, my body. “You will have your time with him. But now is not the hour. Be gone before I curse you and your father’s entire lineage.”

  Her lids hood low as she glances back to the Sector in her arms.

  “Who is the demanding prostitute”—she growls— “and why on earth are you wasting your time entertaining her?”

  Sector straightens. “My love,” he whispers to her. “I would refrain from lowering yourself to name-calling. Have you not read that celestial beings are not to be slandered?”

  A laugh rips from her throat. “Are you calling this pasty thing an angel?” she balks my way. “Oh honey, I’ve seen a heavenly being or two—and you don’t have what it takes.” Her eyes ride up and down my body before pulling the Sector to herself. “Make a move for my man, and I will crush you under my heel. Why don’t you take your own advice and be gone yourself? There’s a cliff at the edge of town. I heard a long walk in that direction can do wonders for your soul.”

  The crowd around us breaks out into riotous laughter, all the while pointing my way and goading me to try it.

  “Did you just tell me to jump off a cliff?” I ask, rather amused at this creature who dares to test me.

  “You said it, not me,” she purrs as she attempts to climb him like a mountain.

  “Then you have sealed your fate. As you desire for me, it shall be done for you.”

  The crowd gasps.

  “What are you?” a belligerent man shouts from the side. His portly frame can hardly contain the buttons on his shirt. “A witch?”

  The crowd breaks out into laughter once again, women slapping their thighs, men holding their barrel-shaped bellies.

  “A witch I am not, but since you’ve dared to imply it, I’ll send the plague upon you all
. Remember this as you roil in pain. You’ve brought this curse upon yourself.”

  “The Black Plague?” An older woman with disheveled hair and missing teeth cackles. “This hag thinks she’s got some real might!” More laughter ensues from the crowd, and this time Marlena joins them.

  “You too,” I say to her. “In fact, you’ll get it first.” I swat the air and she blows away deep into the crowd and I quickly implement a protective hedge around the Sector and me for the evening. The crowd disperses, and soon another irritating presence appears. “Demetri.” He looks comely tonight with his dark hair, his knowing eyes, that mouth I’ve drunk down like wine. I close my eyes a moment, lest he sees the lust in them, and I unravel all of the good plans I’ve laid out like stones of lapis.

  “Demetri,” Sector Marshall growls.

  “Candace”— The dark prince smiles my way, the smile of a wolf once he spots his prey—“you shine in the heavenlies, but you rule with an iron scepter on Earth. There is no woman like you.”

  “I’m no mere woman,” I say, taking up my lager once again.

  Sector Marshall chuckles. “Dear Candace, do note that you rule with an iron scepter in the heavenlies as well. I’d be remiss not to mention the obvious. Of course, to a dolt such as you, Demetri, it’s not as apparent.”

  Demetri’s chest expands. “Oh, Dudley, you do have a wicked charm about you. Am I correct to assume you’ll be utilizing those powers of persuasion to lure some unsuspecting woman to a dark corner so you can have your way with her?”

  The bartender furnishes him with a drink of his own and he tips his glass to the Sector.

  “Yes, well”—Sector Marshall sweeps the room with his gaze—“Candace has informed me, I have a rite of passage to tend to. It appears I’m about to become a father.”

  A laugh bubbles from me. “Don’t sound so enthused.” I tilt my head his way. “No, really, don’t. I’m not allowing you to fall in love. I’m not enforcing a bond between you and the child either. You will know your ancestors when the time is right. And, they’ll be in eternity right along with you before you know it. There will be plenty of time for bonding then.”

  Demetri gives a wistful shake of his head. “Earthly time is so tedious once we’re on the planet. How amused they would be to know when the Master suggested they were but a vapor, He wasn’t off the mark.” Demetri raises his glass and holds it to the room. “To the oblivious vapors among us.” He gives a wink my way. “Perhaps it is time that I, too, find a woman to bear a child for me.”

  “You will,” I smart. “But in a different time, a different place. You’re only granted one woman, but you’ll take three. And you’ll love one deeply.”

  His smile expands, but it’s nothing more than a façade. I know all of his smiles, all of his kisses, and right now Demetri isn’t amused. He’s angry with himself for betraying me so easily.

  “Don’t say it,” I cut him off at the pass, but he simply smiles a little wider.

  “My dear, love, Your Grace.” He gives a mocking nod. “If I am with another woman, it will only be because my end goal is to land by your side again one day. That is the purpose of these people, these half-breeds, isn’t it? The Factions, the war you’ve manufactured between my kind and our Sector brethren. It’s all a ploy to see how hard I am willing to fight for our love, for you. Mark my words, Candace. I will win. I will prove to you that I am a proper suitor for you. And you will forgive me of past transgressions. Together we will spend eternity side by side.”

  I lift my chin as if he’d struck me.

  “Let me expound on my point. You will not love two of the woman you’ll lie with. Those will be perfunctory affections, a means to an end. But the third will rival any affection you feel for me. Perhaps I will arrange that you could never truly have her. I’ll set the simple to confound the wise.” A prideful smile curves my lips.

  “Nonsense.” He lands his glass down on the bar and the amber liquid slops over the lip. “There won’t be a single woman who could wrangle my heart compass from your direction.”

  Sector Marshall grunts, “Spare us the platitudes. You made your philandering bed. Why don’t you enjoy an earthling or three? Neither of us will care.”

