Crown of Ashes

by Addison Moore

  “Excellent to see you, my love. And you”—he nods to Gage. “And, of course, the guests of honor.” He smiles at both boys in turn. “If you don’t mind, I’ll introduce you now.” Ingram turns to the sea of people, all in glittering gowns and black tuxes. You’d think this were prom and not the culmination of a year’s worth of easy living for the boys. He motions to someone near the back as the crowd parts down the never-ending room, and the volume on the music turns down a notch. “Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Gage Oliver. Master Nathan and Master Barron.”

  The room erupts in cheers as a multitude of voices cry out at once.

  Ingram lifts a hand. “Let the masquerade ball begin!” He leans in and motions to the diaper bag. “If I may.”

  “Be my guest.” I’m quick to discard the twenty pounds of designer luggage.

  The orchestra picks up again as Gage leads the boys and me through the neatly parted sea. About halfway through, the crowd collapses around us with my mother and Demetri quick to pluck the boys from our hands. My mother in her red dress with matching face garb and Demetri in a tux, his mask made of black scales—because he’s a snake like that.

  My mother lowers her feathered mask a moment, and I can’t help but note she’s donned that Dominique Winters’ inspired mole once again over her left cheek. “Isn’t this fabulous?”

  “It’s something, all right.”

  Demetri widens his grin and nods in my direction. “This splendid celebration would have been impossible without the two of you, of course.”

  Mom chortles herself straight into a Demetri-gasm over the quasi-inappropriate innuendo.

  Mom holds out Nathan’s hand and begins dancing with him as her cleavage ripples out of her low-cut gown. “It’s beautiful, Demetri! How can we ever, ever repay you?”

  Dear Lord, flaunt your boobs at him one more time and I’m sure he’ll think of a way.

  You can practically hear his dark laughter over the music. “Try as you might, you’ve done so much for me already.” He gives a sly wink.

  Yeah, like gifting him an illegitimate child. My mother’s gratitude knows no vaginal bounds.

  Mom sneers into him with a rather flirtatious toothy grin, her red-hot mask only adding fuel to the lusty fire. “You do know me, don’t you? Rest assured, I will try my hardest!”

  Rest assured I will be puking on Demetri’s limestone flooring if this drags on one more two-timing minute.

  Tad waddles up with a blue glowing cocktail in his hand, his mask slung over his forehead as if he’s given up on both the party and on life—and oddly his mask bears a striking resemblance to donkey ears. Go figure.

  “Jumping Jehoshaphat!” Tad whoops, and Gage slips his arm around my waist as if readying to protect me in the event he malfunctions. And, knowing how badly Demetri wants to bed my mother, Tad should very much be on the lookout for something far more nefarious than a simple malfunction. “Demeet—we’re five minutes of eleven, you and I.”

  Gage and I grimace at the exact same time. I lean in and whisper, “Demeet?”

  “Five minutes of eleven?” Gage shakes his head. “They’re not friends. They’re not even close.”

  Demetri barks out a demonic laugh. “Yes, Thaddaeus Thorne Landon, my good dear fellow. We are all of that and more. And my, what a lovely bride you have. You must be quite smitten. How did you ever agree to let her out of your bedroom this evening?”

  Gage rubs my back, his lips trying their hardest to hold back a smile. I can tell he enjoys Tad getting his comeuppance even if it is at the hands of his cruel father.

  “A man’s gotta open the barn door sometime and let the old mare out into pasture.” He claps his hand over Mom’s shoulder in the event there was any confusion as to who the old mare in question was.

  Tad flicks his thumbs under his jacket, revealing a pair of rainbow-striped suspenders. Figures. Tad’s superpower is dumbing down just about any outfit. I’m surprised my mother lets him out of the house.

  Mom plasters a forced grin to her face and shakes her head at the offense while Nathan does his best to pick her nose. “He’s teasing. Tad worships the ground I walk on, let alone the things he does to me in the bedroom. We’ve quite the action-packed boudoir!”

  Oh my living God. Is Lizbeth Landon trying to incite Demeet the dapper demon into an unholy jealous rage? And why the hell am I standing here listening to this salacious nonsense?

