“She didn’t draw it out. This wasn’t some old-school Viden vision. It was more of a performance piece. She went nuts and singlehandedly destroyed the Harrison estate. She swung from the chandelier. She knocked the heads off that giant lion fountain they have out front. She treated a bronze sculpture twice her size as if it were a football, and now there’s a crater in their living room large enough to drive a car through.” My breathing ticks up a notch as a newfound fury rides through me. There’s not a part of me that believes Demetri doesn’t hold the answer to what that bizarre act might have meant tonight.
He looks past my shoulder at the door with such earnest intent, I half-expect it to blow off its hinges. “Who specifically was the vision for?”
“Skyla, myself—and get this, your wicked pet, Chloe Bishop.” Demetri has been Chloe’s spirit guide for years.
“The three of you?” His attention snaps back to me with amusement before his expression darkens. “It was no accident Ms. Morgan chose to forgo the proper medium in which the vision was to be given.” The cold as steel gaze of his hardens over me once again. “It can only mean one thing—a rebellion is at hand.” That painful smile curls on his lips. “Rebel as you might, it will most certainly lead to destruction. Know this, son. No good comes of it.” He turns to leave, then pauses. “And did you suggest my cologne is reminiscent of urinal cakes?” He ticks his head to the side as if shocked by this. “I’ll be sure to find something far more pleasing to the senses to grace your presence with.” He gives a slight bow. “Your highness.” He stalks off into the heart of the party without so much as a good tiding for the new year at hand. Figures. Demetri was practically giddy at the thought of a good destruction sitting on the horizon.
A thought comes to me. I never said that remark about urinal cakes out loud. He’s in my head, in my veins, in my blood and marrow. Escaping Demetri will prove impossible.
But I’ve got news for the monster that is my father. The only thing I plan on destroying is him.
The chaos from the party slowly fades as I head upstairs. The door to our room is slightly ajar, and I step in just in time to witness my mother christening one of the twins with a sneeze.
“Emma!” Skyla howls so sharp the baby in her arm jerks to life.
Crap. My mother of all people knows better than to sneeze in the face of an infant, my infant for that matter.
“Here.” I take the baby from her and inspect his brightly colored toenail affirming that it’s Nathan.
“Excuse me.” Mom fans her watery red eyes. “My allergies really hit hard as soon as I entered this tiny hole you cage yourselves up in.”
“Hole?” I ask, looking to my father as if to ask what the hell has gotten into her, and he simply shrugs as if powerless to control her mouth—which happens to be entirely true. Although I probably shouldn’t have repeated the slight, judging by the way Skyla’s chest is pumping with fury.
“Yes, it’s a hole, Gage,” Skyla snaps. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. And you”—she jabs her heated gaze toward my mother, who at the moment I don’t feel sorry for in the least—“I’m not buying your allergies. You have a full-blown cold. I could tell the minute I walked in that it sounded as if someone was pinching your nose shut when you said hello. If you weren’t feeling well, I’m sure my mother would have gladly come up to relieve you.”
Mom is quick to wave her off while gathering her things. “That wasn’t necessary. Happy New Year to you both.” She pecks my cheek with a kiss. “I’d lay low if I were you,” she whispers.
“I heard that,” Skyla sneers as she and my father exchange a polite embrace.
“If you need anything, call.” My father winks as they disappear and click the door shut behind them.
A welcome silence fills in the air around us as the boys both indulge in thick sleep that will hopefully last the duration of the night. If the boys enjoy one thing, it’s staying awake and crying out to let the whole world know about it.
The room vibrates for a moment as the crowd below shouts in unison, “Three-two-one—Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year, Skyla.” I lean in and steal a sweet kiss off her velvet soft cheek and savor it as if it were our last. I hope to God it’s not anywhere near our final goodbye.
She bats her lashes at me a moment. “You said goodbye the night you chose your father over me,” she says it low, each word measured with grief.
“It was me or the boys, Skyla. I made a sacrifice that any father would make.”
