“Is that all it takes?” I snap. “A little demanding?”
“On occasion.” My mother swallows down a laugh as her lips curl on the sides. “Sometimes it just takes asking nicely. I would have thought you knew better.”
“And I would have thought you knew better than to pluck me from an intimate moment with my boyfriend.”
“Your boyfriend was aggressively procuring intimate relations with someone outside of the bonds of a covenant—with my daughter no less.” Her nostrils flare as she glowers at me.
“Is that what this is about? Just because two people want to have sex with each other doesn’t mean they have to do something drastic like get married.”
“It is the very reason.” Her voice cuts through Ahava like a straight razor.
“But Coop and Laken—”
“We’re not talking about Coop and Laken, we’re talking about you and him.”
“His name is Gage.” I toss my hands up in frustration. “God, you can’t even say his name.” I get up in her face. “Gage, Gage, Gage.”
She pinches her eyes shut a moment as if she were in pain. “Here.” She tosses my necklace over to me with the protective hedge and Logan’s mirrored heart clanking against one another. “It looks like you’re forgetting important things—important people.”
“I know you preferred, Logan.” I soften into her while pulling the necklace over my head. “I get it. But he’s gone, remember?” My mother openly gave Logan her blessing then proceeded to let him die. Typical. “But you know what? I love Gage. I love Gage, deeply.” I take in a breath and hold it because I know what I’m about to say next. “In fact, I’m going to do everything I can to keep Gage safe—alive.”
“You’ll never succeed.” She closes her eyes, and the light in all of Ahava dims for a moment.
“Watch me.”
“And how are you going to do this?”
“You’re in charge, you tell me.” And I’m hoping she will.
“I am in charge.” She gives a sly smile. “I’m in charge of knowledge, civilized societies—mathematics.”
“That’s funny because I sure as heck didn’t inherit your math gene.” Marshall can attest to that.
“You did, but you never utilized it, so it went underdeveloped. You, Skyla, can do anything you set your mind to.”
Is she suggesting I can actually save Gage?
“I can’t eat a car.”
“You can if you put it in a blender one piece at a time and make a smoothie out of it. Where is your creativity, dear girl?”
“I’m a woman.”
“Then act like one.”
A burst of adrenaline rushes through me at the thought of saving Gage—of having Gage for the rest of my life right by my side.
“You’re saying I can do this.” And, in a fraction of a second, I suddenly feel responsible for Logan’s death—far more responsible than Chloe ever was. What I’m about to do is far more personal. Chloe murdered him out in the open, and here I am killing him in secret—saying that we can never have our time together because I refuse to let Gage die. Ezrina bounces through my mind as a thought comes to me, but I shelve it for later.
Her eyes narrow in, the same washed blue as mine. “Do you know who Gage is?”
“Yes. We’re very close. He’s my soul mate, and I don’t have it in me to let anybody else die. If I can stop it, I will.”
“Do you wish to be his bride?” Her eyes soften, as if she were about to tell me a very sad story.
“Yes. More than anything.”
Her hand rests gently over the back of my head. “Would you love Gage without the restraints of your world or the next?”
“Of course.” Not that I’m fully grasping the celestial spin she’s putting on it, but I think I get it. This is her way of letting her baby girl go.
She narrows in on me disapprovingly. “Despite any false pretenses that may have presented themselves?”
“I plan on loving Gage no matter what the circumstances are in our life. This is it—the two of us forever—the way it was prophesied from the beginning.”
“Prophesied by you?”
“By Gage.” I avert my eyes at her head games. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have the gift of prophecy.”
“What makes you so sure he does?” She brushes me away with the flick of her wrist. “Nevertheless, I see you’re determined to bind yourself to him forever.”
“And how does forever fit in with Gage dying?”
“In God’s arms, forever in our heart’s—time heals all wounds and all that good stuff. Take your pick, mix and match. I’m sure you’ll find some adage to make you feel better once the time comes. Now, be gone. I’m having dinner with your father. I’ll be sure to fill him in on your intentions with what’s-his-name. And you, my love, have your first appointment as the overseer.”
