Crown of Ashes

by Addison Moore

  “It’s not my fault my husband has a fetish.” She shudders. “Anyway, he’s abandoned the marriage bed. It’s been a couple of weeks since he’s wagged his penis my way. Whoever that chick is, she’s taking the heat for now.”

  Skyla’s eyes fill with rage as she drifts to some unknowable place in her mind. “Go home, Chloe. Keep a close eye on your new best friend, whoever it is that’s warming your husband’s bed. Don’t let her out of your sight. I’ll be down there soon enough to deal with her.”

  “I’ll be joining you.” I let Barron take my finger and squeeze the shit out of it. “And so will Cooper and most likely Laken herself.”

  Chloe gags on a wicked laugh. “In the meantime, I will gather everything you ever needed to know about Wesley’s new little whore.” She gives me the finger before melting into the crowd, and a plume of fog rises to the ceiling as she’s whisked back to the Transfer.

  “Skyla.”

  “Don’t start,” she cuts me off.

  I step in close in clear defiance because a part of me doesn’t care. Skyla is endangering herself, and God knows I’ll do anything to protect Skyla even if it’s from herself. “What else have you promised her?”

  Her eyes meet with mine, and the moment grows serious. Rage pours from her like fumes. “All Chloe has ever wanted is power, Logan. And that’s exactly what I’m going to give her.” She stalks off and meets up with Gage. He’s quick to embrace his wife. Quick to kiss her.

  For the first time ever, it feels as if Skyla needs to be supervised. And I’m volunteering. It’s one thing to have Gage off the rails, but an entirely other to have Skyla skip the tracks.

  One thing is for sure—there is no getting off this crazy train without certain disaster. It’s coming. I can feel the three of us barreling ever so close. It’s going to be big. And something tells me it will be final, too.

  Late the next afternoon, when the sky is pissing out its affection over Paragon like a golden shower, I head down to the Gas Lab where Gage and I are meeting up with Coop.

  Poor Coop. It’s a given he’s going to be pissed—hell, I’m pissed. But Wes is relentless. His obsession with Coop’s wife isn’t going away anytime soon. This latest despicable move is only one in a long line of despicable moves. No sooner do I step inside the Gas Lab than I see both Skyla and Laken talking to Ezrina behind the counter. Ezrina’s belly is showing, a nice clean bump that indicates all things are in order as far as the baby is concerned, at least in outward appearance. I spot Coop and Gage sitting near the back and make a beeline over.

  “What’s up?” I slap both Coop and Gage over the shoulder as I take a seat between them.

  “You’re up.” Coop’s brows knit in a slight V the way mine are prone to do, and I can’t help but smile. More often than not looking at Coop is like looking in a mirror. Which is exactly why what I’m about to divulge feels as much as a sucker punch for me as it will for him. I glance over to Skyla, and she locks eyes with me a moment before saying something to both Ezrina and Laken, and the three of them burst out into laughter. Less than a second later, the three of them are headed this way.

  “I think we might need Nev for this little meet and greet.” I call him over with the flick of the finger. The girls take a seat at the table just as Nev shows up.

  “What a fine looking group.” He lands his arm around Ezrina. “What can we start you off with?”

  “The truth.” Gage glares at Ezrina a moment. “Take a seat. Both of you.”

  Ezrina’s face grows pale, but those dark eyes of hers fill with something just this side of rage. “No.”

  Coop and Laken exchange a quick glance. “What’s going on?” Coop is pissed before we ever get off go.

  I wipe my face down with my palm, and a flashback of the beating that mystery girl doled out comes back to me. She was strong. Strong as shit. Strong as a Nephilim. A dull laugh pumps through me. Of course. She’s one of us.

  “I’ll give it to you straight.” I turn to Laken. “There’s a girl running around out there with your face.”

  Laken and Coop both take an audible breath while Ezrina and Nev rise from their seats.

  Skyla takes up Laken’s hand. “She was in Ezrina’s lab, and now she’s”—her eyes flit to mine a moment—“Chloe showed us some pictures last night. She’s with Wes.”

  “Shit.” Coop pinches his eyes shut a moment before pinning his anger on Ezrina. “I thought we were friends.”

