“Skyla.” Ezrina closes her eyes. “The Kraggers will sideline everything. And Arson? He is the worst of them all.”
Nev gives a solemn nod. “You’re about to see your plan unravel before the dead get to pay their dues.” It’s clear Holden has already spilled the resurrected beans.
“That may be.” A sly smile plays on my lips as I watch the fog absorb the three of them from the window. “But, trust me, I’ve got this. There is no way this is backfiring. It’s a done deal no matter how hard Arson or Wesley tries to foil this endeavor. Besides—the three of them? That’s just the tip of the Paragon cemetery iceberg. Maybe it’s time Wes and his deconstruction crew were in on my plan for a change—one in which they are impotent to do anything about.” How’s that for a role reversal?
The boys begin to make their verbal presence known, and Marshall calls my name as if his voice box had magically transformed into a megaphone.
“The babes!” Ezrina makes a beeline for the back, and Nev and I join her. Before I can inquire about anything that might help solve the mystery surrounding my hatchet-wielding friend, she lifts Barron into Nevermore’s arms and takes Nathan for herself. The boys coo and gaze up at the new friendly faces, their eyes mesmerized, tiny giggles breaking out at random.
“They’re laughing.” It fills me with joy to have two tiny dimpled bundles who love to chat and smile. It’s a simple world I’ve quickly gotten used to. Yes, there is no sleep in this world, but I’ve discovered that with every good thing there is a little hell to pay. And sadly, that perfectly describes my marriage to Gage.
Ezrina and Nev step away while rocking and amusing the boys with silly faces and sounds.
“Skyla.” Marshall glowers over at me as if I’ve wrung out a dirty diaper in his coffee.
“Oh, stop. You know I had to do something. Besides, it was my insane mother who—” The entire building trembles with thunder. “Okay, so it was my idea, but she totally egged me on until I came up with every last dead and dirty detail. But trust me, it’s a good thing. The government needs bodies. Supernatural bodies,” I whisper so low it’s hardly audible, but I’d swear on my life ten people just turned around to gawk. “And my boys will never play the part of guinea pig as long as I have breath in my body.”
He grunts as he looks up at the angelic beings. “And your stepfather is looking forward to this, I imagine? Three guests? I suppose you’ll cram them in your bedroom as well.” He takes a sip of his coffee with the satisfied self-righteous grin blooming on his face.
“Heavens no.” I shake my head as I slip into the seat across from him. “There will be far more than three.” I reach over and pick up his hand in an effort to appeal to the most primal part of him, and that vibrating goodness strums through my bones, appealing to the most primal part of me. “There will be many—there will be legions. And I’ll need them all to stay with you.”
“No,” he says it so fast, without a hint of hesitation, it fills me with an indignant rage.
“What do you mean, no? What am I going to do with all of these reanimated corpses?” Hopefully, there will be hundreds, thousands even.
“I mean no, Skyla. Find somewhere else to play your graveyard games. My estate is off-limits.”
“But you love to entertain the dead. Think of Marlena and her call girl friends. How is this any different?” Marshall seems to host a hoedown whoredown just about every other day with those seventeenth-century hussies.
“It just is.”
He pulls his laptop forward and begins nonchalantly inputting something.
“What are you doing?” I try to peer over at the screen, but he inches it away.
“Calculating how long it will take you to figure out what to do with the dead.”
“No, you’re not.” I lean in farther. It’s a list of some sort.
“Fine.” He snaps the laptop closed just inches from clipping my nose. “Your mother and I are planning an extravagant first birthday party for the little goats.”
“The little goats? Marshall, they’re not even three months old!”
“Your mother—”
“Never mind. I know my mother.” A moment bounces by where it’s just Marshall and me, this heavenly handsome as all hell being with those cutting maroon eyes and a sly smile that screams the better to eat you with. Marshall was there for the birth of the boys, and now he’s planning their first birthday party. For some reason, the fact he was embroiled in the event that involves the two pieces of my heart floating around on the planet makes him vexingly sexy on a dangerous level. “So”—I clear my throat—“can I use your home? Just one room. Trust me, they’re used to tight confined spaces. A whole room will feel like the Taj.”