“Every other father would have consulted with their wife—if they were smart.” She holds up a hand as if to end it and places Barron down in his bassinet. I do the same with Nathan, and they both start in on a hacking cry. “I think tomorrow I’m going to have the swings brought up. I swear it’s the only way they sleep—even if it is for ten minutes at a time.” She picks up Nathan and hands him right back to me and does the same with Barron.
“Why wait until tomorrow? I’ll do it now. It will be a serious game of Tetris getting them to fit, but at this point I’d rather chuck the bassinets altogether.”
“Knock, knock,” a voice calls out softly from the doorway, and I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Lizbeth. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was irritated. This conversation regarding bassinets and baby swings was the longest Skyla and I have had since the incident, and I was enjoying the hell out of how normal it all felt.
“Aww,” she coos as she makes her way over and kisses both the boys in turn and somehow miraculously they seem calmer for it. “Happy New Year, kids.” She roughs up my hair and gives a little wink. “I’m so glad to see you working it out. I’m headed to bed. Enjoy the rest of the night.”
“What about your party?” Skyla’s eyes widen with mild panic as if she might be expected to tend to the melee herself.
“Demetri and his guest just left. Bree and Drake are down there having a good time. I’m sure they’ll handle it.”
Skyla’s lips twist in that adorable way that lets me know she’s irritated herself. “Is that what has you down—Demetri?” she asks sweetly just above a whisper as if trying to coax the answer from her.
“He kissed her at midnight,” she hisses as if suddenly they were alone in the room and ready to gossip. Lizbeth is incensed, and a part of me wonders if this were the sole purpose of Demetri’s redheaded guest.
Skyla’s chest rumbles with a dark chuckle. “He kissed her? I bet that was hard for you to witness. Him gnawing on the face of his lady friend while you were forced to kiss Tad.”
“Skyla.” Lizbeth rolls her eyes. The two of them have gone around the block when it comes to Lizbeth’s mostly inappropriate obsession with my DNA donor. “Good night, you two.” The boys ratchet up their cries as if detecting the fact she’s about to vacate the premises. They do seem to love their Mee-Maw. My mother almost stroked out when she heard what Lizbeth insisted her grandchildren call her. And to her credit, she only referenced Tad and Lizbeth as the Paragon Hillbillies just once after that. My father put down his seldom-used iron fist and refused her the right to use that verbiage ever again.
“Be good, boys,” she sings as she makes her way to the door. “And you two be nice to one another, too. The boys are cranky because they can feel your tension. Once the two of you kiss and make up, they’ll sleep like the little princes they are. You’ll see. Try me on this!” She gives a sly wink my way, and I mouth thank you before the door seals shut once again.
I turn to Skyla, each of us bouncing a baby in our arms, and my soul melts at how precious this moment is. “Let’s be nice.” I take a step in and take in her soft vanilla scent. My guts cinches at how easily aroused I am around her. Skyla and I haven’t been together for two solid weeks and my balls are aching, about to malfunction without her. “How about we head up to the butterfly room?”
“How about you go and get the swings, Gage?” She puts the baby down and takes Nathan from me. “And then go home and take care of your sick mother.” H
er head ticks to the side. “How was that for nice?”
“Perfect.” It may not be equal to some alone time in the butterfly room, but I’ll take it. I head down and Ethan helps me hoist the swings upstairs. Somewhere we’ve got another set, most likely in the garage with a pile of unopened boxes we had no room for after the baby shower.
No sooner do we get the swings situated in the last patch of free space in the bedroom than the boys miraculously fall asleep in them. Skyla shoos both Ethan and me out of the room and bolts the door behind us. I can’t blame her. She’s eager to get a single moment of shut-eye. Between nursing and no sleep, I don’t know how she’s surviving. Most likely she’s fueled off her hatred for me. And that alone brings a wry smile to my face.
“Still in the doghouse huh, dude?” Ethan gives my arm a swift sock and I grunt.
“Yes,” I say incredulously, rubbing the shit out of the bruise quickly forming. Ethan is a darker, meaner looking version of his brother Drake. Sort of a Landon add-on, since he didn’t move here with the original crew. “How are things with Em?”