  “Are.” Ezrina comes as close to showing remorse as I’ve ever seen her. “Sorry. Hands were tied. Wanted to tell you.” Her voice grows small.

  “Then tell us now.” Laken isn’t invoking any friendly tone with Ezrina, or most likely anyone else at the table once she finds out we’ve known for months. “Who is she, and why is she in the Transfer?”

  “She’s sleeping with him.” Skyla cringes as she waits for the blowout.

  Coop slaps his hand over the table so hard the entire establishment turns in our direction.

  “No, it’s fine.” Laken shudders, and the entire lot of us shift our attention her way.

  Skyla chokes on her words. “How is it possibly fine?”

  Laken closes her eyes, and her fingers reach blindly across the table until her husband takes them up again. “It’s not fine in any respect, but there is a problem I’ve encountered. It has something to do with my virginity.” She glances around the table sheepishly. “It turns out Coop says I was with him first—and well, both my memory and my diary say otherwise.”

  “I hate him.” Skyla groans as if she’s going to be sick, but the lack of surprise in her face lets me know she already knew.

  Gage shakes his head over at me. “He’s going back in time.”

  “Is this true?” I look to Coop. As hard as it might be for him to relay, I think we need a few more details. This is big. This might be what we need to get Wesley’s wings clipped. There’s no way the Justice Alliance will put up with this.

  “It’s true. When Laken mentioned it in passing, I knew something was up. Lucky for us Laken kept a diary in high school.” He glances to her. “Each fucking night that book told a different story. I started taking pictures of it to prove it to her.”

  “And that’s when I knew Coop was right.” Laken touches her hand to her neck as if trying to loosen an invisible noose. “A part of me can’t believe he’s done this. And sadly, a part of me can. My memory of what happened is clear.” She grimaces. “But only as far as his latest visit. Apparently, I’ve lost my virginity to Wes close to one hundred times, and that’s just since we’ve been counting.”

  “Oh my shit.” Skyla drops her head in her arms a moment. “Wait a minute.” She surfaces with her hair wild as a tumbleweed. “If you’ve known about Wesley’s vagina dialogues, why the hell haven’t you torn off his wanker?” Sorry, she mouths to Laken for the colorful euphemisms I’m assuming.

  Laken and Coop lose sight of the rest of us as they look to one another, a trace of a smile skirting on their lips.

  “Have you confronted him?” Gage asks it for us.

  “Not yet.” Coop doesn’t take his eyes off Laken. “But we will. Soon.”

  “Very well.” Nev wraps an arm around Ezrina’s waist. “We should get back to tending to the customers.”

  Coop’s cheek twitches, his eyes still locked on Laken’s. “You’re not going anywhere.” He drags his gaze to Ezrina’s. “Who is she?”

  “Can’t.” Ezrina’s eyes fill with tears as she draws in a quick breath. “So very sorry.” She scuttles off toward the kitchen, and Nev scoots right along with her.

  Gage groans as we watch them disappear. “Sounds like Wes has got her by the balls. I’ll talk to him.”

  “No.” Laken cuts a somber look to each of us. “This is my business. My body he’s defiling. This is personal. I’m going to take care of this myself.”

  Coop’s cheek twitches as he offers a crooked smile. I recognize that crooked grin, that magnetic look of shared hatred, of revenge
in their eyes. It’s the exact look I gave Skyla before we ventured off to take care of the Counts and inadvertently turned our lives upside down.

  My stomach clenches at the thought of Laken and Coop doing exactly that. I can’t let them. Nope. The last thing I want to see is Laken and Coop imploding the way Skyla and I did. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  Gage takes up Skyla’s hand, gives it a kiss, and Skyla leans into him, her lips meeting with his a moment. And Gage was there to pick up the pieces. A part of me wonders if Wesley is hoping for the very same outcome. It’s laughable, of course.

  But stranger things have happened.

  They say if you can see a heartache coming a mile away you should run, fast. And in a way, I did run, fast. I jogged all the way over to the bowling alley from Whitehorse, on this, the last and final night of its existence—in this incarnation anyhow. It’s going to be one hell of a night, and I plan on spending it right here in the beating heart of the business my father built with his bare hands. The lights are off, with the exception of the glowing neon bowling pins lighting up the back of the lanes. Mood lighting—it goes right along with the mood music. I switch on the speakers, and the smooth melody of a love song vibrates throughout the bowling alley.

