Crown of Ashes

by Addison Moore

  “No,” I whisper as I take a catatonic step toward the destruction.

  Marshall wraps an arm around me, weighted and uncomfortable. “Yes, Ms. Messenger, I’m afraid it’s so. Don’t fret. There is a method to this madness. No matter what the circumstances life throws your way—you are the victor. There is a Son seated to the right of the Master who ensured just that.”

  Chloe snorts at Marshall’s cryptic words. “So, you’re saying if it isn’t ending well, it isn’t the end?”

  Marshall snaps his neck in her direction so quick and curt a natural human would have severed their spinal cord. “Precisely, Ms. Bishop.” But there is something in his tone, a harshness he has never invoked with her before that sets my teeth on edge. Everything about tonight, about the last few weeks, has eaten at my sanity. What is this new world Demetri and his cursed goblet filled with my own blood has ushered us into?

  How is it that life and all of its offerings are suddenly so bitter, so randomly grievous and destructive?

  I glance over and spot Melody Winters clinging to Gage.

  Why have the dead forgotten their boundaries? Why has the universe unleashed her fury and forgotten to keep the natural order of things in check?

  The smoke finally settles at the base of the decimated fountain and Ethan helps Emily down the driveway.

  “Good show!” Chloe claps as Em passes us by. “Bravissimo! Bravissimo! Tell us, Em!” Chloe’s voice echoes into the night like a haunted refrain. “Who was the statue? Was it Gage or Skyla? Let me guess! It was me!” That’s one thing about this demon by my side. Chloe owns her wickedness. She understands the full impact of her destruction and doesn’t apologize for its aftermath. Of course, heavy as lead, dumb as a stick—or statue as it were, is Chloe. Chloe has destroyed and decapitated more people than I care to count.

  Emily turns our way, her weary eyes a muted shade of red, glowing like embers lit in a jack-o-lantern. “It’s all of you. Destruction has come to devour you, to have you devour each other. This is the beginning of the end.”

  A stunted silence strangulates the crowd.

  “Good night!” Chloe trills to Em as if they just had a friendly powwow regarding something cheer related, the only real topic, outside of Gage, that could excite Chloe.

  I glance over my shoulder where Gage and Logan stand, pale-faced and stunned. The slight look of anger rings my husband’s eyes as he locks his gaze with mine.

  The beginning of the end. I nod his way.

  It sounds incredibly fitting.

  Gage

  There have been many battles I’ve fought in my short, spirited tenure on this planet, and I’ve fought every single one of those for Skyla. In her name, for her people, for our love, and now for our children. There have been victories, and there have been losses. I’m not entirely sure how to quantify the latest war I’ve landed myself in, but I guarantee I will emerge the victor. Skyla and her people will prosper, and my boys will be safe, secure, and most of all, well on the side of good and not evil. I’m not entirely sure how Demetri Edinger, my genetic supplier, the designer of my being, passes himself off as an angel of light, but this war he’s waging, these lunatic ideals he’s hell-bent on passing along to the rest of humanity, has me eroding on the inside. His words have become my affliction, his ideals the necrotic growth that’s eroding me from the inside.

  Logan and I survey the disaster that was once Ellis’ greatest feat. His New Year’s bash has turned to a pile of shit, and the clock is nowhere near midnight. A few of the partygoers have staggered inside only to emerge back out after being chased into the night by Ellis himself.

  “Let’s get her home.” Logan pats my back, and we head over to Skyla. When she walked into the room tonight, she illuminated the darkness like the brightest star. Skyla chose to wear the exact dress she wore to our vow renewal last September. I’d like to think that was a peace offering, a beacon of hope of things to come. The potential symbolism wasn’t lost on me. But then, I’m desperate and refusing to believe the fact she didn’t have anything else to wear. With all of my heart I want to believe that Skyla is on the cusp of forgiveness, that a sit-down between the two of us, an honest to God heart-to-heart is just on the horizon. I can’t stand the idea of the clock striking midnight and her anger still percolating against me. I need Skyla and her love. I need all of her approval just to navigate the rocky bottom that I’ve landed on. Skyla needs me, too, doesn’t she?