He winces as if I just sucker punched him right back. “She’s a freaking mess, dude. Half her relatives are missing.” He spears me with a look as if I’m the one who turned the Videns into a thing of horror. “You fucking take care of that shit. You got it?”
“Her relatives volunteered for this shit,” I correct. My blood courses with rage at the thought of anyone pinning the blame on me. “Emily of all people should know that.”
“Signed up for it?” He glances toward the bottom of the stairs. “I doubt it. Em mentioned something about it being mandatory, something about compensation.” He smacks me over the arm. “Do what you can, dude. She’s really losing her mind.” He takes off, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
The Videns are my people. The thought they signed up for anything so sinister is enough to piss me off, but the thought of them being forced into something so wicked makes me want to snap my biological father’s head right off. And knowing that demon—another, far more sinister head would grow back right in its place.
I take a step back and take in the sweet sound of silence coming from the bedroom. My hand touches over the door, and I say a short prayer over my family, for the new year, for the distant future, and everything in between. Something tells me there aren’t enough prayers that will ever make a difference with this fine mess I’m in.
The next day, both of my parents are knocked out in bed. It turns out my mother’s “allergies” have morphed into an all-out flu. Giselle got wind of it and swung by with enough groceries to feed half the island.
“I’m going to cook and clean, and make sure they both feel their very best by this time next year!”
I take in poor innocent G with the face of Emerson Kragger and the mind of a kindergartner and shake my head. “They should be back in shape by the weekend. But who knows, with all that pampering you’re about to do, they might be well by nightfall. Do us both a favor and wash your hands up to your elbows every time you leave their room. Don’t touch your nose, eyes, or mouth, and whatever you do, don’t kiss Ellis. That could prove deadly for everyone involved.” Him especially if I catch them in the act. I caught them in a far more nefarious act a few months back and nearly bashed his skull in. I still don’t feel too bad about that. At any given time, Ellis Harrison is higher than ten hippies. For the life of me I can’t wrap my head around the fact my sister has chosen him of all people to fall in love with.
Her eyes expand the size of dinner plates. “Oh, I won’t. I’ve been dead myself, and I don’t think Ellis would like that very much.” She leans in with her hand to her mouth. “They don’t light it up nearly as much as Ellis would care for.”
“Nice.” I think. “I’ll see you later. I’d better check on Skyla and the kids, make sure they didn’t catch anything.” I take off and head for the Landon house. There’s no way in hell I’m even mentioning the fact my parents are all but on their deathbeds. Skyla will have my head on a platter. I’m sure at this point it would take very little to land me there.
All I can think about on the drive over is how in the hell to get our marriage back on track. An unfamiliar car is pulled high in the driveway as if it belongs here. A small blue Corolla with a clown’s head in the rearview window and I almost want to laugh. Skyla used to detest the sight of those haunted looking phantasms, but not anymore thanks to my father, Barron, the proper one.
But who would be visiting with that ode to Skyla’s old fear? I suppose it could be coincidental, but I’ve learned long ago that not many things around here are.
“Knock, knock,” I say as I let myself in with a key this time, old school. The scents of onions and celery and something thicker collide in an appetizing crescendo, and if I didn’t know better, it smells a lot like the chicken soup Giselle was starting on.
Melissa whizzes by me with a smirk. “You have guts to show your face around here.” She jogs up the stairs, taking them two by two.
“Happy New Year to you, too!” I call after her.
Mia bops down the hall and takes a bouncing step back when she spots me. “You’re here!” she squeals. “Skyla, he’s here! You can cut his balls off just like you promised!” She races into the family room ahead of me, and I groan at the thought of having yet another body part theoretically on the chopping block.
“Happy New Year,” I call out but am met with a few meager grunts.
Both Lizbeth and Tad are at the table. Lizbeth is feeding Misty while Tad ignores the entire population by burying his head in a newspaper. Brielle is huddled with Skyla, each with a baby on their lap, and a dark-haired girl keeps her head bowed while looking at her laptop.