“You have a home, Skyla. House them there.”
“The Landon estate?” A laugh gets caught in my throat. “If I do that, you can add Tad to the number of corpses.”
Marshall frowns and nods west.
Wait—what’s west? West, west? As in West Paragon High? No, they have enough zombified bodies wandering around campus. The only thing past that is the estates where—
I suck in a quick breath. “The old Walsh home?”
He forces his lips to curl in a nefarious grin. “I believe it is the new Oliver home. Yes, Skyla. You yourself have referred to the hovel as a haunted house. And now you can have all the ghosts you wish to fill it.”
“Very funny.” The old Walsh home, my home, is a death trap at the moment. I’m pretty sure it’s not safe to house corpses in—resurrected or not.
I think on this for a minute. God, what do I say? I’ve never needed Marshall’s full support on this level before. That horrid surprise spirit wedding that took place years ago crosses my mind.
“Lest I remind you that I let you marry me.” I blink up at him in a weak attempt to seduce him toward my line of thinking.
He glances up, almost bored with the fact—not the slightest bemusement on his part. It wasn’t so much that I let him marry me than the fact I was sort of ambushed and it happened to me.
“Okay, so I didn’t really let you marry me, but I totally would have if I had my better judgment about me. Good thing you stepped in when you did. Shall we have Demetri throw us a vow renewal in the Transfer? There’s nothing like a bunch of disembodied spirits to make it feel official.” I should know. I did the very same thing last September with Gage.
He folds his arms, his affect unflinching. “A party for the ages—at the devil’s house no less. My, Skyla, you do dream big, don’t you?”
“I dream of you.” It comes out wistful and for good reason. Marshall has been haunting my dreams—or more accurately, my subconscious has been haunting my dreams with Marshall. And, mind you, these are not your average nocturnal wanderings. These are sultry, erotic, panty-melting, grip-the-sheets sex-rated dreams. Nothing at all the stuff that should be filling the head of a very married woman. But, honest to God, there’s no getting off this sexual merry-go-round. The more I try to fight them, the harder—pun intended—they seem to come.
My lips purse for a moment as I reflect on Gage and how hurtful it must be knowing this goes on each and every night. He figured it out a long time ago and has never held it against me. If Gage were having nonstop porn dreams about Kresley, I would have hung him by his oversized balls by now.
“My”—a dark laugh strums from Marshall—“that took you away to a special place.”
A light tap falls on my shoulder, and I look up to find Laken hovering above me. “Speaking of special places. Fancy seeing you here.”
“Laken!” I jump up and give her a strong hug. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you. And my God! Look how big these boys are! It’s only been a few weeks since we saw you at the bowling alley and they’ve already doubled in size.” She holds her arms out as Nev hands Barron over.
“What’s up?” Cooper comes from behind. “You ready for another Retribution League sit-down?”
“You read my mind. I’ll schedule it soo
n. You won’t believe the ace that just crawled up our sleeve.”
Laken and Coop exchange a quick look.
“Don’t worry. This is going to be brilliant.” Nathan starts to fuss and I try to take him from Ezrina, but she spins on her heels.
“Mine.” She presses a kiss to the top of his head and evokes a bubbling laugh from him.
“Ezrina,” I cry in awe at my happy baby boy.
Laken bounces Barron a few feet away over to where Ezrina is holding Nathan hostage, and I steal the opportunity to have a quick one-on-one with Coop.
I lean in and whisper, “Have you kicked Wesley’s ass yet for stealing your wife’s virginity?” I give a single nod because I’d love for it to be true more than anything.
Coop gives a quick shake of the head as Laken and Ezrina bounce back in this direction.
Laken rubs her cheek over Barron’s feather soft hair. “You’re so lucky you get to love on these two little cuddle bunnies all day and all night.”
“Don’t I know it. But soon enough, you’ll have an entire fleet of mini-Coopers to love and cuddle all day and night. And I do mean all night. It turns out cuddle bunnies are in extreme opposition to getting any sleep.”
