“What’s this?” Chloe Bishop pops up from behind like a dark unwanted shadow, and I can’t help but scowl at her presence. “New year, new you.” A devilish smile curls on Chloe’s lips as she inspects Laken from head to glittery toe. I actually summoned Chloe to show this evening. I need to speak with her and prefer doing so with large crowds buffering me from my homicidal tendencies. And I really do want to kill Chloe for defiling Gage’s head with that rat trap at the base of her thighs. It’s actions like that which lead me to believe Chloe is well past redeemable. And I was almost going to look past the fact she killed my father and my first husband—almost. Chloe is just as demonic as Wes, and honestly, they were a match made in hell. I can’t imagine why they didn’t work out. They looked so good on paper. But the heart wants what the heart wants. Wesley’s obsession with Laken reigns supreme, and Chloe’s insistence to worship at Gage’s feet permeates all her good senses. That is, if she had any.
“You’re glowing.” Chloe grins like a jack-o’-lantern. “Let me guess. My husband finally knocked you up?” She looks to me with those soulless eyes. “I guess he’ll be giving October the boot. Any room at the Landon cemetery for one more?”
Laken dismisses her with a flick of the wrist. “Would you please go away? October is as good as mine. She’s not going anywhere.” Laken shakes her head at me, exasperated. “Is she for real? Can a person really be that maniacal and cruel?”
“Maniacal and cruel are Chloe’s middle names. And now that you have an accurate depiction of her character, I’m trusting you’ll begin to see Wesley’s true colors as well. He did choose Chloe to be his bride. Think about it, Laken. What kind of a decent guy would pick Chloe to spend the rest of his natural life with?”
A horrible retching sound comes from her, and for a minute I expect her to go full-on projectile vomit on us. How I loathed those vomit-filled days that seemed to last nine long months when I was pregnant with the boys. But Laken is clearly gagging at my statement regarding her wicked husband.
“Skyla, I understand completely that you and Wes don’t see eye to eye on Faction business, but he’s your husband’s brother. We’re practically sisters-in-law.”
“Aww!” I can’t help but coo at the thought. “You’ve always felt like family to me, Laken. A true sister.” It’s gospel. Laken is more than a sister to me. She’s my other female half. Speaking of sisters… I give an anxious scan of the periphery for Mia. It’s the night of her fiancé’s debut—the night in which she divulges the identity of the suitor who saw fit to litter her finger with a twist tie. I’m going to return the favor and twist his neck whoever he is. Mia is just a junior in high school, for Pete’s sake. I glance back to Laken, and I recognize that urge to bolt in her eyes. My lack of love toward Wes has made her twitchy, and I hate that. How I miss the days when I could freely disparage Wesley in front of her—and often times she would be the one doing the disparaging. Now she’s just doing Wes.
Chloe pretends to retch. “Gag me with the solidarity.”
A thought comes to me while Chloe whines, subtle as an anvil over the head. “Hey, you think I could come by and check out some of those books? Maybe I really don’t get what Wes is doing because I just don’t understand his people enough. I mean, surely Wes has a good head on his shoulders.” Not for long if Chloe or Demetri has anything to say about it. “I’ll be the first one to say he borders on genius.” Evil genius. “I bet if I saw things his way, it might just change my perspective on things.” Yeah, like I’m going way too easy on the asshole. I bet if I knew what was cooking in that noggin of his, I’d be ten times more motivated to dissolve his soul with a bucket of water.
“Yes!” Laken’s eyes light up with glee. “I would love for you to do that. In fact, I’ll go page by page with you just the way Wes did with me, and you’ll see that what Wesley is doing for our people is nothing but the best provision. Honestly, after listening to him, it sounds as if the Factions have had a hard time communicating for centuries. I really would like to end all this bickering.”
I stare blankly at my old friend. First, lack of communication is putting it mildly. There have been wars, rumors of wars, brutal assaults and death, lots and lots of death. I glance to Chloe. Secondly, I don’t think a read along with Laken would be powerful enough to end all this bickering. Nevertheless, I opt to gift her an amicable smile for the effort.