Skyla glances back, and her eyes light up the room. Skyla’s eyes have a way of making the reality around you feel like a lie. I would have sworn there was enough light in this room until she looked this way and flooded the house with the brightness of two suns. “Your mother did this.” She glances at the dark-haired girl. “Make sure you get two. I don’t want the boys sharing any more germs than they have to.”
The boys are red-faced and squirming, choking as they struggle to cry, and my heart shreds to pieces knowing they’re not feeling well. Tiny mucus bubbles ooze from their nostrils, and Bree periodically suctions it out with a blue nasal aspirator.
“Come here.” I scoop Barron from her and hold him close as he swipes at my face a few good times as if trying to slap me. He just might be. I wouldn’t blame him if he were. I’ve been thinking of doing the same thing to myself lately.
The dark-haired girl looks up, and it’s Chloe. For a moment I’m stunned into submission—not sure why. Chloe is suddenly Skyla’s new shadow. I don’t see why I shouldn’t expect to see her at the Landon house.
“Stellar start to the new year, Oliver.” She shakes her head as if she were just as pissed at me as Skyla. “I’ll order three since it’s on the Oliver dime. Nothing but the best for your boys, Skyla.”
Skyla looks up and nods as if answering every errant question misfiring in my mind. “I always thought I had the best.”
Bree takes Nathan from her and starts in on a manic rocking session. “Make sure to get the Snotty Totty. It’s the only sure-fire way you’ll ever get some sleep again.”
“He’s sleeping just fine,” Skyla quips as she glances my way.
Lizbeth swoops over. “She means you, Skyla.” She leans in toward Chloe’s laptop. “Believe me, those are the best tools of the trade. And they’re so easy to use!” She turns to me and shakes her head. “You just plug the tip into the boys’ nostrils and gently suction all of the mucus right on out!” She snaps her fingers as if to exemplify its ease of use.
“Isn’t that what Bree was just doing?” I want nothing but the best for my boys just as much as—apparently Chloe does, but I’m also far more wary of falling into the consumer trap set out by the baby industry. Half that stuff we’ve got just seems like an overpriced rip-off. I lean in to get a look
at the price tag on one of those fancy nose pumps. $49.99.
Shit. I hope this isn’t Skyla trying to stick it to me by way of my credit card. And, judging by the boys, somehow, I doubt that.
“Oh, heavens no!” Lizbeth snatches the nasal aspirator right out of Brielle’s hand as if she were taking a loaded gun from her. “This is garbage is what it is. The Snotty Totty comes with a hose that you plug into their nostrils. You plug the other end right into your mouth, young man.” She taps her finger over my lips, and I’m suddenly uncomfortable on many levels.
“So you physically suction the—junk out.” I’m afraid I know where my services will be needed in just a few hours.
Skyla gives an annoyed blink my way. “I’m sure you’ll have fun. You seem to have a habit of imbibing questionable fluids at midnight.”
Lizbeth swats her over the shoulder. “We won’t dare wait that long. These boys need relief now. Chloe, make sure you opt for one-hour shipping.”
Mia takes a seat on the coffee table. “When are you cutting his head off, Skyla?”
“He needs his head for now.” Skyla manufactures a sweet smile my way. “But soon.”
Mia gets up to leave but not before outright gifting me the finger. Shit. I can’t help but avert my eyes at that one.
“Skyla, I need to speak with you.”
Lizbeth nods over to Bree. “Why don’t we get the boys in their swings. They’ve been up all night. They can use some sleep.”
I wait until they’re out of earshot before sitting on the coffee table across from Skyla and Chloe. I can’t help but look from my sweet angel of a wife to the witch by her side and think she’s in way over her head.
“What the hell is going on?” I growl it out far more aggressive than I meant to, but with Chloe around I can’t seem to help it.
Skyla sharpens her gaze over mine as if she were ready to ax my skull in two. “The Tenebrous Woods are empty. Your father and brother swiped every petrified Viden soul right out of there and planted them worldwide to cause a mass panic, or don’t you pay attention to the news?”
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