Ahava shifts beneath my feet, and I’m transported to a cave-like dwelling lit up with a roaring fire, as tall and violent as a tornado twisting in the back. A circular stone table is set near a wall of rushing water, and it’s only then I realize I’ve been here before. This is the cavern behind the waterfalls, right here in Ahava. The exact place where the faction war came to a close—and that is the exact fire I walked through to secure the win for Celestra. Marshall was with me then.
“I’m here with you now.” He appears by my side just as I note dozens of people seated around the enormous table. Marshall holds out an empty crystalline chair, and I’m quick to take it while he sinks down next to me.
Nicholas Haver sits across from us. He’s the guy that runs the faction meetings back on Paragon—not that I was ever really allowed at those since I’m not on the flip side of thirty, but, well, here I am right where destiny wanted me all along.
He pounds a ruby gavel into the stone, and the entire room vibrates with the ricochet.
“Welcome to the Council of the Superiors. Representatives of the factions, state your presence.”
“Noster.” A tall, moody looking woman calls from my right. Her dark hair has a blue cast, and her lipstick is just this side of black. Cool—Noster has a Goth representing.
“Deorsum.” A redheaded gentleman with a lisp speaks up, making it sound more like Deorthum in the process. He’s adorable. I already like him. “What are you looking at, blondie?” He snaps right at me.
Crap. It looks like Emma isn’t the only one of her kind that can’t stand the sight of me.
“Celestra,” I say, proud.
“Levatio.” I look over at the familiar sounding voice and spot Dr. Booth. He gives me a tiny smile, and I wave back.
“Countenance.” A thick voice booms from the left, and a stocky older gentleman nods at me with a greasy smile.
He looks unfamiliar, but then, so are ninety percent of the people here.
Nicholas conducts the meeting with little fanfare. Levatio asks permission to collect a global fund from their people to make repairs to half their faction halls.
“Skyla?” Nicholas holds his gavel midair.
“Oh.” I jump a little in my seat. “Sure, that’s fine.”
Nicholas crashes the ruby hammer to the stone, and the cave shakes and thunders. “Until we meet again, may the factions live forever. What says one, what says you all?”
And in concert every last person in the room says, amen.
That was it? I find it hard to believe I fought a war for that. I find it reprehensible that Logan lost his life right here on this very spot so I could one day green-light some construction project. It feels like a slap in the face. But, then, knowing my mother, this was all probably just a ruse. Something big is brewing. I can feel it in my creaky bones.
Nicholas Haver stares me down as if he heard every word. He gives a slight nod as if affirming my theory.
The ethereal plane lights up like a flare. Ahava dissipates into a thousand translucent molecules, and we all disappear.
I jolt awake in my bed, safe on Paragon with Brielle st
artling to life beside me.
“Holy crap, Messenger.” She smacks me in the face with a pillow. “You fucking gave me a heart attack.”
There’s a mean chill in the air, and instinctually I glance back to see if the window is open, but it’s not.
“What are you doing here?” God, it’s freezing. I pull myself out of bed and proceed to pile on enough sweats to keep a hairless cat warm in the Arctic. This house has been an icebox for the last few weeks, and right now it feels as though we’re sitting in an igloo.
“Just hanging loose.” Her lids grow heavy as if she were downcast, which, in and of itself, would be a minor miracle for Bree. “Drake is out with Em. He said something about a bachelor party.”
“Nice.” He’s such a douche.
Brielle inspects me from head to toe with my ridiculous mismatched layers.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Brielle doesn’t mince words.
“My sweatshirt.” I pluck at it. “And a T-shirt and a couple of tank tops, plus sweats.”
“Skyla.” Her face contorts with disgust. “You know you can’t dress like that around Gage. He’s going to think you’re purposely trying to scare him off.”
