The Dragon and the Rose

  That “little bitch” just so happens to be her best friend, Lexy. This entire scenario is familiar to me because a few years back, it was me they were battling over. I won’t deny it—my ego is slightly bruised. Is that what I want? Michelle and Lexy going at it again? Ripping their hair out in the middle of one of Harrison’s big bashes over yours truly? Hell, I’m glad it’s not me. I’m too old for this shit, correction—too dead for this shit.

  “So will you do it?”

  “For sure,” I say without conviction. “As soon as he gets back. Besides, I don’t think he’s serious about Lex. His ego just got bruised that’s all. Trust me, I know all about bruised egos.”

  Michelle runs her bronzed fingers through my hair. “I’m so sorry Messenger took a giant crap all over your heart.”

  I moan as I bury the back of my head in the seat cushion. I won’t lie, it feels pretty good to have her fingernails gently grazing over my scalp. For a moment I pretend it’s Skyla. Just because she’s married to Gage doesn’t mean I can’t have a moment with her, alone in my thoughts. And, unfortunately, if he keeps moving in the trajectory he’s headed, he may not be married to her for long.

  The door bursts open, and before I can open my eyes, I find Skyla, herself hovering over us with a look of utter disgust.

  “So this is what goes on around here, huh?” She heads back to the door, and I bolt up to block her from leaving. “By all means, don’t let me interrupt.” She tosses her hands in the air. “It’s been like the freaking Twilight Zone around here the last few weeks.”

  “Why’s that, Messenger?” Michelle strides over with her lips twisting as if she has an entire arsenal of insults ready to spit out. “Is it because all the boys you’ve kept on very short leashes have finally come to their sense and cut themselves loose? Did you really expect to marry Gage and still have Logan and Dudley at your beck and call? By the way, Dudley is upstairs right now getting it on with some woman named Marlena.”

  “Marshall!” Skyla cries exasperated.

  Dudley rushes down the stairs without missing a beat—fully clothed, shoes on, nothing incriminating about his hair, no lipstick on his collar.

  I raise my hand and hold back a smile because her fury makes her look cute as hell. “For the record, I’m still at your beck and call.”

  Her cheek glides up one side of her face before she turns to Dudley.

  “Why is she here?”

  “My lady friend is feeling a bit under the weather.” He glances toward his bedroom before leaning in. “I’m afraid she’s exhibiting the first symptoms of the Black Plague. It doesn’t end well from here.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right.” Skyla gives a quick grimace. “I forgot all about the plague. And then there’s the cliff she flings herself from. Dover was it?”

  A gasp emits from upstairs.

  “It appears my lady friend is apprised of your comments. If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Make sure to take a shower when she leaves. Maybe tackle the place with Lysol!” Skyla calls after him. She runs to the base of the stairs and shouts. “I didn’t mean that about the cliff, Marlena!” She spins around just as Gage bursts into the foyer, dripping like a wet dog.

  “What’s got you so winded?” I shut the door after him.

  “I ran.”

  “What? No blipping yourself to and fro?”

  “I was chasing Ellis.” He staggers toward Skyla. “I was not trying to sleep with that girl.”

  “Save it.” She waves him off. “I never said you were.” She shoots me a look.

  After Skyla saw the empty tank, that once housed my body, she immediately wanted to file for divorce, but I made her see the light. Gage is still in there somewhere, and we have to believe he’s only acting this way because he thinks it’s going to benefit the Nephilim. Skyla still loves Gage. This is just a bump in the road—a very tall, jagged, kill your tires, gut your engine kind of bump in the road. If they survive it’ll be a miracle, but I need that same miracle to believe that my nephew hasn’t sold his soul to the devil. Regardless of what I’ve seen, my heart tells me something different.

  “What’s this?” Michelle steps over to Skyla. I wouldn’t get too close if I were her. “Trouble in paradise, so soon? I bet you said Logan’s name in bed, too.”

  “You wish.” Skyla folds her arms across her chest while staring down this watery version of Gage.

  No, I wish. I give a smug look to my nephew. Actually, I rebuke the thought. As much as I don’t like where things are right now, this is their time. I’m simply providing the body the Barricade needs for God knows what.

