Gage and I will be together once again.
I’ll need him to trust me, love me, want me.
I’ll whittle down his defenses, and then I’ll destroy him.
Taming his spirit has been my destiny all along.
Gage and his reckless love have gone way too far. He needs to be reined in, and I need to be the one to do it.
I’m taking down Demetri’s son. Cutting him off at the proverbial balls. My mother versus the demon Fem round two. Karma has a name, and it is Candace Messenger.
My mother can be such a beautiful, beautiful bitch.
And I’m not sorry to say it, Gage, but so can I.
That night, about three in the morning, I get up to use the restroom and can’t fall back asleep. Usually it’s a gift of mine to fall back asleep no matter how many times I get up in the night. But on this night, with that strange Faction meeting Gage threw together last minute, thoughts of binding Fems, and maybe the fact my stomach is rumbling for something to eat, slumber seems to be eluding me.
Logan is breathing soundly and evenly. I’ve watched his chest rise and fall in the moonlight, and it’s a mesmerizing sight. He’s so used to me rolling in and out of bed all night long, he’s more than capable of sleeping through the carnage. Jaxson lies almost motionless in his bassinet by my side, his precious fists balled up over his head. And even though Nathan and Barron have their big boy beds in the next room with Misty and Beau, they still beg to sleep in their old cribs, and that’s exactly where they are now. Yes, they were quickly reassembled a few months back after the boys begged for them. But soon enough, we’ll be at Whitehorse for good, and my guess is we’ll all be missing this cloistered little room more than we’ll ever know.
I slip out into the hall, only to find the lights still on downstairs. Not a shocker. There hasn’t been a single night where everyone in this house is asleep all at once. Drake and Ethan usually take the nightshift playing video games until the wee hours, and that’s exactly what I find them doing.
“Whoa, dude.” Drake tosses a pillow at his brother. “Watch what you’re doing. Aim your ass somewhere else next time. I can’t breathe. I’ve only got one more life, and then it’s game over for me.”
“You and everyone else on the planet,” I mumble, squinting into the light.
Emily steps out of the kitchen, still in the same clothes she wore yesterday. She’s nursing Ella, that dark-haired beauty with her tiny kinky curls that I love so much. Her little legs are so long they dangle past Em’s hip.
“Goodnight, Messenger,” she bleats.
“Em, are you just getting to bed?”
“The world is burning, Mess. Who the hell cares about time anymore?” She takes off, and I head for the fridge and pull out the almond milk. Emily is right. Who the hell cares if I’m keeping vampire hours with the rest of them? A pink box from the Gas Lab sits on the counter, and I peer inside to find a half a dozen glazed donuts.
“Oh, thank God up in heaven.” I practically sigh with relief at the sight.
A knock erupts at the back door just off the kitchen, and I freeze solid. Nobody uses that door. We haven’t used that door but once or twice after we moved in, and since then it’s been barricaded with stacks of cereal boxes sitting on a firm foundation of soda cans. The knocking picks up, and a chill runs up my spine.
Come to think of it, the very last time I looked out the door’s window I saw Ezrina pretending to hang herself that first year we moved to Paragon.
The knocking ensues a bit more violently. I glance back at Drake and Ethan in the next room, and a sense of false security hits me. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to see who it was. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to let them in.
My feet speed in that direction, and I won’t lie, the urge to waddle is real. Not only is this sweat pea in my tummy keeping me up at night with my bladder, and a hangry stomach, but my body wants to swing into full preggo mode in every sense of the word.
My fingers latch over the homemade curtain and I pull it to the side to see a pale face and a shock of frazzled red hair. I let out a little yelp of terror as I quickly jump back. My adrenaline hits its zenith and my heart pounds against my chest with the strength of a wrecking ball.
“It’s me”—a female voice snips—“your sister, Rory.”
“Rory?” I hiss to myself as I pull the curtain back once more, and sure enough, there she is wearing Melody Winters’ face like a Halloween mask. She has mischievous eyes, a tiny button nose, and lips that look as if they’ve been artificially inflated.