  “I’ll give you a ride.” I land an arm over her shoulder, soft as cotton. It made my stomach turn to see Dudley doing this exact same thing just a few minutes prior. He’s chomping at the bit to have her, and I know damn well a desperate Sector is a dangerous one.

  “Laken is taking me.” Skyla zips into Cooper Flander’s waiting car like she was fleeing a poltergeist, and they take off before I can refute the idea. I don’t mind her taking off with Laken and Coop. It’s Chloe and Dudley I’d have issues with.

  I pat Logan on the shoulder. “You okay?” He’s still holding the back of his neck while staring at the carnage. I know him. He’s ten steps ahead, trying to piece together how this madness fits into the grand scheme of our lives. The prophecy might not have affected Logan directly, but anything that touches Skyla and me affects him directly. Most likely the same goes for Chloe.

  He breaks free from his trance. “I’m fine. I’m going to head in and help Ellis out. Something tells me he can use a clear head right about now.” His brows pinch at the center. Logan has that pained look in his eyes that he gets so often these days when he looks at me as if I’ve caused the pain to begin with. I know I have. And I also know that he loves me. I’m so sick of bringing pain to those I love the most. Just the thought sends a toxic level of grief right into the pit of my gut. “Why don’t you head home and kiss your boys good night?”

  “Now that’s a great idea.” If my parents weren’t there, I would have given that great idea pause. As much as I miss the boys, as badly as I want to hold them and land a kiss to each of their tender foreheads, I want Skyla to know that I’m still working with her. I’m giving her time, but I think we both know I’m on the losing end of the hourglass. That ridiculous rock with my personal number monogramed on the back of it comes to mind. That number. I shake it out of my head. “I’ll see you soon.” I pull him in and give a tight squeeze. “Happy New Year, buddy. I hope it’s everything you want it to be.”

  “It will be,” he assures. Logan pulls back and catches my gaze. “You have the power to control your own destiny, Gage. Do not buy into the bullshit anyone tries to feed you.”

  Anyone is a long list of complicated people and entities—my father, Candace herself, my crooked-minded brother, and now Emily has joined that long and wicked roster.

  “I am who I am.” A part of me knows there are no truer words. “I will accomplish all that I set out to do for those that I love and no one else. I promise you this. No one and nothing will ever take my heart away from those that I love and all that I believe to be true.”

  And with those words, I let the night eat away at my shadow as I evaporate into nothing.

  For a moment, I pause from my journey. The closet in the bedroom I share with Skyla is where I’m all but programed to go, but I hesitate and opt for the front door. Yes, my parents are up there with the boys, but a part of me demanded I go formal and I can’t figure out why.

  The Landon house is lit up like a pumpkin at Halloween. Laughter and music seep from inside as the entire wooden structure vibrates from the party going on. My blood boils a minute. Who in their right mind is having a party? Drake and Ethan were both at Ellis’, weren’t they? Wait—this can’t be the little get-together Lizbeth mentioned, could it?

  I ring the doorbell, but the raucous music inside swallows up any hope of someone answering. I didn’t drive tonight so I don’t have a key. I’ve been teleporting freely ever since Skyla put me in the doghouse. But I’d much rather travel at a snail’s pace, bogged down with car seats and diaper bags,
making two and three trips to and from the house. It might be an ordeal to go anywhere with the twins, but it’s our ordeal. A beautiful ordeal.

  I give a stiff knock, and when no one bothers to open, I do a brief glance around and teleport myself right into the foyer.

  “Son.” Demetri appears before me with a mildly stunned redheaded woman by his side. Come to think of it, she looks more amused than she ever does shocked at what she’s just witnessed. “Do practice discretion. There are a myriad of far more discreet locales to materialize. Our people are in peril these days, you know.” He brings a glass to his lips and wraps a smile around the edge before taking a sip of the bubbling liquid. I glance past him at the sea of people at or above the age of my parents, and I’ll admit I’m a bit impressed with the way they have the house rocking.