  “Perfectly romantic,” a voice quips from behind, and I close my eyes with disappointment. Definitely not the voice I wanted to hear.

  “Dudley.” I glare at the shoe depository, suddenly wishing I could cram him into it. “I’m expecting company.”

  “Yes, I’m aware.” He circles in front of me with his requisite suit, his trench coat over that. “Skyla and Jock Strap dropped the twins off at the Olivers’ as I was leaving. They mentioned something about stopping off at the bowling alley to say goodbye.”

  My chest gives a couple good thumps as my enthusiasm quickly wanes. In truth, I had built up this evening to heights that weren’t fair to anyone, least of all myself.

  “Great.” I force a smile to come and go. “Gage should be here. It’s his legacy, too.” I had extended the invite only to Skyla. Sold her some lame excuse that I found a bag of old books that belonged to her in the back. That much is true. But in my mind’s eye, I saw Skyla and I locked in one another’s arm, slow dancing over the exact lane where we once proposed to another, her to me, and then me to her. It was just a small moment I wanted to recreate, but I wanted it with everything in me.

  “Good grief,” Dudley moans as if he’s just read my mind, and he might have. “I’ve read your face, not your mind. I’ve no need to pry, but I’m assuming you’ve the need to know. Must you pine so openly? Have you no shame? What’s Jock Strap to think? Dare I say their covenant means nothing to you.”

  The covenant—as in the marriage covenant.

  “It means something.” I slap the shop towel over my shoulder and glare at the bowling alley as if it were the very thing that tore us apart in the first place. “It means my hopes, my dreams, the deepest part of my heart are not to be explored.” I grimace at the door, for the first time tonight praying she won’t come, but I can feel her drawing near to me like the fog to the island. Skyla would never not show.

  Dudley slaps his hand firmly over my shoulder and gives a quick squeeze. “You have a purpose for being here. If it were not true, Candace would never have allowed for it.”

  “Candace loves me. But I’m nothing more than a stumbling block for Skyla and Gage.”

  “That may be so, but that has nothing to do with why fate has landed you in the shoes you fill. Soon, young Oliver.” He gives a gentle pat to my back. “Soon all will be clear and you shall see your destiny”—he pulls me in by the shirt, his glowing red eyes speaking to me with something far more disturbing than words—“face-to-face.”

  He takes off for the exit just as Skyla and Gage come in. He slaps Gage over the shoulder, and they walk out the door together.

  Crap.

  “What was that about?” I’m almost afraid to ask. If that’s Dudley’s version of doing me a favor, I cringe at the thought.

  Skyla bubbles with a laugh, her hair catches the light and glows pale pink. “Is that how you say hello now?”

  My cheek inverts as I hold back a smile. “That’s how I say this is too good to be true. Where’s the big lug off to?” I glare at the door for a moment.

  “Big lug?” She laughs while pulling me in by the collar. “You are dating yourself, Mr. Oliver.” Her hips adhere to mine as natural as breathing, and before I know it, we’re swaying to the music.

  “That’s because I’m old, Skyla.” I brush the hair away from those bright eyes of hers. “What’s with the smooth moves? You trying to incite a riot?”

  “No riot.” She winces up at me, her gaze lost in a subtle curiosity as if remembering a dream. “You are old, aren’t you?” Her finger glides down the bridge of my nose. “Lucky for you I have a thing for old dudes.” She gives a sly wink, and that bubbling laughter reprises itself again. My heart, though, it can’t keep up with her insidious sense of humor, and instead takes every word to heart. Her features smooth out. “You should take them to heart. I meant every one.”

  I can’t help but frown. “It’s not always a gift to have you hear me. Especially those rogue thoughts that stray in and out of my brain without my permission.”

  “Those are the most insidious of all, aren’t they, Professor Oliver?”

  “Okay, you’re funny.” My hand glides down her back, and I dip her.