  Demetri glances down as he considers this a moment.

  “Dudley gets a lineage— as do I.” He closes his eyes a moment as if it pained him. “And—seeing that he has the advantage of your grace and mercy, I ask boldly for a gift as well.”

  “Mmm,” I moan. “Of course, you do. What is it you want?”

  “The gift of delusion.”

  Delusion. I let the horror swill in my mind a moment. It occurs to me he could usurp my authority on the matter if I deny him. He could go to the Father, and once my favoritism toward the Sectors is revealed, I would be forced to submit. This I know is true.

  “Fine.” I don’t hesitate granting his wish. And by doing so, my power remains with me. “Just one delusion. Choose wisely. Any other deception you’d like to pull off will have to be crafted and held together entirely from your wicked wit.”

  “Thank you. Now tell us”—Demetri feasts his gaze on mine—“what is the end game of this Nephilim nightmare you’ve pulled us into? What is the real prize? What is the truth?”

  He draws a slow nod from me.

  “I will tell you exactly that—the truth.”

  12

  Skyla

  In an odd turn of events, Chloe’s memories have slowly grafted themselves to my mine as if they were my own.

  Is it happening to her as well? I’m not asking, and she’s not telling. But I can see her past, understand her story as efficiently as reading a book. All of her memories, good and bad, are uploading to the hard drive of my mind. Inescapable is the verbal abuse her mother put her through, while her passive father looks on. Glendora Bishop is a peach that makes Emma look as if she’s ready for sainthood.

  Chloe isn’t an angel either, not in the traditional sense. She’s the mean girl in just about every scenario, destined to be the bad seed regardless of her upbringing. But a mother like my own, Lizbeth, might have tempered her. She might have spared Chloe from walking down a very dark path, but Glendora nurtured it. She all but narrowed the road for Chloe. And my heart breaks for her.

  Chloe Bishop never stood a chance. And as for Gage, she loved him. Her affection for him was as real as my own. It was palpable. You could dig your teeth into it. She wanted to warm herself under his affection. She could have thrived there. The light of his love would have untwisted her psyche and made her whole again. But that’s not how it played out.

  “What do you think?” Rory gives a spin, right here in the Landon family room in front of Mom, Tad, Brielle, Drake, Ethan, Emily Morgan, myself as I play the part of Chloe Bishop, every Landon and Oliver toddler in the universe, and Logan Oliver himself.

  Drake and Ethan are glued to the television set—to the news of all things, where reports of that awful virus that’s sweeping across all of Europe is lighting up the screen. And now, ten cases of what they’re calling the Kingdom Virus have appeared right here in the United States. Three cases in California. One in Washington. Six on the East Coast. It’s terrifying. Over seven hundred people have died to date in Europe, and thousands of others are hospitalized. Entire cities are being quarantined. Food for those on lockdown is scarce. I would be lying if it didn’t shake me to my core.

  Rory spins like a ballerina in a catastrophe of a wedding dress that looks as if she ripped it out of Brides R Us circa 1980. It has a high frilly turtleneck, puffy shoulders that ensure the fact she could drive a ball down a football field with no trouble from the opposing team, glitter, sequins, beading, and dear God, are those actual feathers around her torso?

  Tomorrow is the big day. My wedding to Logan is set to transpire with or without me, and it’s enough to make me want to cause a wedding day slaughter just like the one that occurred on Mia’s wedding day to Gabe. That bloody catastrophe served as a harbinger for their less than st
ellar marriage.

  “Oh, it’s awful,” I grunt. And I don’t mind at all that I said it out loud because I’m positive Chloe Bishop herself would have said the same thing.

  Wrong, Chloe is quick to correct me. I would have said, My God, it’s so very you, Skyla. Oh, how I hope you’ll let me borrow it one day when I get married to my Prince Charming. Then I would have stuck my finger down my throat and vomited on your glass slippers.

  You always did know how to one-up me, I tell her.

  Rory squints over at me. “What did you say?”

  Mom is quick to wave me off while she rocks a sleeping Jaxson in her arms.

  “Don’t mind Chloe. Skyla, you are a beautiful bride.” Her lips quiver as if she might be sick—sick from the lie she just spewed. “I think what Chloe meant was, isn’t it bad luck to show the groom your dress before the big reveal?”

  “What?” Rory looks both irritated and affronted. “I don’t believe in luck.”

  “Ha!” Tad balks. “What do you think keeps landing me right back in the safety of my own home time and time again? I’m telling you, the other guys down at the jailhouse are starting to call me Teflon Tad.”

  Rory rolls her eyes. “Aren’t you going away for a very long time on fraud charges? That doesn’t sound very lucky to me.”

  “I’m more than just lucky.” He lifts the pant leg on his left side, revealing an ankle bracelet. “Look at the bling I get to lug around with me. That right there says I’m a pretty important guy.”

  Bree bops her way over and picks up both of Rory’s hands. “Who the hell cares? My best friend is getting married! Again, but that’s a teeny tiny Oliver detail. What do you think of your bride, Logan?”

  “He’s speechless.” Rory lifts her chin with pride. That mop on her head looks permanently matted. I really will have to shave my scalp clean once I take possession of my body again. When Logan brought it up to me, I thought he was being sarcastic.