I frown over at her as I open the door as far as those pallets of soda cans will allow.
“What do you want?” I ask with an edge to my voice. “If you came to slaughter me in my sleep, you’re out of luck. There’s no sleep in sight. I’m about to wolf down a couple of donuts for the heck of it.” There’s no way I’m breathing a word of Operation Dark Horse to her. Rory is sort of a dark horse herself. Ironic since she rode in on one many, many moons ago—although that steed was rather pale.
Her brows lift. “Mind if I join you?”
“Only if you promise not to burn the house down when you leave.”
She rolls her eyes as she widens the door. “How the heck am I supposed to get in there with all that junk blocking the entry?”
“It’s not an entry. And if we had any kind of relationship at all, you’d know that.”
“Fine.” She grabs onto my hand and I do my best to help her climb over the debris as an avalanche of cereal boxes and a stack of paper plates go tumbling to the floor. I shut the door behind her and choose to leave the mess we just made right where it is.
She gives an amused look around. “I’m surprised you let me in.”
“Yes, well, the baby has me doing all sorts of ridiculous things. I think it’s eating my brain cells for breakfast. Do you want a donut?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Would you believe Dominique Winters has a no junk food policy in that twisted mansion she lives in?”
“Dominique Winters is batshit crazy. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten lost for good in that maze of a house.” It’s true. Somewhere along the line, Dominique Winters decided to give that Winchester chick a run for her psychotic money. Dominique took a page out of that quirky woman’s playbook and has been adding onto her home for years now. And word on the schizophrenic street is that a lot of those doors lead to nowhere. “Did she give you a road map when you moved into your new body? I don’t believe for a minute Dom hasn’t noticed Cassandra Graham has left the haunted building.”
Rory waves me off as I gather a couple of glasses and motion for her to pick up the box of donuts.
“Cassandra Graham is still very much here. She’s not happy about it either.”
“I take it you didn’t get her permission before taking over?” We take a seat at the table and I pour us each a glass of almond milk.
“I didn’t need it,” she says, plucking a donut out of the box. “The body wasn’t hers to begin with.” She cocks her head while toasting me with a donut.
Neither was Chloe’s body but I’m not up for debating the rules of a proper possession.
“So what you’re saying is I could come back as Melody Winters and save myself from infiltrating hostile Bishop territory. Not that Chloe was all that hostile—all things considering. Why are you here? Is Gage waiting for you to lure me outside so the two of you could finish me off?”
She rolls her eyes. “I would never hurt you now that you’re with child.”
“You can always wait until I have the baby.” I wolf down half a donut and moan through each delicious bite.
“I could, but I won’t.” Her upper lip twitches. “My time is at hand.”
“What time? You’re dead, Rory. You don’t belong in this place or time at all. You are in effect a time bandit.”
“It’s true,” she muses as she takes another bite. “But Mother has factored me into this game of hers. You see, I may have been dead, but this, t
oo, has been my destiny.”
“You died in utero,” I remind her.
She swallows down her next bite and bears those glowing eyes of hers into mine.
“I know, Skyla. Our mother didn’t have a say in that. But she wasn’t going to let my existence be for naught. Instead, she delicately wove my purpose in through yours. She controls only so much, you see. She needed assurances set into place, options. And our mother is a lot of things, but she is never out of assurances, or options. She knew that one day our people would need a sacrificial lamb. And before you snort your milk out of your nose, I’m not talking savior, I’m simply talking sacrifice. A great sacrifice for many. Although I’m less lamb, more goat.”
I take a deep breath, trying to figure out if navigating my way through Rory’s mind games is worth the energy at this early hour.
“So”—I lean in—“I’ll bite. You’re the sacrificial goat?”
“Well, it wasn’t going to be you. Nope. Not her Skyla.” She’s back to rolling her eyes again. And seeing that Melody Winters is barely out of her teens, it would seem I have a rather annoyed teenager in my presence. “Anyway, I’m over the resentment. I get it now. My world has been illuminated, the shadow of confusion cast out for good. Your role is to lead the Nephilim. Make no mistake, you will be viewed the victor. My role is to protect them. You need me to expose the schemes of the enemy and hopefully deter the greater enemy of both Celestra and the Fems.”
