Crown of Ashes

by Addison Moore

  “Oh joy.” Skyla looks up at me.

  “And, dude”—Drake nails me in the arm with his fist—“you get to plan my last night of freedom.”

  I glance to Skyla, and we share a quiet smile. “Drake, I’m really flattered, but shouldn’t you ask Ethan to fill these big shoes? I’m down if he’s out—but he is your brother.”

  “Oh shit.” He ticks his head back a notch with a stumped look on his face. “I’d better ask. I’d hate to piss the dude off.” He struts off toward Ethan’s room and barrels on in without knocking. “Dude, get off that chick—we’ve got a wedding to plan.”

  Great. I put a half-hearted effort into covering Nathan’s eyes. “Maybe we should take off for a bit?” Like forever, I want to add, but I’m betting the boys are better off with the nutcases that run this asylum than in a house full of corpses—although at this point it’s debatable.

  “I agree.” Skyla gives Bree a quick hug. “Congrats. Let’s get together soon. Between your upcoming nuptials and Ezrina’s new baby, we’re going to have a busy year.”

  “Don’t forget these boys.” I jostle Nathan between the two of us, and he reaches out and grabs ahold of his brother’s hand. “It’s a whole year of firsts for these little guys.”

  “That’s right.” Bree gives Nathan’s nose a quick thump. “First smile, first laugh, first kiss—heck, these boys even got a little pussy this year.”

  “And that’s the last time we’re going to mention it.” I twist Nathan out of her reach. “Skyla, let’s get out of here.”

  “It couldn’t be fast enough.”

  Or long enough.

  Skyla and I load the boys into the minivan and drive down the long gray tongue of the island with no real rhyme or reason other than getting as far away as possible from the lunacy the Landon house has to offer. I’d take her to Whitehorse, but a part of me doesn’t want to see Logan just yet. I’d take her to my house, but I know Skyla isn’t up for seeing my mother. Our own home is ironically off the short list since it’s temporarily doubling as a glorified holding tank for the cemetery castoffs. And, of course, there’s Dudley’s, and well—Dudley is there. But there is one place.

  “How about Rockaway?” she asks as if reading my mind, and the thought sets me slightly on edge.

  “Rockaway it is. Home sweet home.” The turnoff comes up next, and I take it. Soon the evergreens give way to ebony-colored sand, the hard line of navy waters just beyond its borders. “This feels like home to me.”

  “Too bad we couldn’t live in that hut you built. I think we’d need to add on a nursery if we did.”

  I glance in the rearview mirror to find the boys both fast asleep—a miracle in and of itself.

  “Looks like the boys aren’t too interested in visiting the hut just yet.”

  A light sprinkle sizzles over the windshield as I pull in as close to the sand as possible.

  “Hut or no hut, this is perfect.” Skyla takes up my hand as we watch the waves crashing over themselves, white with anger as they roar their fury onto shore. “This is where you asked me to marry you.” She bites down hard on her lip. “This has always been our place, hasn’t it?”

  “It’s a beautiful place—a perfect place to call our own.” I pull her hand forward and kiss my grandmother’s ring still firmly on her finger. During this entire nightmare, Skyla always had it on, and that alone gave me all the hope I needed.

  “I couldn’t do it.” Her eyes look to the ring as she holds it between us. “I tried, but I didn’t have it in me to take it off. I thought we were over, but I guess my heart knew otherwise.” Her fingers graze through the scruff on my chin a moment.

  “I saw that stone last night.” My throat tightens as I struggle to get the words out. That stone Candace sent down—all but threw at my head last December comes to mind. She said it had my number on it, the exact remainder of my time here on the planet. “It was on the bookshelf, but I couldn’t help but think it was mocking me.”

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I swear, I would flush the thing down the toilet if I could. In fact, we should go back and get it right now and pitch it into the sea.”

  “No.” A tired laugh stumps through me. “I swear, it’s fine. It’s just—I thought maybe we should talk about it. Seven—the number.” Our eyes lock, and a shiver runs through me at the thought of verbalizing anything that demonic stone had to say. It feels as if I’ve unleashed a celestial dragon, and in an irony too big to wrap my head around, I am in fact that horrific serpent.

