Crown of Ashes

by Addison Moore

  “Well, if they’re not in a cage, they’re free and God knows the feds aren’t about to offer burger incentives to a flock of birds…they’d have to be”—dear God, she’s a genius—“human.”

  She tips her head back a moment and glares down at me with those lucent blue eyes. “Are the feds interested in humans, Skyla? Dear heavens, not even your own daughter is interested in that.”

  I place the boys back in their shared bassinet and head over to where Holden and Serena jump nervously from desk to desk.

  “They can’t be human or Nephilim—unless…” I land my hand gently over Serena’s back. “They’ll have to be reverted back to their original Nephilim state.”

  “And then what?”

  “They’ll get arrested,” I flatline as the pure genius of it all hits home. “I really like where this is headed.” Holden lets out a riotous scream as if protesting the idea. “But I’m afraid Wesley has the feds believing there’s an entire infantry out there. I’m not sure the government would be satisfied with just two poor souls.” I thump Holden over the head myself.

  “Too bad there’s not a way to give them more.” She picks up my hand and fondles the ring Chloe gave me.

  “I guess there’s Emerson, but that could realistically only be the start. I’d need to resurrect half the cemetery to appease the government.” The cemetery… “The cemetery?” I look to my mother as the epiphany hits.

  “The cemetery would provide a healthy supply of specialty forces.” She shakes her head as if this were both wonderful and unfortunate.

  Of course, it’s unfortunate. Death isn’t exactly a sought-after attribute in this scenario. My mind flexes in a sea of possibilities—all of them ironically impossible at the moment.

  “Specialty forces... This is a time of war. Just about all things are permissible during wartime.” I think on this a moment. “But if I could resurrect the dead, I’d want Sage brought back first.”

  “I see where your daughter gets her demanding demeanor.” She scoffs and flicks her finger in the air just the way I do. It’s funny how you think something is your own—an inflection, a mannerism—then you see your parents do it, and you realize that not only are you a physical carbon copy, but your mannerisms, perhaps even your nefarious thought process is not truly your own. “No. The specialty forces will be subject to government testing, and I can’t have that done to my special little angel.”

  Holden and Serena start in on a squawking spree and do their best to squeeze themselves right out the window.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” I close that tiny air gap before they can squeeze through it. “Go ahead, Mother. Work that holy and right magic on the two of them.” I hold up a finger in thought. “Only—they can’t stay here. And what’s to stop them from running?”

  “They’ll be bound.” She cups her palm over Serena’s back, and the delicate bird shudders. “They’ll also be willing.” She twists both birds around by the tail, jackknifing them until they face her. “Do you, Serena Taylor and Holden Kragger, accept the task of becoming human for a time to do a good work for the Celestra people?”

  “Sounds like a wedding ceremony,” I whisper.

  “It is a covenant.” My mother raises her brows. I’ve always marveled at her sharp hook-shaped brows. Honestly, they’re the stuff that Disney villains are made of.

  My mother chuckles as Holden and Serena take a moment to coo between themselves. Really? What’s there to consider? Burgers or worms. It’s not a hard decision.

  “What are you laughing at?” I nudge my mother in the arm.

  “You. Admiring my Disney villain brows.” She arches one my way with all of the drama she can afford. “Have you looked in the mirror lately—oh Skyla the Springtime Villainess?”

  “Right.” I glance back at my reflection, and sure enough, there she is, my very own villain staring back at me. “Never mind. The cemetery it is. When can we wake the dead? I’m sure the Olivers are going to love this. As in not. If I’ve ever given Emma a reason to hate me, I have a feeling digging up the graveyard that keeps her financial gravy train running is really going to piss her off.”

  “I’m not concerned with Emma, and you shouldn’t be either. What you should concern yourself with is her son—your husband. You do realize the fact freezing him out isn’t going to make things better any time soon. It’s only going to cast a divide amongst you.”

  “Are you aware of what he’s done?”

  “Yes. And are you aware of the fact that marriages are built on compromises?”

  “A compromise of this magnitude does not a happy marriage make. It makes life a living hell.” Perhaps quite literally.