  “I’ll consider that.” He’s right. Discretion is the name of the game. And every last part of me hates it when he’s right, but I’m suddenly understanding the urge to teleport in this exact location rather than the closet upstairs. I’d bet every dirty dollar I don’t have that it was Demetri who was prompting me to do just that. He smelled me outside that door like the hellhound he is and all but summoned me. That will teach me to respond to any geographical urges again.

  “Who’s the friend?” I glance to the older redhead in a tight black dress, tits hanging out like twin pale moons. I’m surprised to see how beautiful she is. She’s about his age, which puts her in the running, I suppose, and oddly this makes me feel bad for Lizbeth. Her longtime crush on my father spans back to the time they were both living in L.A. Of course, Demetri was simply stalking her then—waiting for the right to claim her. It’s a wonder why he ever let Tad marry her to begin with. And now my interest into their bizarre love triangle is piqued.

  “Dominique Winters.” She extends a delicate hand, and I shake it. Cold, bony, yet firm. Her features are textbook villain, sharp, dark brows that peak without warrant. Hard features and a blood red smile that looks more like a curse than anything born of kindness. “You must be the prince that rescued my daughter from a certain death in the freezer.” Her lips turn down at the corners as if she might be sick.

  “Yes.” I straighten at the memory. So that’s who she is. “In fact, I saw your daughter tonight.” More of her daughter than necessary. “She seems quite healthy, and in a great mood. It’s good to see she’s moving on.” And God, those moves. I’m still traumatized from the private lap dance she thrust upon me.

  “We’ll be suing the hospital, of course.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, and a chill runs up my spine at what she might say next. The morgue isn’t doing that great. One swift lawsuit to the ass and Mom and Dad will have to bury their finances in one of those empty plots in the back. They own the cemetery, too, which has always proven to be the big winner as far as businesses in their repertoire, but it’s as dead as a corpse as far as profits stand. It’s amazing what people are willing to pay to send their loved one off in style, but my father has never believed in price-gouging the grieving, so even in that they are not wealthy—not by anybody’s means. “For you though, I have a reward.” Her lips expand, revealing an entire mouthful of knife-sharp teeth, each one a pointed canine, and I glance to my father for explanation, but he’s as unmoved as that ridiculous grin on his face he can’t seem to shake. And back the hell up. Did I just seamlessly consider him my father? That has to end.

  “A reward won’t be necessary,” I quickly assure her. A part of me wonders, though, what’s the going rate for a daughter brought back to life. Not that I had anything to do with her miraculous rousing from the dead. I doubt the poor thing wasn’t dead to begin with. She’s right to sue the living shit out of the hospital. I almost shoved her in the fridge and called it a night. Come to think of it, if the refrigeration unit weren’t busted, I wouldn’t have been there at all.

  Demetri’s brows peak and he offers a slight nod as if letting me know I’m onto something.

  Bastard. Do not read my mind. You are not welcome here.

  His brows dip as if disappointed, and I put up a missile defense shield around my thoughts.

  “Nonsense.” Dominique takes up my hand and lays her thumb against my palm. She leans in and bears her gaze into mine. Her eyes are made up of one too many colors for me to keep track of, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s doing something nefarious with this feel-you-up, stare-you-down routine so I pull my hand back and stuff them both into my pockets. Holy shit, is she reading my mind, too?

  “Your father tells me you have an account with the Bank of Paragon. I’ll be making a rather large deposit into your name come Monday. There’s not a thing you can do about it. When I set out to do something, no one and nothing can stop me.” She laughs a large, hacking laugh, full of power and loud as hell. She manages to compose herself just as quick as she erupted and glares from Demetri to me. “I’d best thank the hostess for a pleasant evening.”

  “So soon?” Demetri’s eyes squint out a laugh all their own. “We’ve only minutes until the new year. Do stay. Whoever shall I kiss at the stroke of midnight?”

  She grunts as if ready to vomit. “If you insist.” She stalks off in the direction of the chaos, and I take a moment to inspect this devil before me.