  Skyla takes a ragged breath at the idea of what that number might mean.

  I bring her hand to my lips and press in a kiss. “We’ve passed up seconds, minutes, hours, weeks, so I guess we’ll know in July if it’s months, and if not, it must be years.”

  “Decades,” she’s quick to counter. “It will be decades. My mother knows how much you mean to the boys and me.”

  “Decades.” I press my head back into the seat and try to digest it. There’s no way Candace would gift me a blessing that big, and seven more decades with Skyla as my wife would be exactly that, a blessing.

  She shakes her head with tears wobbling, threating to tumble forth into the world, but she’s slow to let them fall. “Let’s move on. I hate that stone. I hate a lot of things.” She swallows hard. “Why did you do it—the covenant with Demetri? I’m ready to listen.” Skyla holds my gaze, heavy as the sea, as angry as those sooted clouds darkening the skies.

  I glance back to the boys one last time. Still sound asleep. In a way, this is the perfect moment to bare my soul with all parties present and accounted for. The rain pounds over the windshield and the air in the van sours.

  “You know that I love you”—my voice hitches as I force my gaze to seal over hers—“that I would do anything for the boys. When I broke faith with the Barricade, the penalty was that someone I hold dear would take my place in my father’s wicked world.” My eyes flit to the raging sea for a moment, the whitewash beating the shore. I feel that much rage and more at the thought of Demetri’s wicked world. “At the time, I couldn’t imagine who that would be—so I agreed.” My eyes close, and I’m transported right back to the stone of sacrifice where Demetri set my universe on fire. “The night the boys were born I don’t know who or what detained me, but I tried to move heaven and hell to get to you, Skyla. God, I did.” My head taps against the seat as tears come to the party, and I sniff them back. “When I held Barron—I heard him.” My voice breaks as I burst through this dam of emotions. “I heard him as if he were in the room with me.”

  “Heard who, Gage?” Her voice quivers, and she leans in close. Skyla slides over and squeezes onto my lap. Her cool hands clasp over my face. “Who?”

  “Demetri.” It’s as if I’m back there, in that room, holding my precious son for the very first time. “It was Barron he was after.” My face falls into my hand, and I pinch my eyes closed, trying my hardest to get a grip, to stop crying like a pussy and take it like a man. “I knew then what I had to do, Skyla. I needed to take his place. Demetri can have me—but he can’t have my boys.”

  Tears sit frozen in her eyes, unable to fall, paralyzed by the truth. “Gage.” My name expires from her lungs like the hiss of a train pulling from the station, and in a way it is. The definition of who we are has long since left the platform. We have derailed, left the world as we once knew it. In truth, I had left back in November. It’s just now Skyla is joining me on this runaway train to hell. “You are my hero.” Her voice is hoarse, a mere whisper, an idea of what it could be. “I’m sorry about the pain I’ve caused, the hurt.”

  “No.” My finger lands over her lips, harder than I meant for it to, but the idea of Skyla apologizing to me is sacrilegious. It is also the very last thing in the world I want. “You had every right. I wanted to tell you.” A watershed of tears warm my face. “But I didn’t want Demetri’s madness to ruin those precious first moments we had with the boys. He gave me an ultimatum. I had to commit the night of the christenin
g or the deal was off the table.” Our eyes lock, our shared anger fuses in a stream of unification. “And that’s what you saw that night.” My voice shakes with rage at what’s become of me. “As much as I want to blame myself for getting in the mess to begin with”—I shake my head at the idea—“I’m certain he would have found another way. It just so happens that I made it easy for him.”

  “Then we’ll make it hard.” She grips my hands and holds them between us. “This is the springtime of our rebellion.”

  “There is no rebellion for me, Skyla. I’ve accepted my fate. You are looking at the face of your enemy. I can fight it, but it will be tough. Then slowly as time goes on, my heart, my ideals will bend to the will of my father.”

  “And if that happens, I will defeat you,” Skyla says it soft, quiet, with such love in her eyes, it erases any doubt that we could ever truly be enemies. Our love has transcended anything that might bog us down ever again. Even if she grew to despise me, love would still be there like an undercurrent.