  Holden and Serena’s squawking hits an all-time high and both my mother and I hiss at them to keep it down. The boys are happily cooing away, and I’d like to keep it that way.

  “Happy marriage?” My mother looks stumped by the concept. “Skyla, there hasn’t been one of those in all of human history. Every union bears its strife. If anything, an unhappy marriage is a common lot in life. Show me a couple who espouses a happy façade and I will show you a couple of bald-faced liars.”

  “Oh, come on. Gage and I were plenty happy before things went to shit. Pardon my French once again.” My mother loathes my salty sailor talk just as much as Marshall seems to.

  Her hair glows a bright iridescent pink before defusing as if the expletive had the power to initiate a celestial riot in her.

  “Were you happy?” She gives a few rapid blinks my way as if I were trying her patience, and I have no doubt I am. “Or were you striving to be so? When have you had a moment’s peace, Skyla?”

  “Before Dad died.” I didn’t even have to think about that one. “Ever since I set foot on Paragon—not to get literary on you, but it’s been the best of times and the worst of times.”

  “That’s the burden of life, my love. Everyone has their cross to bear. It just so happens that yours consists of the wings of a thousand Nephilim. Do rectify things with Gage. It hurts the Father to see such strife. He is a proponent of maintaining earthly covenants.” A wicked grin curves her lips. “But try as you might, that matrimonial good time isn’t allowed anywhere near the afterlife. Resurrection will be bliss, I tell you. Not a single leash to bind you.” She gives a wistful shake of the head. “As for upturning the cemetery, don’t worry about ruffling Emma’s celestial feathers. And as for your husband, I may be advocating your reunion, but I am far from pleased with him.”

  “Was this—wasn’t this—um—could this have been—” No matter how hard I try, I can’t formulate the words to ask the question. Most likely because I hate the question.

  “Was it his destiny?” Her brows arch clear up to her forehead, an Olympian-worthy feat if you ask me.

  A slow nod is all I can offer.

  “Skyla.” She closes her eyes as she draws me close. I cannot remember too many times that my mother has held me this way, at least not post those three months on earth where she was my primary caretaker, and I recall nothing of those. But this moment, her warmth, that vibration she exudes, which is something far sweeter than what Marshall is capable of, I could sleep well in my mother’s arms. “Destiny is a finicky thing. It’s only as stable as the obedience of its recipient.”

  “Obedience.” My personal rebellion comes to mind. “I’m veering from fate.” I pull back to get a better look at what amounts to my reflection. “Gage can veer, too.”

  Holden and Serena squawk up a storm before she can answer.

  “It’s that time.” She smacks them both over the head in turn. “Feathers to feathers, no sins to atone—rise to your feet in flesh and in bone.”

  A billowing fog permeates the room, bitter and blue that dissipates as quick as it came, and in its place, is a fully formed Holden and Serena.

  A heavy breath escapes me as Holden and Serena marvel at their fleshly appendages. He looks every bit as lanky, and mind you Kraggery, with that squared jaw, that dirty blond hair, and those mean-s
pirited eyes—although, at the moment those eyes look pleasantly impressed with his new form. And Serena looks every bit the Nordic goddess her pale feathers would have you believe she was. She’s a beautiful sight to behold. I just hope she’s still enamored with the cranky Kragger next to her.

  “You did it!” I pant as the boys begin to cry. I pick up Nathan, and my mother takes Barron.

  “Of course, I did it.”

  “Thank you, Candace.” Holden falls to his knees. He looks every bit as familiar as the day he was banished into Nevermore’s form. “I beg of you to free my sister, if only for a time.”

  “Only for a time is correct.” She sneers toward Mia and Melissa’s room. “She’s willing.” She lifts a finger, and the faint sound of my sisters’ screaming permeates through the wall.

  “Emerson’s here?” I clutch onto Nathan a little tighter. “Good God! This had better end well.”

  “It does end.” My mother hands off Barron to Serena.

  A horrible thought comes to mind. “What about Giselle? My God, Emma is going to kill me if she discovers I’ve traded her precious daughter in for a Kragger.” I glance to Holden. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” he offers a cheesy wink.