  Tad balks at my mother’s claims before downing the rest of the electric blue concoction in his hand. “Too much action if you ask me!”

  Holy hell!

  Demetri’s mouth contours, and you can see his eyes turning twelve shades of boiling rage. Tad is going to miss that fire he walked into that brought him a year’s worth of misery once Demetri is through with him. I have a feeling this masquerade is about to turn murderous.

  I glance to the mouth of the entry and note a dark shadow lingering, jettisoning out of my line of vision before I can adjust my eyes to light, and a mean shiver runs through me.

  Tad makes an effort to extract the very last drop of his drink. “It’s all those rugrats she’s amassed, running around underfoot, slamming those caskets around the floor like they were castanets. A man can’t sleep in an environment like that. It’s not natural. Sometimes I wish I could unplug the old noggin just to get a solid eight.”

  I’m sure Demetri can arrange for Tad’s noggin to remain unplugged for far longer than a solid eight. If I didn’t know better, I think I smell a coma on the horizon.

  Gage gives my hand a squeeze. You think Tad is stepping in line for a dirt nap?

  I glance up, and we share a quiet laugh. Normally, I love it that Gage and I are so in tune, but given the circumstances, I think we should be frightened for Thaddaeus Thorne Landon.

  Demetri gleams under the blue pox he’s cast upon this place. “Lizbeth and the children are always welcome to stay here. Anything to provide respite for my dearest, most treasured friend.”

  Mom gloms on quickly to the slumber party invite just as the Olivers head this way, Emma in her orange veil of a mask and Dr. O looking every bit the distinguished gentleman with his simple black mask. “Oh, I would love a staycation at Casa Edinger! I bet the beds are extra comfy.” She gives Demetri a slight poke in the ribs, and they share a private laugh because everyone but Tad knows they’ve tested out the mattress springs on more than one occasion.

  “Good evening!” Demetri bows to both Emma and Barron, and false niceties are shared all around.

  Barron gifts both Gage and me a hug while Emma offers only her son a hearty embrace.

  “Skyla,” she says my name as if it were perfunctory.

  “Emma.” I try not to sound sarcastic, but I can’t help it. Emma has mastered the art of turning even something as splendid as my boys’ very first birthday party into a crap-fest. Kate had it right. She is trouble with a capital T.

  I give the crowd a quick sweep for my quiet blonde friend. She promised me she’d let me in on why Emma scares the resurrected daylights out of her just before she was whisked away to the great beyond once again. And I have a feeling that good time is ready to come to an end.

  Demetri nods to Emma. “Tad and Lizbeth were just apprising us of their robust love life.”

  Emma’s mouth falls open, and as much as I like the idea that something other than me has gotten under craw, I can’t bear another moment of the Lizbeth-Tad-Demetri porno playing out.

  “I can’t watch anymore.” I pull Gage to the side just as the music picks up to fantastic orchestral heights.

  Gage cranes his neck past my shoulder, his mouth set in stone as if something were pulling him out of the moment.

  The crowd swirls around us, and soon enough I’m lost and separated from my gorgeous mask-bearing husband.

  I turn to look for him in a panic, but it’s wall-to-wall bodies, and soon I’m pressed against an all too familiar rock-hard chest. He’s tall and achingly gorgeous even with that sleek silver mask covering the norther
half of his comely features.

  “Ms. Messenger.” He wraps an arm around my waist, the other leading me by the hand into a slow waltz.

  “Marshall Dudley, you slay in a tuxedo. I think every ovary in the room just exploded in your honor.”

  “Ah, if only it were reserved to this simple evening.” He pulls back a notch to inspect me. “My, my—you have a way with blue. It brings out the amorous affection you hold for me in your eyes.”

  I bubble with laughter. “Forever the clown. You were one from the beginning you know.” Literally. But that’s another story.

  Those crimson cauldrons of his narrow in on me. “Your mother is here to see you.”

  “The one flirting shamelessly with Demetri while trying to hustle a room in this dungeon of depravity? Or the celestial thorn in my side that offered me a child and dissolved her to nothing more than a memory?”