  “Wow!” She rights herself, pink in the cheeks, her hair exploding into a ball of fire. “Why don’t I do the leading for a bit?” Her left brow creates a hook as it skyrockets into her forehead. “Come,” she says it low and sharp, and every last part of me very much wants to take it as a command. Skyla leads us over a few lanes before dancing us deeper down the slicked tongue of the alley. “Was it here?” She gives the innocent tick of curiosity in her features, but I can see right through it.

  “You know damn well it was right here.” I’m breathless. Not only am I dancing with Skyla, shutting this place down the way I’ve dreamed, but she’s maneuvered us right into this very lane—exactly where the magic happened. “I’m in love with you.” I press a kiss to the top of her head and linger. “As my sister-in-law, of course.” I pull back with a shit-eating grin.

  “Stop.” She slaps my chest. “Technically, you’re my uncle-in-law—a very naughty, naughty uncle.” Now she’s the one who’s frowning. “How did you ever let Ellis talk you into this nightmare?”

  “I’m assuming you mean the destruction of the bowling alley, not us.” Although on paper, Skyla and I penned out to be a very bad idea. And in that vein, who the hell gives a shit about paper? The best laid plans often lead straight to hell. I can attest to that.

  “Ellis talked me into a thing of beauty. You and I will both be standing here in a year”—I let out a breath, considering my construction timing—“or ten, and we will both be singing his praises. Ellis is responsible for a lot of good ideas.” My bottom lip tugs as I restrain the smile once again. “Like Nathan and Barron.”

  “Oh crap.” She buries her face in my chest while whacking my arm with her hand. “Is nothing sacred anymore? Okay, so you’re right. Ellis has landed us a couple of happy accidents, but that doesn’t mean taking a wrecking ball to this place is his best work yet. You sure about this? I’ll work a shift whenever I can. Just let the bowling alley live to see another day.” She dips her chin, pleading in that adorable innocent way, and my heart wrenches because this might be the first time I refuse her.

  “I promise I will let the bowling alley live to see another day.”

  She gives a little hop, her fingers digging into my ribs.

  “But before sunset, it gets the wrecking ball.”

  Her mood deflates as she rolls her eyes. “You’re such a tease.”

  “I learned from the best.”

  We share a warm laugh, and my fingers glide into her hair as I draw her closer to me. Skyla lays her head over my chest as we move slo
wly, carefully one last time over the very spot where we decided to enter into a sacred, albeit brief covenant of our own.

  “Your heart is beating,” she whispers, patting her fingers across my chest.

  “It’s just showing off for you, Skyla. I’m still dead.”

  She shakes her head, sniffing back tears. “Not true. You’re here, beautiful and strong. You smell good, too.” She gives a gentle scratch over my chin. “Death is more or less an idea—a bad one, a good one. Who am I to say?”

  I press my lips to her forehead as I consider this. “It’s a mandatory regulation designed by the Master to cull the world of humans past their prime. It is the initiation of souls into the gathering of the ages—an ushering of spirits to the winnowing of the sheep and the goats, the white throne judgment for those it awaits.”

  “Don’t we all await judgment?” The mood grows somber, as does the music, and her hips move slower, her voice edging just this side of tears.

  “No.” I pull back and look at her like this, washed in the neon afterglow, the hair above her head lit up like a halo. “We’re forgiven. Past, present, and future sins wiped away as if they never existed.”

  Her eyes latch to mine as we hold a hypnotic gaze. “Though they were like scarlet, they are washed white as snow.” Her finger bounces over my bottom lip with an aching grief. “Gage says he may not be able to control his heart. It’s his worst fear. It’s also mine.”

  A ragged sigh escapes me. “He’ll need us more than ever.”

  She lays her head over my chest once again before looking back up abruptly. “Would you do something for me, Logan?”

  The passion in her voice, the pleading look in her eyes, the pang of desperation exuding from her, it sends a rush of adrenaline coursing through me greater than anything I ever felt when I was alive.

  “I will do anything for you, Skyla.” My finger hooks under her chin, and I lift her to me ever so slightly. “I will move the earth, the moon—drain the world of its oceans. I will stop the wind from howling, the rain from falling from the sky. Name it. It’s already yours.” And yes, if she asked once again to stop the destruction of this place, I’d yield to even that. My finger strokes over her soft cheek, and my gut ropes off in a knot, but her gaze never wavers.