  “What is she?” I’m not entirely sure I know who she is either—I don’t have a lot of faith in the things my father’s friends tell me. “Let me guess, a demon like you.”

  “Hush.” His eyes widen as he hisses out the word. In all the years I have known Demetri, this moment, right here, is perhaps the most animated he’s ever been. “Never again equate me with those sons of perdition. I chose to side with the Son. I am no more a devil than you are.” His eyes twirl a toxic hue of molasses and blood. “We are God’s. I am created to serve, and you are born as an heir to the throne. I won’t have you dragging our good names through the celestial mud.” His brows hike a moment before that greasy grin reappears once again. “You are my heir as well. I have no doubt you will serve your people well.”

  “The Videns don’t really need—”

  “I’m not talking about the Videns,” he doesn’t hesitate to cut me off. “I’m talking about your Fem lineage, your alliance with the Countenance—a superb organization that’s already agreed to meet with you, though you’ve yet to officially take the throne.”

  His whip, sharp tone, his demanding demeanor, it all sets my blood to lava.

  “I have a throne in the event you have conveniently forgotten. One in which I find no use of. As I was saying before you so rudely cut me off, the Videns are Skyla’s people, not mine. She is their leader, just as she is the leader of the rest of the Factions. I may have swallowed that curse you force-fed me, but let me be clear about one thing—I will never turn my back on her or what she believes in.” There. Those words purged something deep down inside of me, and my entire body feels lighter, healthier, albeit not much wiser. Words are just that. But that curse has already proven to be a millstone.

  “You are correct.” He leans in just enough. Demetri’s heavy pine-scented cologne weighs down my senses. Doesn’t he know that scent alone is associated with urinal cakes and sparkling kitchen floors? “You will never be forced to go against your love, her beliefs, or yours. That is the beauty, Gage. I can no more force your hand than press a crown over your unwilling head. But you are willing,” he muses as he bears in hard over me with that menacing gaze. “You are more than willing to yield to what is right for your people, my son. In this, the eleventh hour of humanity, it is more important than ever that our kind take command of the spiritual reins. What is proclaimed on earth is sealed in heaven, and our victory over the Sectors will be an everlasting one. Eternal implications lie in the balance.”

  I try to take in his words, but they speed by like cars on a highway. “Wait—are you saying that the last one standing as a ruling authority once the planet wraps up is left in a power position for all eternity? Why would that make sense? Once the planet project is through, t
here isn’t a lot to take command of.” The planet project. Why the hell did that just come out of my mouth? I’ve never called the end times anything so cold-hearted before. A shiver rips through me at the thought I might be acquiescing to Demetri’s wickedness so soon.

  His brows flicker like twin black flames. “Once again you are correct. Eternal implications are in the balance. So you see how very important the part you play is on behalf of the Fems. You alone are capable to usher in this new era—the final era that will yield much for both our kind and humanity.”

  The door behind me bursts open and in tumbles Bree, Em, Drake, and Ethan. Skyla comes up, and the mere sight of her takes my breath away. Skyla is stunning on any night, but tonight, in that wedding dress, she shines like the star from heaven she is.

  She pauses and looks up, stunned with her crystal-clear eyes darting from my demon of a father to me. Skyla’s eyes are the clearest blue, but you really have to scour to see the color. I have never seen that shade, that level of transparency on any other human. Mia might be her lookalike in every way, but her eyes hold a darker hue. Skyla is one of a kind in every respect. Candace, her biological mother, might be far more of a twin to her than Mia, but the truth is, Skyla’s heart is made of pure gold.

  “Discussing your descent into hell?” Skyla cracks a dull smile before disappearing up the stairs.

  “I’d better go. I’ve got far more important work to do than assuring your people rule the celestial roost well past kingdom come.” I start up the steps then backtrack, shooting a quick glance into the family room where Bree and Em shake their hips to the music. “Emily Morgan shared some kind of a twisted prophecy tonight.”

  He steps in, that greasy grin of his slips right off his face. “Whatever did it say?”