I inch back a notch. “Greater enemy?”
“You’ll see in time, Skyla. As soon as in a few days if all goes well.” She sighs hard as if she weren’t looking forward to it.
“Rory, what is it our mother has set up for you to do?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” She picks up a dirty spoon lying less than a foot away and attempts to examine her reflection in it. “I can’t wait until I get my pretty little head back.”
“I don’t get it. Why did our mother decide that I needed you? I have an entire army of Nephilim at my disposal. I have the Sectors, the Videns.”
Her cheek cinches as she snatches up another donut. “The job she has planned for me is personal. It’s not something she wanted to delineate for anyone else. You see, my dear sister, we are twin sides of a coin. You save our people with your life, and I save them with my death.” A crooked smile inches up her face. “Now doesn’t that sound just like our mother? Let me tell you a little celestial secret.” She leans in a notch. “My destiny has been to take down the Fems and protect Celestra all along. It turns out, death wasn’t strong enough to stop that from happening.”
“You slept with my ex,” I flatline. “How exactly did that fit into your destiny?”
“Okay, fine.” She shrugs as she takes another aggressive bite of the donut in her hand and washes it down with milk. “For a season I believed that you hijacked my destiny. I tried to take it by the horns, but now I see it wasn’t meant to be for me. However, Mother agreed I should play a significant role—one she fashioned for me herself.” A smile stretches across her face as a touch of pride infiltrates her eyes. “I, Skyla, am a harbinger.”
“A harbinger?” I echo. “A harbinger of what?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out. And that’s all we’re going to say about that.” Her face grows long for a moment before she takes a breath as if ushering a dark thought from her mind. She wolfs down the rest of her donut before meeting her gaze with mine. “This is important to me.” She nods my way. “I need your forgiveness.”
“Then ask.”
Her lips twitch from side to side as if considering it.
“I’m sorry, Skyla. I apologize for the pain I’ve caused you. For sleeping with a man you considered sacred. For trying to be you, for ignoring your insolent children when they screamed in my face for whatever it is they wanted.” She closes her eyes shut tight a moment as if trying to dissolve the memory.
“I forgive you.”
Her eyes spring open. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” I shrug in my sugary sleep-deprived stupor. Honest to God, the jury is still out whether or not this is real. “What about Chloe? What are you doing with her? I want to know everything.”
A dark laugh gurgles in her throat. “Chloe wants power. She needs to believe she’s in control or she’s dangerous. Believe me, if I didn’t entice her, someone far more nefarious would have, and you would have a genuine new problem. Right now, she’s content to think we’ll be cooking up a grand scheme against you soon.” Her expression smooths out. “But soon enough she’ll be apprised of the truth.”
I place my hand over hers. “What happens soon enough, Rory?”
“Nothing that we should be discussing now.” Her affect softens. “Tell me, Skyla, that you’re enjoying your life. You have two gorgeous men vying after you? You have beautiful children, even if I can’t stand to be near any of them. A whole house full of people who love you, and a very kind mother.” She nods toward the stairs. “The one who lives here, I mean. She’s much kinder than the one I live with,” she whispers that last part, but a peal of thunder goes off outside, despite the fact.
A small laugh trembles from me. “Why do I get the feeling you’re letting down your defenses? It almost looks as if all of the anger you had over my very existence is finally dissipating.”
“Dissipated.” Her thumb rubs over mine. “And dare I say, I’ve even come to love you.” She sighs hard. “We’ll see each other again.”
“Rory, are you leaving—as in for paradise?” I lean in, suddenly intrigued by what might come from her next.
“All will be known.” She stands, and I follow her to the back of the kitchen where she came from. “Oh, and Skyla?” She shrugs my way. “Yes, Gage is gorgeous, and I won’t lie, he was a bit addictive. I did enjoy my intimate time with him, but it was for a purpose. It was for our people.”