Laken and Coop share a laugh—Coop’s being the loudest and longest.
“We’ll see what happens in the future. We both applied to grad school.” He shoots a look to Ezrina and Nev. “How about you two? Any kids in your future? I know you’re both busy, but, like my mother says, don’t wait for the perfect time.”
Sounds like Coop’s mama is gunning for a mini-Cooper just as much as I am. I’d love for Laken to have kids close in age with the boys.
Ezrina and Nev grow quiet with Nev suddenly craning his neck toward the kitchen and Ezrina tossing up a hand in defeat.
“It’s happened.” Her voice cracks. “I’m with child.”
A collective gasp comes from our little group. Marshall jumps to his feet before I can congratulate either of them and bows toward the mother-to-be.
“Well done, Rina.” He picks up her hand and lands a gentle kiss to the back. “How ardent, how ruddy your cheeks. I should dare say you look resplendent with child.”
My jaw goes slack a moment. I don’t remember a single ardent, ruby, or resplendent compliment while I was expecting. But, truthfully, I looked like a pile of diarrhea on fire, so I can’t really blame him. Marshall does staunchly believe in telling the truth.
“Ezrina!” Laken and I lunge over her at the same time. “This is amazing,” I pant. “You and Nev will be parents. How beautiful is that?”
“Yes.” She pulls back with her hand on her stomach, and I can’t help but think she looks forlorn. “Chloe’s child, too.”
“Oh no.” I try to pull her out of that Bishop stupor. “This will be yours through and through.”
“I’ve come to peace with it.” She lifts a hand. “Just like I came to peace with it when Tobie was born.”
I never thought of it that way. Chloe had Tobie while in Ezrina’s body. So, yes, that child is genetically Ezrina’s. No wonder she went running with bells on the minute Wesley hired her as a nanny. It was her own baby she was looking after. I’ll make it a point to bring Tobie around more often. I think Ezrina would appreciate that.
“Ezrina.” Laken pulls her in for a quick hug, but Ezrina yanks free with a wild look in her eyes that I haven’t seen since she and I were on opposite ends of the fighting arena.
“I have to go.” She lands the baby back in my arms and takes off for the kitchen.
A strangulating awkwardness permeates our small group.
I look to Nev. “What was that about?” My heart thumps wild because Ezrina isn’t known for acting erratic—at least not anymore.
Nev glances to Laken, his cheeks flushing with color. “I’m afraid her temperament as of late has yet to adjust to the needs of creating new life.” He nods toward the floor as if he had just spilled an honest truth. “If you’ll excuse me.” He gives a slight bow and starts toward the kitchen, but I cut him off and pull him to the side.
“Nev, you know something. I can see it in your eyes.” Nevermore may have only been mine in raven form for a short while, but I’d like to think we’ve gotten to know one another beyond the borders of the flesh. “Tell me what it is. Shed light on this mystery for me.” My mother said that something was up with Ezrina, and I highly doubt it had to do with that baby brewing in her belly.
“Skyla—” He cranes his neck past me trying to get a better look at Ezrina who has long since disappeared into the bowels of the kitchen. “I’m afraid this isn’t my matter.” He closes his eyes a moment. You can see the fear, the disappointment pulsating through his surface veins. “Now let me comfort my wife.”
“I’m here for you, Nev. I know that something is afoot with Ezrina. My mother warned me.”
“Your mother!” Nevermore blanches with fear at the mention of her. She’s the one who put him in the raven’s body and the same one who took him right back out again. Needless to say, she can produce quite the reversal of feathered fortune if need be.
“Wait, Nev!” I call after him, but he’s long gone. Nathan pulls at my hair and bubbles with a laugh as he looks lovingly into my eyes. “Oh my God,” I whisper, the panic quickly draining from me. “You make everything better.” I gift him a little kiss to the forehead.
Laken steps forward, a stern look on her face. “What was that about?”
Marshall and Cooper close in our circle as the three of them await an answer.
“Ezrina is up to something.” I glance back at the kitchen. “And it’s not that bun she’s got in the oven.”