“I’ll drop by sometime, and if you don’t mind, I’ll bring a couple books of my own. My mother gifted me an entire baby-centered library that covers conception to retirement. She’s a holistic thinker that way.”
Chloe grunts, “She’s baby and boob obsessed.” She shoots Laken a dirty look. “If you dig in the back of my closet, I think I have the crap she gave me still giftwrapped. Have at it, like you’ve had at my clothes and my husband.”
“Why not?” I quip. “All of the above were unwanted by you.” I look to Laken. “I’ll stop by soon.”
“Perfect.” Laken bounces on those glittery stilettos. “I’m going to find Wes and see if he’s up for a quick dance.”
“Oh, he’d love that,” I muse. “The faster, the better. You won’t believe the moves he’s mastered since you’ve remembered him last.” Wesley has two left feet that he loathes to utilize on the dance floor. But then, anything that brings Wesley misery brings me pleasure. How dare he sling his sperm into Laken’s unsuspecting uterus. I’m going to secretly hate him forever for that life-issuing move. But I will love that baby. Truth.
She gives a chortling wave as she melts into the crowd.
“Dance moves? More like night moves,” Chloe corrects. “As much as I like to put Wes down, he does have a way with his tongue.” She bats those demonic doe eyes at me. “Much like your husband.”
My palm connects to her cheek so quickly the sting against my flesh feels like a kiss. Yes, it would feel deeply gratifying to beat the living crap out of Chloe right now. Orgasmic even. God knows I have the rage to do so.
“I knew all that chicks before dicks bullshit would never stick,” I seethe. “I don’t know why I ever bothered to enter into a covenant with you.”
“Ladies.” Marshall steps up, looking his usual dapper self. He’s tall and comely and seems to have a small harem circling him, sighing while tittering amongst themselves. “Do withhold making a scene this evening.” He keeps his gaze focused on the crowd before us. “We’ve much more pressing issues to tend to. Dare I say this is a night—a time in general—where Celestra must rise above any internal differences and exude laser focus on the trial ahead.”
Chloe grunts, “Dumb it down for the blonde or you’ll have to repeat it twice.”
“No.” I shake my head, looking out at the crowd along with him. “Logan said something about others being here. Can you show me?”
Marshall slits the nothingness before him open with his finger, causing the air to shift and move like water. Chloe and I lean in, and a breath gets locked in my throat.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. The room is littered with dark shadowy figures, the frames of enormous men, each one of them with giant rams’ horns curling out of their skulls. But those eyes, neon green, yellow, sanguine as blood. And then there are the sallow looking gentlemen, along with a smattering of women. “Fems and feds,” I whisper.
“Geez,” Chloe hisses. “Check out that one.” She points to the bar at a colossal creature, wings dark as soot, at least twice the size of the others, those eyes, blue as a flame, his horns tip up like a steer’s. My blood runs cold at the sight of him, and a scream gets locked in my throat. Paragon has been inundated with monsters. Hell on Earth has arrived, and it’s here mingling with us at Logan’s party.
We pull back and look to Marshall.
“They’re everywhere.” I shake my head in disbelief.
Chloe clicks her tongue. “No shit, Sherlock, and look who the big bad wolf himself is.” She swats me over the arm until my gaze follows hers to the bar, and there stands Logan and—Gage.
“No,” I whisper. “It couldn’t be.”
“It could.” Marshall takes a breath, and the girth of his chest expands twice as wide. “They’ve come out in number. Something aggressive is afoot. A ceremony perhaps. This is no show-and-tell display by yours truly.” He nods toward Demetri who stands across the way speaking to Mom and Tad. “This is a message, an action, and to my horror, perhaps an act of war.”
War. I can’t bring myself to say that word anymore. It seems as if we’ve been at war ever since I stepped on this island.
Marshall pivots, landing his body just a breath from Chloe and me. “There is no time for disputes.” He looks from her to me as if he were scolding children. “There must be unity. Skyla, we’ll need to meet with the upper echelon as soon as possible.”