  Gage barrels over. “I caught Ellis and Giselle together.” His jaw clenches. “Things got ugly.”

  “What?”

  “I’m so fucking pissed I can’t see straight.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, spinning with rage.

  I’m stunned. I’m not sure why, after all, Ellis is—was her boyfriend.

  “Did you kill him?”

  “I gave it a shot. I threw him into a window and chased him a quarter mile—threatening his balls.”

  “It’s a start.” And for the first time, in a good long while, Gage and I are aligned on something. Who knew it’d take Ellis’s dick to get us to where we needed to be. “Where’s Giselle?”

  Skyla sighs. “She said she was going home. I think maybe to the Kragger’s. She was pretty upset.”

  “You two seem riled up yourselves.” Michelle snatches her purse off the table. “Look, if Liam comes back with that skank be sure to call—”

  “Who are you calling a skank?” Lex charges in, and she and Michelle go at it.

  I head over to my brother and shove him toward the burgeoning catfight. “Deal with this.”

  “I need to talk to you.” Skyla doesn’t hesitate pulling me away. She leads me to the porch, and Gage follows us out.

  He steps between Skyla and me, his eyes bearing into hers. “Whatever you have to say to him, you can say to me.”

  I’ve never seen this side of Gage before, demanding, angry with Skyla of all people, but mostly he just seems desperate.

  The world stops for a moment. Skyla closes the distance between them and gets in his face.

  “I can speak to whomever I please with or without you present.” Her head tips back, and she closes her eyes a moment. “But since you insist on listening in, I was simply going to tell Logan that, yes, I will ask my mother to help furnish Ezrina with whatever technological advances we’ll need to fight the Barricade.” She swallows her anger in one giant gulp. “It seems critical we stay one step ahead. Don’t you agree?”

  His dimples dig in deep, no smile. A clear sign he’s not entirely enthused with what he’s hearing. No big surprise there.

  “I completely agree.”

  But I know what Skyla meant. Despite whatever bullshit happened tonight, and I don’t doubt it was exceptionally upsetting, she’s decided to take one for the team.

  She’s doing exactly what I pleaded for her to do.

  She’s staying with Gage.

  We still need him.

  The enemy is much easier to keep track of when he’s in our midst.

  Apparently it isn’t easy for Skyla to get a moment away from her wet shadow, so I decide to visit her in my nighttime wanderings.

  “You up for hitting the Transfer?” I’ve made my way into her dreams before uninvited, but that was years before we met, and she lived in L.A.

  “Yes.” Skyla takes my hand, and I pull her into my dreamscape. She glances down at herself and plucks at her skirt. “Why am I wearing my West cheerleading uniform?”

  “I didn’t know if you were wearing clothes.” I would bet good money she wasn’t. “Besides, it brings back good memories.” The best.

  She glances up and down my body. “What’s fair for me is fair for you. Now let’s see it, Oliver. Number twelve was it?”

  “Fine.” I close my eyes, and when I open them I’m wearing my uniform sans the shoulder pads.
“Is that better?”

  “Much.” A sheepish grin settles on her beautiful face. “And, you’re right, it does bring back good memories. To the Transfer?”

  I press my hand in the small of her back. “I thought we’d get there old school.”

  Paragon forms around us as we step out onto Devil’s Peak. The rocky shore below taunts us, dares us to dive deep with its razor like granite. The angry sea writhes and roars as it spits white foam over the shoreline.

  “Ready?”

  Skyla wraps her arms tight around my waist and lays her head on my chest.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  I inch us toward the edge of the cliff until our shoes hang off the side.

  “One, two—”

  And we fall.

  Skyla and I free fall into nothing as the dark clouds warp and twist above. The Paragon fog cradles us in the illusion of its safety as the spiked shoreline comes up in quick jags. Skyla intensifies her grip over me as we power through terra firma. A slight jolt of electricity washes over us as a new world forms, a world of ever-present darkness, of sinister deeds and desolation. We land on a grassy knoll and roll our way down, laughing like a couple of children as we land flat on our backs.