“But it’s freezing at night.” I slip on my ultra thick, comfy socks with the cushioned insides and stretch them up to my knees. “And I like to tuck my pants in my socks like this.” I don’t hesitate demonstrating, and she jerks back as if I’ve just committed some cotton-based felony. “It’s not my fault Tad never turns on the heat in this stupid house. Blame him for my nighttime fashion faux pas.” I shrug and switch off the light. “Besides, Gage won’t mind. He loves me.”
“Judging by all the layers he’s going to have to peel off to get to you, I’d say it’ll be a good long while before he loves you.”
“Yeah, well, guess who saw a certain Oliver hanging loose for the very first time.” I give a soft bounce over the mattress.
Brielle seizes my arm with a death grip. “You did it?”
“Not exactly. But things progressed.”
“Details.”
“Well, first we pretended we didn’t know each other, and that I was some hussy he was stepping out on his baby mama with.” Crap, I just mocked Brielle’s love life without meaning to.
“Role playing.” She considers this a moment. “I like it.”
“Then he whisked me off to some abandoned room and slammed me onto the bed.”
“Gage as the sexy barbarian? Brielle likey.” She lets out a little purr. “So what happened next?”
“That’s where things get confusing. I mean we were all over each other, and, well, you see, I couldn’t quite understand when…” I take a breath. “At first glance I thought, how did he get his foot up there? Then I thought, my God, is that my foot? Then all kinds of crazy things went through my mind like maybe it’s his hand—his freaking arm, but—”
“What the hell are you babbling about, Messenger?” Brielle sounds more than worried for me. “Oh my, God, you saw his baseball bat!” She sucks in a lungful of air. “So I guess it really is that big.” She goes to high five me and accidentally smacks me in the face. “Oops, sorry!”
“Crap.” My head rings like a gong. “Goodnight, Brielle.” I roll over and get comfy on my pillow.
“Wait we were just getting to the good part.”
“I thought so, too.”
But it turns out the good part involves a covenant.
I’m ready, though. I’ve been ready for a good long while.
In the morning, Brielle and I head downstairs where melee and chaos reign. Toys are scattered haphazard all over the family room, the kitchen table is covered with cereal as if a Cheerios laden piñata exploded overhead. Mia and Melissa busy themselves arguing over who’ll do the mountain of dishes, and I can’t help but notice the house looks as if it were ransacked.
“What’s going on?” I ask, half afraid I might actually get an answer.
A hard groan comes from the couch, and I turn to find Mom struggling to get up with Misty nursing on one side and Beau sleeping in her arm on the other.
“You could put one down, you know,” I say. “It’s not a felony.” Neither is feeding them with a bottle, but I’ll keep my mouth shut about that for now.
I take Beau from her and place him gently on the couch only to have him break out into a shrill scream.
Mom gasps as if a hacking spree is taking place. “Quick—give him back.” She motions spastically until I replace the crying babe right where I found him. “He’s hitting that jealous phase, and the only way to get through this is to show them an equal amount of attention.” She shoves her face in his. “You are amazing!” She belches it out at the top of her lungs. “You are the smartest little boy on this planet!” Her voice reverberates over him until his flesh ripples from the assault.
“Would you knock that off? He’s going to be hard of hearing by the time he’s out of diapers.” I reach down and stroke his fine hair. “Besides, Misty’s an infant. Beau is a toddler. He can walk to the fridge and get his own drink for Pete’s sake.”
Mom rolls her eyes. I glance to Bree for help, but, ironically, she chooses to remain silent on the heated debate involving her offspring.
“Don’t worry, Skyla.” Mom hoists herself up with the two of them latched onto her body. “You’ll see when you’re a mother how important it is to keep serenity and balance in your life. It’s the quickest route to making sure you have happy children.” Beau gives an ear-piercing howl on cue, as she bounces him on her hip. “So what are you girls up to today? Any big plans for the weekend?”
“Just hanging out.” I shrug. Mia catches my eye. “With my little sis, if she’ll have me.”