By upper echelon, I’m sure he means the Retribution League. I spot Ivan Watts and his wife Vanessa. They’re charter members of the Nephilim Bureau of Investigations that I set up last year to combat Wesley’s wickedness. I figured if Wes had an upper echelon team of Barricade members—the Immunity league, the dream team of evil, then I needed the same for the good guys. Ivan and Vanessa are speaking with Lionel Jenson, the Western Hemisphere representative for Noster. And next to them stand Nicholas Haver and another gentleman I’m not familiar with. Nicholas and I, however, go way back. He’s the original Faction leader here on Paragon. The meetings are always held in an old barn behind his property.
I can’t help but make a face. There’s only so much the Retribution League can do.
“We can’t fight the Fems, Marshall,” I’m quick to point out. “They’re spirits. It’s out of our league. No pun intended.”
“Then you’ll stop the Barricade. Kill, maim, destroy—do what you will. You have no choice in the matter. I don’t care if the entire lot of them are sent to paradise in a single night. Do what you must. It’s for humanity’s sake.”
Chloe shakes her head. “It’s for the Sectors. You are running scared, Marshall Dudley, and all you have to rely on is this little twit.” She balks at the idea. “How you must wish it were me at the helm.”
“Then be there.” He slits his words out with rage. “The two of you will obey my orders. I will not tolerate anarchy. Hesitancy is tantamount to death.” Marshall pierces me with those boiling cauldron eyes, his vengeance sharpened by adrenaline. “Mind my words, Ms. Messenger.”
Chloe chokes on a laugh. “My, it sounds like Mr. Dudley is all done playing nice.”
“That’s right,” he grits the words out, his eyes still pinned on mine. “We are through with nice. We have moved on to exceptionally curt. Do you understand me? Get this under control. No matter what the cost. No matter what the toll on the Factions.” He spots a couple of those dark souls parading around in human skin near the back. “In the meantime, I’ll see what I can glean on my own.” He takes off and leaves an air of icy silence in his wake.
“Wow,” Chloe muses, breathless. “Is there anything hotter than a worked-up Sector? You can bet your shiny white bottom that creature will find me in his bed tonight on all fours with my ponytail ready to be used like a leash. A furious fight will be had, and my vagina will be the victor.”
“Shut up, Chloe.” Note to self: Instruct Marshall that under no circumstance is he to bed a Bishop. Her horny, thorny ways only lead to no good. After she helped herself to Gage’s head, Chloe should be banished from even thinking about having sex again. For sure she won’t have it with my husband or my spirit husband.
“How hard it must be for him to know his kind rests on the shoulders of a millennial caught up in a love triangle.” She shakes her head in his direction, and I’m tempted to smack her again. “Little does he know, half the time he’s speaking, you’re envisioning getting down and dirty with Gage Oliver. You’re so sexed up you don’t have the energy to hold up the universe, let alone assure the Sectors that their post is secure. Does it even faze you to realize you have that much riding on your back?”
“First of all, you’re the one who distracts herself by envisioning getting down and dirty with Gage Oliver. I don’t have to. I can wait for the real deal that will take place in just a few hours. And second of all, you will pay for trying to make that a postmortem reality. And then you will wish that all you had to do was hold up the universe to assure the Sectors of their post.”
Her eyes round out a moment, and I’m sure the terms of our covenant come crashing back to her pretty little empty head. “We’re going to have to work together.” She looks back at the bar where Logan and Gage share a quiet laugh. “He’s going to betray you, Skyla. He’s the enemy’s greatest weapon. They have been fighting this war far longer than any of us have been alive.” She lifts her chin, and the neon lights dance over those scars I gifted her. My own scars are palpable to the touch. “They knew love would be much more potent than hate.” She shakes her head as if it was a pity, and it is. “You will only arrive at your true position of power once you surrender Gage.”
“Says the enemy who would love to steal him. And to think you almost had me going. It could have been a thing of beauty, the two of us working side by side like true Celestra sisters, and yet time and time again you have to go off and kill someone I love—not to mention defile their dead body. That’s a new low, even for you, Chloe.” A small crowd looks our way, but in my defense, I had to shout over the damn music to be heard.