  “That was quite the adventure, Logan Oliver.” She gently swats my chest. “Thank you for that. I’ve really been tempted to jump off a cliff lately.”

  “Things are that bad?” In no way do I intend to play marriage counselor. I simply want to be Skyla’s friend through this tumultuous time in her life. “He tell you where he’s going at night?”

  “He won’t say a word, and I won’t ask. Aren’t we a pair?”

  “He will. Gage was born to do what’s right.”

  “Really? Do you think he gets that from his mother or his father?”

  “Skyla.” I help her up, and we start to make our way to the old lab. “He loves you. He’s inherently good. You and I can both attest to that.” We bypass the haunted mansion and pause a moment to look in awe at Wesley’s new and improved version looming over the horizon. “Why do you think he chose to live here?”

  “Simple. He could never live in a plane where Laken doesn’t choose him. His ego would never allow it. His heart is shattered. If he lives here, he doesn’t have to accept reality.”

  “Now that you put it that way, maybe I should join him.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders and jostle her. “I’m only half kidding.”

  “I know.” She lays her head on my chest as we walk to the mouth of the lab, spewing its harsh light like a beacon into this desolate night.

  “Who’s running the show here?” Skyla leans into me as we approach the place where she was once held captive.

  “Wesley himself. Turns out, the dude is a genius. Not as brilliant as Ezrina but a close second. Don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t think that highly of him. Personally, I didn’t know they stacked shit that high.”

  Chloe emerges swinging a set of keys like a prison warden. “About time. I haven’t got all night, you know.” She openly scowls at Skyla. “Why am I not surprised to see you?”

  “Why am I surprised to see her?” Skyla wants an explanation. I can tell she’s fed up with the secrecy that continues to plague her relationships.

  “I asked Chloe to let us in. Wes doesn’t know.”

  “Oh, he knows,” Chloe bleats. “Not much happens around here that gets past Wesley.” We follow her down the elongated corridors all decked out in laminate and steel. The lab I built under Whitehorse is an exact duplicate. I had Ezrina help me with the plans. I didn’t realize she’d be free at the time, but I wanted to give her a refuge to work on projects for Celestra if need be, and God knows we have hit the if-need-be phase.

  Skyla takes up my hand. “What are we doing here?”

  “I’ve come to see someone I haven’t seen in a good long while.”

  Skyla racks her brain for an answer. “Ingram?”

  “Nope.” Ezrina’s ex is the last person on my list to pay a midnight visit.

  “Here we are.” Chloe unlocks the steel door to a very familiar room. The summer Skyla first came to Paragon, she ended up here, a captive of Ezrina herself. “After you.” Chloe swings the door wide, and I pause.

  “Skyla”—I take up both her hands and look so deep into her crystal eyes I feel as if I’m falling right into her soul—“it’s me I came to see. I want to see the state of my body. I realize Gage handed me over for a reason, but a part of me is dying to know what, if any, is left of that shell that once housed me.” I don’t dare say it in front of Chloe, but what I’m really looking for is any evidence that might give us a leg up. I don’t have some narcissistic need to see if they’ve marred my face. “I’m not sure what’s in that room. I hope you understand, but I don’t want you to see me this way.” And that, too, is the truth.

  She gives a circular nod as a silent tear rolls down her cheek. “I’ll wait right here.”

  “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

  Chloe leads me in. The room is identical to the last time I saw it. A metal bed lies in the center, a sheet covering a body lies over it. Trays are set about the room, laden with barbaric devices.

  “It’s not that bad.” Chloe pinches the crisp white sheet from the top. “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Remember…” Chloe bears into me with those insane molten eyes. It’s the same way she looked at me right before she sliced my head off. “You, Logan Oliver, are a Celestra.” She whips off the sheet in a single bound.

  My body lies stiff. A pale blue cast clings to my skin. My eyes, my mouth are both partially opened.

  A heavy sigh comes from my chest as what’s before me comes into focus.