  My mother balks at the idea. “I’ve a temporal home for Emerson. She’s merely a visitor. Precious Giselle is alive and well.”

  Thank goodness. Not that I really fear Emma—but G truly is precious and I’d hate to blink her out of existence on a whim.

  “Now”—my mother clasps her hands while looking to Holden and Serena—“once you’re taken captive by those nasty federal agents, I’ll look into a reversal of your newfound fortune. The three of you are bound to this mission. Enjoy each and every breath through human nostrils while it lasts—it won’t last. And, Skyla, take care of that husband situation.” She addresses my marriage as if it were an oil spill, and she wants me to take care of it? “And mind, Ezrina.” She expels a heavy sigh. “For goodness’ sake, the entire lot of you belongs on leashes.” And just like that, she’s gone.

  “Wait! How do I go about resurrecting the dead?”

  Holden stands and narrows that familiar sinister gaze my way. “Now what, Messenger?”

  “Now what, indeed.”

  Marshall isn’t at home, and, per his usual secretive Sector ways, he isn’t answering his texts. He thinks technology is cute and more of a pest than a reliable source of communication. But, thankfully, Ezrina and Nev don’t feel the same. When I ask Nevermore about Marshall’s whereabouts, not only is the wily Sector at the Gas Lab but so is Ezrina—another hard-to-find extraordinary creature. Technically, she’s Nephilim, always has been, but since she’s taking up occupancy in Chloe’s old body, creature sounds about right.

  So off to the Gas Lab I go with my newfound trio of friends. There’s Emerson—the OG version, which looks more like she can be Giselle’s sister than she can twin. I keep forgetting my mother added the dimples, and Giselle’s bright and cheery affect really does do wonders for a face. But I digress. Not only is a sulking Emerson with me—for God’s sake you’d think she’d be thrilled to be rid of the feathers, but Holden—he’s both seemingly cheery and nice! In his case the feathers really did him a world of good. I’m finally ready to put that whole quasi-sexual assault behind us. And lest not we forget the stunningly beautiful Serena—blonde hair, blue-eyed, pale as winter snow—okay, we’re talking deathly pale on a scary level, but in her dermal defense, she has been stark white raven mad for the last few hundred years. Okay, so it wasn’t that funny. But in addition to that motley crew, I’ve also dragged my precious babies out of the house for this little celestial field trip. The same baby boys who suffered unconscionably for a month, no thanks to Emma and her allergies. Damn lies I tell you, and that woman can spew them. Allergy alibi, my ass.

  I pause a moment and take a rather benign head count of the Kraggers in their newly issued bodies with those old familiar faces, sans Serena, of course, who is so stunning I’m half-afraid someone will haul her off this oversized rock and offer her a modeling contract before she explodes right back into a ball of feathers.

  “Stick close to me.” I search my mind as to what I can possibly do with these former plumes, considering the fact I’ll soon have an entire army of graveyard soldiers at my disposal. “You know, unless something changes, I want the three of you to enjoy your stay on Paragon.”

  Holden shoots up a brow.

  “I mean it,” I’m quick to make it clear. “I kind of feel bad about that whole feathered nightmare. And, honestly, you’ll only be here for a few minutes in the grand scheme of things. Go ahead and have some fun. On me.” I give a crooked smile. The truth is, I don’t want to utilize a single Kragger unless I absolutely have to. The only thing I can rely on them to do is rattle off my secrets to Big Daddy K, and I’m pretty sure no matter how well I threaten them not to, the big blab session is inevitable.

  We head into the Gas Lab like the unruly mob we are, me with a double stroller that Holden actually helped figure out how to get into a locked position—total gentleman! Serena can’t stop cooing over the boys. And really? Who can blame her? My mini Gages are basically a hit with women wherever we go. Wait until she sees the real deal. Just because Gage and I are on the outs doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate his seismic beauty. And obviously and thankfully, when God made him, he didn’t break the mold. He elected to use it at least two more times with our precious boys.