I scour my brain in this early sugared-up hour to try to nail down the reasoning.
“Well, you screwed up his marriage to Chloe. I can sure as hell appreciate that. Although, he was using her to fuel me into a rage—and what a great job he did. He lost Wesley’s support because of it, too. Laken left Wes, and Wes left the Barricade. And apparently, Wes left behind a permanent antidote. Or at least a close enough version for Gage to piece it together on his own. I won’t lie, though. I hate that you slept with him. That you did it while looking like my twin.”
“Oh, Skyla, but the passion he poured out. It was all for you.” Her breathing picks up just thinking about it. “And regarding Gage”—she glances out the window at the papery fog filtering through the branches of the evergreens—“he has been well deceived.”
My heart thumps with glee just hearing her affirm it.
“Any thought on how I might make him see the light?”
She glances to the ceiling. “He’s terrified of losing you. The thought of eternal separation, it’s something he simply can’t risk. You’ll figure out a way, I’m sure. And when you do—”
“All will be right with the Nephilim world.”
She shakes her head. “Haven’t you been paying attention? If Gage ever comes around, there will be hell to pay.”
“There always is.”
Rory frowns a moment as she looks into my eyes. “I want you to know something. This body, Melody’s body, has had that inoculation you’re handing out.”
“Good,” I say. “That means your angelic markers are hidden from the world. You’ll be safe for a long time to come.”
She gives a single nod. “Remember that.”
She hurdles the cereal boxes and runs off into the night.
“Rory!” I shout after her. “I love you!”
She stops cold and turns around as a glowing blue butterfly flutters around her head.
“I love you, too, Skyla Messenger! I really do.”
And just like that, the Paragon fog swallows her whole.
The news over the next few days is stratospheric
ally alarming on every level. The worldwide death toll is staggering. So many souls sent into eternity, businesses decimated, economies collapsing like dominos. I’ve summoned the Retribution League to Marshall’s estate each and every day. A few extras have been included, but mostly it’s Brody, Ellis, Wes, Coop, Laken, Ezrina, Nev, Em, Michelle, Nat, Liam—even Rev and Mia have decided to join the effort along with Logan and myself. Emerson came late, and Holden and Serena have been perched in the branches in Marshall’s backyard, amused by our antics for the most part.
It’s the dead of winter, fat soot-covered clouds squat over the island as if they were ready to piss all over us, and I have no doubt they’re ready to do just that. The fog is swirling around us like poltergeists, like those ghostly dwellers in the Transfer that we haven’t seen since Wesley abandoned his home in that realm that was gifted to the Counts. The earth is raw and damp from last night’s torrential downpour, and the smell of animal dung permeates our senses. It’s safe to say the corral and the stables on the grounds are in need of a cleaning.
I look out at the crowd of friendly faces. Of course, Lexy is here as well, teaching us all dutifully how to bind a Fem with the best of them. It’s something she’s taught in the past, but I thought it was best we get a refresher course. And Marshall has contributed greatly himself—so much so that it makes me worry for him.
Sectors and Fems aren’t allowed to get down and dirty with the Faction wars, and this is a war in every sense of the word. Gage is some supposed exception because he was born of a Nephilim mother. He’s a half-breed within a half-breed—much like myself.
No, Marshall may not be able to fight this war, but he’s outfitting us nicely. Upstairs, in his closet, he has that old dress he gave me that once belonged to Marlena Bishop way back in the seventeenth century. Marshall gifted it to me for a formal a few years back that I attended while I was still a student at West, and it has the capability to bind a Fem all on its own. You can bet your bottom fashionista-dollar I’ll be wearing it when we lure Gage and his minions to Rockaway.
It can also tell a binding spirit to piss off, so it’s multi-functional properties are invaluable. It’s gorgeous, with a purple and black corset and a blooming tulle mesh skirt that only seems to have grown since the last time I’ve donned this supernatural temperamental frock.
Roar of the Lion : Celestra Forever After 7 Page 46