  Marshall wrinkles his forehead as if he were in pain. “My love. The latter. And do refrain from calling her anything but Your Grace upon your meeting. There is a season for all things, Skyla, and this is a season to humble yourself before the celestial great. She’s brought her cohorts along for the ride.”

  “The entire Decision Council?” I give the room a quick once-over, but with those blue floodlights Demetri insists on pummeling us with and the sea of luxurious dresses whirling and twirling, the Transfer transplants partying like it was 1699—it’s sort of hard to determine who’s who.

  “That’s right, Skyla.” His chest bucks with his next breath, and I can tell even Marshall is impressed as hell over this. “The crème de la crème of celestial society has descended on Paragon for the night.”

  “Really? My God. This is bigger than the boys’ christening. Who knew a year in the life of two little earthlings was cause for such a celestial uproar?”

  Marshall’s eyes flit to the exit. “There are others.” His tone drops down to its lower, far more threatening register, and every hormone in my body riots all at once.

  “Others?” I make a face in the general direction of where Demetri and my mother argue over which bedroom they’ll copulate in next. “Yes, well, this is the demon’s dance. No poltergeist prom is worth its salt if the dark side isn’t represented. I’m sure it’s all for show. Demetri is eager to parade the boys around to just about anybody—and, well, the Fems and all their dark glory are just about anybody.”

  Marshall growls, his gaze still fixed on the exit. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” His eyes narrow as if he were threatening somebody. “I’m sure whatever it is he’s doing here doesn’t concern death.”

  “Who is he?” A chill runs up my spine because I’m not so sure I want to know.

  “The Grim Reaper.” Marshall sheds a stunning grin my way as if the concept in general were laughable. “He and your father-in-law have always been thick as celestial thieves. You’re right. Not to worry. This is a night for grand displays, and Demetri is making the grandest of them all.”

  “Grim Reaper?” I bite down so hard on my bottom lip I swear I taste blood. “God, what if the gift he’s about to give the boys is death!”

  Marshall growls, “Open your mouth so I can bite your pretty little tongue off.” His cheek rises on one side, and I can practically smell the lewd intent. “Something tells me your boys will survive much more than just this night.”

  Marshall dances us to the exit, then straight out of the grand room and down through the hall that leads to the back exit. We head outside, and the sight of Demetri’s park-like yard takes my breath away. A spray of stars hovers unnaturally low over the entire circumference of the party, offering a pale lavender glow. Rows and rows of trees adorn the outline of the festivities with ornate globes on them in shapes and colors I have never seen before. A man dressed in a white robe plucks a blue pear-shaped fruit off a branch and takes a bite right out of it.

  “What is this?” I whisper as Marshall leads us down the stairs.

  “It seems the heavenlies brought a little bit of home along for the ride. Creature comforts if you will.” He reaches up and plucks a red star-shaped bulb from a tree and hands it to me.

  “So they brought the stars and their own farmers’ market. Interesting. That won’t arouse suspicion at all. Thank God those Spectators filled a much-needed paranormal void.”

  “Did they?” Marshall frowns into the crowd. “Or did they simply whet their appetite for the many variety of beings they can imprison and torment.”

  A horrible dark feeling clamps over me because I’ve never celebrated the fact the Spectators were taken. I hate what Wes had done to them, and now I hate what I’ve done to them.

  A tall raven-haired girl in a silver gown comes up with her hair pulled back, her blue eyes outlined heavily in black kohl, and her lips set scarlet.

  “Emerson Kragger.” I make a face as she lunges for me. She’s unmasked because, well, it’s obvious Emerson doesn’t play games.

  “I can’t go back, Skyla. Your mom’s here, and she’s wigging out—herding us all together so she can give us the old heave ho, and you can’t let her take me. I don’t want to be a stupid owl, and for damn sure I don’t want to be dead. Can’t you just tell her to chill out?”

  Giselle comes up breathless behind her, equally stunning, but that look of sheer panic on her face distracts momentarily from her beauty. Unlike her counterpart, Giselle is sporting a rather adorable pink feathered mask that sits neatly over her nose.