  I spot the sexy Sector near the back, staring into his laptop as if he were just another human sipping the java and checking out cat porn. God, cat porn had better be the only lewd content that extraterrestrial being scopes out on the Internet. I stroll on over, and just as I’m about to do the resurrected intros, I see the crew I was leading has already gone astray.

  “Gah! Marshall, watch the boys for a minute.” I practically dive back to the front where Holden is carrying on a conversation with Nevermore.

  “He’s not Pierce!” I shout so loud half the customers turn to gawk my way. His nametag might read Pierce, but he’s Nevermore, Heathcliff O’Hare through and through.

  Holden sheds a rather relaxed smile. I’m still far from used to this subdued version of the Kragger in question. “I realize that, Skyla. I was just introducing myself and my wife. It’s pretty cool that even though Pierce is gone he sort of lives on. Don’t get me wrong. I’d rather be a bird than dead.”

  Serena giggles at the thought. “I’m sure dead is great, too. But Holden and I sort of consider the feathered life a liberating one. And after seeing the price of a cup of coffee, I’m happier than ever before to roam the earth freely.”

  “Nice.” I think. Honestly, dead probably trumps feathers, but then, she and Holden did have hatchlings last spring. Feathered sex must be amazing. I look to Nev. “Where’s Ezrina?”

  Nev glances back to the kitchen. “It appears she’s entertaining a guest. Here she comes now.”

  Ezrina and Emerson emerge from the back. Double gah!

  Holy shit. I’m going to go gray or bald trying to keep track of Kraggers 2.0.

  “Emerson, this isn’t really—”

  “I got it. She’s not Chloe.” She grunts, looking out at the place. “Who I really want to see is my dad.”

  “No!” I shout so loud I hear Barron choke with a cry. It’s funny how distinctly different their cries are. I’m so thrilled I can finally tell them apart to the point I’m no longer paranoid I’ll mix them up for good and each will grow up as the other. “Your dad thinks—”

  “I know.” She’s quick to wave me off. “My dad loves me, Skyla. Haven’t you ever missed anyone so bad that you need to see them no matter what?”

  Deep down, I knew this was a bad idea. “Once your father gets wind of what you’re doing and for who, it will kill the purpose of the operation.” Would it, though? How could the Counts possibly stop me?

  Ezrina and Nev exchange a glance.

  “I won’t tell.” She shrugs as if it’s as e
asy as that. “Come on, Holden. We’ll walk over.”

  “It’s six miles from here,” he balks at the ambulatory idea.

  “You haven’t used your legs in years.” She’s quick to point out. “You should be glad you have them.”

  Holden frowns as he looks to me. “What say you, Messenger?”

  For one, I’m floored that Holden is actually somewhat tame and obedient. I mull over the catastrophic possibilities—like for instance Wesley piecing together the brilliance of this plan and putting a stop to it. Not to mention the dilemma of the two Emersons. But I can only hope this provides a way to keep Arson on a leash.

  “I say you can visit.” A smile blinks on and off from my lips. “But if your father wants details—swear him to secrecy because if Wesley hears of this, and believe me, I will be appraised of this—it’s back to the feathered pound for the three of you.” It will be regardless. A thought comes to me. “And keep it brief. I’m not sure I want you living with Daddy Dearest. I’ll try to find someplace for you to stay.” I glance to Nev, knowing full well they’ll be shacking up in Arson’s mega hovel in less than five minutes. “Would you mind giving Holden your phone?” Nev is quick to comply. “I’ll text you in a few hours. You’ll be residents elsewhere for the duration of your stay. Remember—you don’t spill a single secret.”

  “No worries, Messenger.” Holden shakes my hand, and the three of them are quick to begin their journey.

  Nev steps in front of me, his eyes dark and menacing. “What are they doing in the flesh, and why have you practically sent them into enemy territory?”

  “They’re here to take one for the team so to speak. The government wants bodies, and we’re about to give them just that.”

  His eyes enlarge. “But how did you do this?” Nev was a bird for so long I’m sure he tried a thousand ways till Sunday to free himself of the feathered binding.

  “My mother.”