“No.” She shakes her head, but her gaze is adhered firmly over Gage. “You’re going to see that I’m right. And I don’t need Emily Morgan’s Crayola prophecies to prove it. “Gage was never meant for you. Your mother made that clear. He was meant for me.” Her eyes widen at the idea. Her chest pumps as she struggles to catch her breath. “And yet you’ve played directly into Demetri’s hands like lovestruck putty.”
“This is all old news, Chloe.” My heart thumps wildly in my chest. “But the future is malleable. What Gage and I have is true love. We—”
She pulls me in abruptly by the arm, her old arm that I still wear like a badge. “Save it.” She bares her teeth at me. “What Gage and you have is true love. What Logan and you have is true love. What Dudley and you have is true love. I’m so sick of your reverse harem. My God, Skyla, wake up!” she barks caustically in my face, and I can feel my skin quivering from the heft of her voice. “Love is an emotion, and you can’t operate with feelings if you want to save your people. God sacrificed his only son. He robed Him in flesh and watched as He was beaten and pinned to a cross. You don’t think that was a sacrifice? A sacrifice is something you give up for the greater good. In your case, you need to give up your incessant need to fill your vagina—and do it for your people. My people. Had I been the overseer of the Factions—”
I yank my arm free. “You would have what? Given up Gage?” I mock her gleefully. “Please. You would rather have every one of our people beaten and hung than walk away from your singular obsession.”
Her mouth opens as she gags on her response.
“Huh.” I buck a silent laugh. “Didn’t think so.”
She grips me once again, and her fingernails dig into my arm. “Leaving Gage Oliver is not my problem,” she grits it through her teeth, baring her fangs as if she were readying to take a bite. “It’s yours.”
“Whoa.” Gage and Logan appear from out of nowhere, and Gage plucks the demon off me. I can feel my skin prickling where her perverted fingers were and, sure enough, a pimpling of blood appears in its place. “I don’t care what this is about. You don’t get to touch Skyla.”
Chloe takes a full step back and smacks those overblown lips my way. “Of course, you don’t care what this is about. Skyla apparently doesn’t either.” She looks to Logan. “Dudley’s feathers are ruffled with all these Fems infiltrating the grounds. Why are they here?” She shoots an accusatory glance to Gage. “And why did they bring the feds with them?”
Logan looks to the crowd. “Oh shit.” His voice is hardly audible, and we follow his gaze to find a man and a woman striding in—their all to
o familiar faces stopping us cold in our conversation.
“Oh my God.” I grab ahold of Gage’s arm to keep from passing out. Offering the room full of feds pleasant smiles are Gillian Killion and Nylan Moser—the original feds sent to Paragon over a year ago. Gage, Logan, and I watched them die in the woods behind Demetri’s home, eaten by Spectators. “Here they are alive and well.” The neon lights dance over them as they edge their way in this direction, exposing the fact Killion is sporting an enormous belly. “And expecting.”
“Expecting what?” Gage bolts over to them, and we’re quick to follow. “What the fuck.” He doesn’t bother with niceties.
Moser stands there with his wide shoulders, pasty face, elongated skull, and lantern jaw. He looks every bit himself. And Killion stands strong with her crimson locks pulled back into a tight bun à la Emma and her lips painted a bright shade of crimson. They’re both dressed business casual with Killion draped in a navy tent.
Moser lifts his chin, no expression. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
Killion bleeds a slow smile as she looks to me. “Skyla Oliver. How ever are you doing, dear?” Her hands round over her belly. “What memories we share. And look? I’m in the exact position you were in not too long ago. How are your boys? I would love to see them.” Those dark eyes of hers pin to mine, and a cold shiver runs through me.
“You think they’re Fems?” I ask Gage, breathless.
Logan steps in boldly and inspects them up close. “I know they are, and I should take this to the Justice Alliance. This isn’t right.” He looks to Gage. “We can’t let them parade around Paragon. We need to get them out of here before—”
“Holy shit!” one of the suits shouts from behind, and in an instant both Killion and Moser are surrounded with enough federal agents to conduct a coup in the White House.
We stumble to the side and watch as the feds whisk them toward the door and out into the night.