  “Don’t you dare let her stay!” Giselle smacks Emerson until she takes a few steps back. “She’s after my Ellis. She’s been trying to stick her tongue down his pants ever since the day she arrived, and just now I caught her trying to kiss him!”

  I groan at the thought of either scenario. “I think the euphemism you were going for is tongue down his throat. And Emerson? Really?” I turn to her in disappointment.

  “What?” she growls. “Ellis is hot. Plus, he’s been my supplier for years. We sort of bonded over the many ways Chloe screwed us over. Him literally and me, well, she’s the reason I’m bound to featherdom to begin with. Where is the little slut?” She cuts a dead look around.

  “Never mind,” I scold. “I can’t control who my mother plucks into the great beyond. Trust me, I’d have a couple more children if I could.” Just the thought of Sage and Angel rips my heart out all over again.

  Marshall lands a warm hand over my back. “Perhaps you have not because you ask not. It seems the woman of the hour is upon us.” He nods straight ahead as my mother lights up the night like a firebrand. Her glowing hair, her luminescent face and body defuse the darkness in a soft halogen haze. She lifts the brilliant white mask from her face a moment as if to assure me of her presence.

  Emerson grips me by the arm. “Don’t let her do it, Skyla.” Her speech is pressured. Her nails dig into my flesh. “Beg for my life. You won’t regret it. I promise!”

  “Skyla, darling,” my mother trills as she opens her arms momentarily. I’ve heard of air kisses, but I think my mother just invented the air hug. “Such a grand delight. When Demetri invited the celestial gentry to the Bastard’s Ball, we did hesitate to come. But it’s all worked out for the greater good.”

  “Excuse me? Did you say Bastard’s Ball?” I shake my head, incredulous. “I’ve put up with a lot of things, but having my children disrespected so greatly and on their birthday. No, I’m not having any of it.”

  “Gage is the bastard.” She cups my cheek, and that beautiful strumming sensation streams right down to my toes. “Of course, you already knew that. You’re married to the—”

  “I get it.” Wow, just when I had a smidge of respect for Demetri, he reminds me of why I hate him so. How dare he! And on Gage’s birthday! “So, I hear you’re taking the dead to their final resting places tonight.” I glint to the crowd in search of Kate. If she’s about to be snatched from reality, I need to be sure to solve that Emma mystery before she trots off and leaves me hanging with the anemic info I already know.


  Emerson hits bone with those claws she’s molesting me with.

  My mother glowers at Emerson a moment, and her grip relents. “Our precious Pierce and that Kate girl you killed are the only two I’ll be returning to paradise this evening.” I give a few rapid blinks at the thought of Pierce as precious.

  “Technically, I landed them both there to begin with.” I give a little odd curtsey and immediately feel like an ass. “Anyway, Holden and Serena are excited to get their plume on—but Emerson here”—I make a face at the Kragger currently cutting off the blood supply to my left arm—“she sort of wants to stick around. I mean, I know that it would totally be putting you out and that—”

  “Sure.” My mother claps her hands, and a pink fog surrounds them momentarily.

  “Sure?” both Emerson and I balk in unison.

  “Yes, I’ll simply take Giselle back with me tonight. We can’t have two Emerson Kraggers running around on the island forever.”

  “No!” both Giselle and I scream in unison. I’d shout jinx! but this entire night is starting to feel like it’s exactly that, jinxed.

  “Goodness, make up your mind.” My mother narrows her gaze my way. “Which is it you want?”

  “Both.”

  “Both.” She tosses Marshall a look that could slice his balls off before twitching into a sly smile. “I suppose I could grant you one wish on, this, the day after your own birthday.” Her teeth graze her bottom lip, and her eyes sparkle with a certain kind of venom. I’ve seen that look before on my own face, and she’s up to no good. “How about you either spare these two featherheads from the great beyond—or anyone else of your own choosing? Your girls are off-limits. So is anyone in a Treble. You’ll have until midnight to decide.”

  “My father.” And just like that, I’ve thrown both of the featherheads next to me under the sarcophagus bus and into a squawking tizzy.

  Candace offers a tired smile as if she feels pity for me, and she’s simultaneously had it with me at the same time. “He’s raising Sage, Skyla. He can’t be bothered.”