“Really Skyla?” Mia’s eyes enlarge like she actually thinks it’s a good idea. Had it been three short months ago I’d swear she was mocking me, but ever since I’ve been elected as the overseer of the factions, she’s informed me at least twelve times a day that I’m the bomb-dot-com. Although I’m not sure anything that happened at the faction meeting has me qualifying for any bomb-worthy title. Sitting in on that meeting was like eating a stack of plain pancakes. It was delicious, but, deep down, it felt like something was missing.
“Yeah, really. We have things to catch up on.” I give a little wink because she hinted a couple weeks ago there were pressing issues we needed to discuss. I’d bet every shoe in my closet that those pressing issues all involve boys. I hate to be the one to break it to her but at her age, boys aren’t worth the trouble. If I were Mia, I’d steer clear of both testosterone and the Chloe Bishops of the world. That seems to be the safest route out of high school in general—unless, of course, Logan or Gage are exuding said testosterone. Marshall blinks through my mind. Or him.
“We’ve got practice.” Melissa is quick to remind her.
“Oh, I’ll take you!” Bree offers. “I’m assisting Chloe, so in a way I’m your new cheer coach, too.” She gives a demonstrative hop when she says it.
“Brielle.” I shake my head. How many times do I have to remind her that we hate Chloe?
Crap. I can’t believe I had a powwow with my mother and forgot to bring up the ungrateful dead. I’ll have to see about getting back to Ahava ASAP to deal with the bitchy Bishop. This madness has to end. Chloe cannot be in our lives another single second.
Bree touches her fingers to her lips. “Oh, did you want to help, too? I’m sure Chloe won’t mind.”
Drake and Em walk in and save Brielle from the early morning slap in the face I was about to supply her with. The truth is, there are no words to adequately relay to Brielle how disappointed I am that she just doesn’t get it.
“Morning.” Emily runs her fingers through her dark curls, her face set in its permanent scowl. “Thanks for offering to watch, Ember. I think I’m ready to start my life again.”
“Yeah.” Drake slaps his bare stomach. Dear God, save me. The only thing that boy has on are a pair of boxers and his oversized ego. I still don’t see w
hat either Em or Brielle see in him. This entire love triangle makes no sense. “If anyone belongs at Host, it’s Em.”
Mom looks stymied by the conversation. “Who’s watching Ember?”
The room grows strangely quiet. Em does belong at Host. She’s a brainiac if ever there was one. She was the valedictorian of our senior class.
Those parties she hosted last year at her haunted house run through my mind. Em’s family room with its scary dragon’s head stains my brain, and I can’t help feel there’s some creepy connection between that dragon and the one on Host.
“Hey,” I hiss to myself. That strange dragon’s head happens to have the same creepy ruby eyes, same ferocious serpentine look as Host’s own Omen.
I scoot into Drake while Em sketches something out on a napkin for Brielle. Probably exchanging notes on positions they find to their master’s liking.
“Why does Emily belong at Host?” I whisper.
“Me first.” Mom pulls me back by the elbow. “Who said I was watching Ember?”
“Sorry, I may have alluded to it.” I step back in front of Drake as he’s about to pluck a cereal box from the shelf. “What the hell is up with Host?”
Drake pauses from his early morning ritual of selecting just the right amount of empty calories to start off his day.
“Skyla,” Mom hisses because clearly she’s not in the mood to add to her brood. “Thank you.” She softens. “It means a lot that you believe in me like that.” She clears her throat while looking at Emily. “I can’t wait to watch baby Ember for you. The more, the merrier.” Her voice wavers as she bites down on her lip.
“Mom, please, if you’re not up to this, just say no.” It’s clear Mom is going to yes herself into an early grave, and, technically, it would have been me who put her there since I’m the one who volunteered her services to begin with.
“I’ve got this,” she assures as Beau yanks her top up and burrows in for a quick sip.
God, I can’t even watch anymore.
“About Host”—I growl into Drake—“spill.”