  The skin on my lifeless body fidgets. It moves in waves as my bloated, naked frame comes to life in this peculiar way. I touch my hand over my cold arm to affirm my worst nightmare. Stuffed beneath the surface of my skin are the Dolomite worms, eating, gnawing on me from the inside out—not one inch of flesh has been spared. A tiny pink worm peeks out from the corner of my eye, a dozen crawl from my mouth and make me want to vomit.

  “Their coming for the light,” Chloe says, returning the sheet to its rightful place. “Everything in nature is drawn to the damn light.”

  The light is the truth. We’re all bending, stretching to discover what the meaning of all this madness is—hoping to grow in the process—and those worms that are feasting on my flesh are no different.

  The truth.

  Maybe it’s time I beat the shit out of Gage to get it.

  7

  How to Train Your Dragon

  Skyla

  Paragon shakes and quivers under the supervision of what’s being billed as the super storm of the century. The days are dark. The nights are lost in water. It’s times like this I miss L.A. the most. I miss the round face of a peppermint moon, the sprinkling of stars lying over a velvet navy night—the warm scented breezes perfumed with salt from the Pacific. But when my father’s life was taken from him, the beauty of those balmy L.A. nights died right along with him. And, now, here I am on Paragon as the rain drives down, angry and menacing like an enemy hell-bent on destruction.

  Gage is the enemy. I’ve fought the concept for so long, and now the revelation is fresh again, staring me in the face by way of an empty glass casket that once housed Logan’s body. And now I want Gage to die. I want him to live. I want to wrestle him to the ground and make him tell me everything he’s holding back. So many questions, so many answers I may never have. I’m living in a hurricane of confusion with my emotions tossed in this violent storm of my husband’s making.

  Logan has tried his best to convince me that Gage is still the sweet, innocent boy he grew up with—that my husband’s seeming deception is nothing more than an illusion he’s unable to demystify at the moment. All will come to fruition, he assured. And, deep down, I want nothing more than to believe him. Logan has been an anchor through this storm. Had he not been here, had I bee
n left to my own devices, or alone with Marshall—who would have certainly had me willingly in his bed by now—this life I’m living would look a whole lot different.

  As it stands, Gage and I have been staying with Emma and Barron for three solid weeks—correction, Emma, Barron and Kresley for three solid, insufferable weeks. Logan has wisely remained at Marshall’s although he mentioned in passing that he’d probably come back to the Oliver’s shortly after the New Year. I think that was his warning to Gage to find someplace else for the two of us to play house. And believe me, I’d like nothing more. Although, the thought of Kresley popping in as often as she does while Logan is living here makes my skin crawl. Why can’t she set her sights on Liam like all the other red-blooded girls on the island? The way he bounces between Lexy, Michelle, Grayson, and Brooke, you would think he had a lightning rod in his pants. And if he’s anything like the other two Olivers—he most certainly does.

  Speaking of Logan—a wave of grief washes over me—it’s the thirteenth of December. It’s the day that would have been our one-year anniversary. In a word, all that I can think of to describe this precious day is pain. Last year at this time we shared three intense passion-filled days that culminated in tragedy. Pain in acres. And now how horrid it must be for him to imagine me tucked in the arms of the one he considers a brother. I wonder how much agony I’ve carved over his heart simply by going on with my life.

  I cringe at my own audacity.

  The bowling alley is slow today with just a few group leagues willing to brave the storm. Some people are staunch that way with their carefully orchestrated lives, bowling on Saturday, come rain or shine! Not even bloodied limbs falling from the sky could put a hitch in their routine.

  “Are you listening?” Lexy barks from behind, and I jump.

  “Yes. Sorry, no. I’m a complete space case today.” I sweep my gaze behind her checking for Logan. He went to Cost Club to pick up a few supplies. Normally he wouldn’t go out in the late afternoon, in the middle of shift, in the middle of a storm, but a part of me wonders if I’m the reason. I fully plan on acknowledging our special day with him. He took off so fast I couldn’t get two words in. “Lex, what would you do for dinner if it were your one year anniversary?” She’ll probably say something romantic and impossible to implement due the fact I have another man’s ring on my finger. Impossible because it would be inappropriate. Logan and I had both changed like leaves in the fall.