  “You are well able.” It’s true. Skyla has the ability, the mental fortitude, and stamina needed to defy any form of evil thrust in her path. In my worst state of being, I would simply be a stump for her to step over on her journey to greatness. I have no doubt about that. “And that is what waits for me.”

  “Don’t buy into it, Gage.” Her lips linger over mine, hot and dripping with our shared tears. “Please, no. You’re strong. Your strength is what gives us hope. Look at you now. You’re here with me. We’re still Gage and Skyla. See? Nothing has changed.”

  “It wouldn’t for now. None of this takes place with me in the natural.” I look into the eyes of my precious wife, the girl I’ve worshiped ever since she was nothing more than a figment of my visions. “The truth is, Skyla—I’m worth more to Demetri dead than I am alive. I am a dead man walking. Expect my death, Skyla.” My thumb wipes the tears from her cheek. “It will be upon us soon.”

  Logan

  Last night I dreamed of a hostile future. I dreamed of myself in another form, a wiser, far more experienced version that had come down from paradise to offer a helping hand in what will be the greatest plight of my young deceased and perhaps even resurrected life. I dreamed of Gage in that desolate, cavernous plane, Paragon in Nocturne. Gage seated firmly on his throne of fire with his beastly skin, and unknowable wicked eyes. In no way did he remotely resemble the boy I grew up with. That burnt thick skin with its glassy scales, the mile-long tongue that whips about in flames. This future version of the two of us fascinates me, and I watch in horror—in a sad act of faraway admiration—everything in between. Greatness, no matter how wicked, has the power to instill a certain awe in people, and Gage in all of his monstrous glory is no different. I am in awe of his wicked majesty.

  “How will you fix this?” the version of myself that stepped down from paradise asks.

  “I don’t know.” I give him the same answer each and every time. I have had this dream dozens upon dozens of times, and each night it plays out the same.

  He places his strong hand over my shoulder, warm and weighted, as if it alone had the power to assure me everything would somehow be all right. And then just like that, I’m pulled out of the dream by the vacuum of reality. My eyes are always slow to open as I struggle my way back. And I always ask myself the same damn question—what in the hell should I do now?

  I blink to life, and my gaze drifts to the gap in the curtain, exposing a veil of snowy white fog that has already wrapped its arms around the island. Paragon loves to dress herself in its softness. She loves to sand off the rugged edges of reality by dewing herself in the ever-present mist of youth. I wish I could wrap Skyla and Gage in softness, prepare them for the hard fall that inevitably lies ahead. It’s been a week now that he’s told her the truth, and she’s embraced it with the loving kindness I always knew she would.

  Skyla and Gage are working again. And I want that for them. I wish they were working from the start, and I was long since dead, content and buried, staring down at the two of them from paradise above. Although, technically, that’s not true. From that bodily deprived standpoint in the hereafter, you can’t see the world or anything in it. That is a lie, or more accurately, a distortion of the truth that people love to believe. The dead have surrendered their knowledge of this life along with their bodies. The world and all of its inhabitants are under the Master’s watchful eye and that of his Son. It is they that look down. They alone are mindful of what needs to be done. They function as one and the same—the Father and the Son—and it makes me wonder if Gage and his father—Demetri, will too function as one in the same. That is the frightening reality staring us in the face. But my father, my mother, and all of the saints that have passed on, are incapable of solving any single problem for me. God has got this. The last thing He needs is billions of meddling spirits meddling with His universe, trying desperately to right all of the wrongs, desperate to be gods themselves without holding the blueprint of what comes next and where it fits into the grand design. It’s true. If given half a chance, I would have commandeered Skyla and Gage to the happily ever after they need, that some might say they deserve, although, I’m not entirely in that camp. If I’m honest, I’ll admit defeat, but I’ll also admit that I love Skyla too much to ever let her go completely.

  The Smite brothers come to mind with their altruistic outlook on love—Graham in particular. He gave the woman he loved away to his brother like a parting gift, a token of his appreciation. Skyla is far more than a token, than a jewel to hold in my palm and pass along to any of my brothers, and I do include Gage in that number. Nope. I cannot give her away. And in the same vein, I cannot give Gage away either—least of all to Demetri.