“Knew it.” Coop digs his hands into his pockets as he gazes past me. “I went down last week to speak with her, and she ushered me out of the lab so fast you would think it were on fire.”
Ezrina comes out once again and gets straight to helping a customer out. Marshall pins her with a look, and I can tell by the way his eyes do that sexy little squint that he’s engaging with her somehow.
“What is it?” I’m breathless at the prospect. Ezrina is a wild card. There is so much good she can do for our people, but one misstep could cost us everything.
Marshall lets out a hard breath as he continues to glower at her. “Rina.” Her name bleeds from his lips with the utmost disappointment. Whatever it is, Marshall has just been apprised, and judging by his response, he’s not that thrilled with her either. Both my mother and Marshall are disappointed in her? Strikes one and two. I’m betting strike three will be me as soon as I get wind of whatever it is she’s cooking up.
Before I can shake the answer out of him, the door to the Gas Lab bursts open and a rather odd entourage steps in. Melody Winters and a young man around her age are both decked out as if they were headed to a Halloween party. She’s dressed like one of Marshall’s old-world hussies with a long frilly black and pink dress, low-cut in the front—on both top and bottom—and a bustle in the back that makes her ass look as if it’s better suited for a donkey. And he’s wearing—God, he’s dressed like those long-deceased souls in the Transfer. An old-world suit with a string for a tie. So odd.
The ring on my finger begins to glow like a moonbeam, and I clamp my hand over it in the event it decides to cause a neon scene. But it’s too late. Melody and her old-world cohort speed on over.
“What’s this?” She flicks her finger over my hand—over the glowing morsel of the King’s throne itself, and her jaw goes slack. “Well, well, Sector Marshall. It looks as if we have a time traveling thief on our hands.”
Gage
Whitehorse wafts in and out of the fog like a dream, like a nightmare. Logan purchased this plot of land in Silent Cove a few years back and built this—some might say monstrosity, some might say tender gesture for his future wife—my wife.
The wind picks up, bites its way through my jacket as I make my way up the clean white porch. I can’t help but note the verse arched above the doorway, I love you more than th
e heavens love the sun and the moon. He does. Logan loves Skyla exactly that much and more, and even though it sets off an inner rage in me, I understand it. Skyla is the kind of woman that leaves you breathless and wanting more. And as much as I want to, I can’t forget the fact it was Logan she wanted first. The love we share might have blossomed from our friendship, but there’s not a thing in me that believes what we share today isn’t real.
A dry laugh strums through me. Skyla hasn’t spoken more than a few words to me in months. The only reason we still share a bed on occasion is because we’re both exhausted from taking care of the boys. Our lips, our bodies have been virtual strangers to one another ever since I pledged allegiance to the dark side.
The doorknob gives in my hand, and I step in without bothering to knock. “Yo!” I bark and a tiny female frame startles on the sofa—dark copper hair cut above her shoulders, that permanent scowl on her face. It’s Lex.
“Is that what you do in your spare time, Gage Oliver? Barge into other people’s homes without knocking?” Lexy Bakova spikes up on the sofa, pulling a blanket up to her chin and turning the volume down on the television. “Logan!” she shouts, clearly annoyed by my presence. “Gage is here!”
“What brings you here?” I’ll admit, I’m slightly amused at the size of Lexy’s balls. Logan has made it known to her more times than I can count that he’s not interested, and she relentlessly continues to knit herself into his life. A shallow part of me is cheering her on, but I know Logan better than I know myself—lately that sentiment is true to a fault—Logan doesn’t want Lexy—not in that way. He’s not interested in some close second to Skyla, not that there is one. He wants Skyla and only Skyla. Can’t blame him. I feel the same.
“What brings you here?” She cranes her neck past me as if she needed me to move so she can see that goliath screen. Logan’s television takes up the wall, something that one might think screams my financial dick is bigger than yours, but in Logan’s case, he just wants to feel like he’s at the game. We spent our lives in worship of college football up until Skyla showed up, and ever since we’ve spent the remainder of our time worshiping her.
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