  A hard knock comes over the door, and Lexy bursts in with a tray in her hands.

  “Rise and shine, bright eyes! Today is a new day, and you and I have a world to conquer.”

  A dull groan rumbles from me. Lexy Bakova is the last girl on the planet I plan on conquering the world with. Not to mention the fact I tried to do specifically that with Skyla and drove her—scratch that, cemented her in Gage Oliver’s arms—and I, myself, ended up dead in the process.

  Lex sits next to me, depressing my mattress right along with my spirits. I know for a fact her presence annoys the living hell out of Skyla. And I’m not looking for anything sexual with Lex, which is exactly what Lex wants with me, so it’s probably time I gave her the boot.

  “Lex, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Sure.” She bounces over the bed and causes the coffee to crest onto the lip of the mug. “But before I forget, Gage dropped by.”

  “What did he want?” I take the glass of O.J. off the tray and sit up before knocking it back.

  “You. He said he needed to talk. I told him you were sleeping and he took off.” She flips back her copper hair and flashes that insolent smile she’s famous for. “He’s probably looking for a way to deal with Messenger. If you ask me, she’s always been high maintenance. Back at West you would think the world revolved around her the way she was so self-absorbed.”

  “It did,” I offer without a note of enthusiasm. “It still does.” And I mean that. Skyla is the nexus of a superhuman transformation taking place in the nebulous sky. Her mother has whittled the perfect pawn, and Skyla is that chess piece. I happen to be the other, but I’m not getting into any of that with Lex.

  “Anyway, Ezrina has been puking up a storm. Heathcliff has freaked the fuck out, so I took over and made sure she got to bed and gave her all the crackers and soda I could find. Heathcliff says he’ll gift me free food at the Gas Lab for a year!” She squawks at the idea. “I’m in. Let me tell you, life is expensive. I knew it would be rough after high school, but I didn’t realize how hard money would be to come by. Good thing I’ve got you to help me out. My parents aren’t into fostering my need for cash anymore. If I didn’t have this place, I’d be out on my rear, or worse yet, rooming with Michelle over at Host.”

&
nbsp; “You should probably finish your education,” I offer that bit of fatherly advice as I dig into the thickly syruped pancakes she’s made fresh for me. It’s a breakfast she’s made sure I’ve grown accustomed to, but I’d hate to break it to Lex, I’d be just as satisfied with a glass of water.

  “Of course, I’m still taking online classes, but I could only get one this semester.” She leans in and runs her fingers through my hair, those copper eyes of hers glint like pennies. “That’s the thing I appreciate most about you, Logan. You really seem to care about me. All my life I’ve had to live around cold-hearted people, and I think most of all it’s your warmth I’m drawn to. Now what was it that you wanted to discuss?” She blinks up at me with those doe eyes, and I don’t have the heart to knife her heart out.

  “There’s a Faction meeting in a few hours. You should probably plan on going.”

  “As your date? Logan Oliver, you never need to ask.” She leans in and pecks a kiss on my cheek, and before I know it she’s snapped a picture of the event as well.

  Crap.

  “See you in a bit!” She bubbles her way out of the room.

  I don’t need a date to the Faction meeting. Nobody does. Holy hell, Lexy Bakova has taken over like a fungus.

  “I brought a date to the meeting.” Skyla gives a gritty laugh, and I can’t help but frown at the irony. “Two dates actually.” Gage comes up behind her holding each of the boys.

  “What’s up, little dudes?” I land a quick kiss to each of their downy soft cheeks, and they both smile and squirm for me so I take the one closest. “Who’s this?”

  “Barron.” Skyla laughs while taking Nathan from Gage. “I’d better get up there.” She nods toward the table set up in the front of Nicholas Haver’s enormous old barn. Rows and rows of chairs are set out encompassing the lone table up front where Skyla will conduct the meeting from, and usually there are more than enough seats, but tonight it’s standing room only. Skyla invited everyone from the old Walsh house, her home to be exact, to partake in the festivities. Not that there will be any festivities, tonight we discuss the grim business of getting the dead into the government’s hands.