I step in and find Logan sitting with Nev.
“Rough night?” He growls it out. Logan doesn’t bother with hello. His clothes looked rumpled. His voice sounds like gravel, and he’s grumpy. I’m guessing he’s the one who had the rough night.
Nev narrows in on me. “He said there was a disgusting uproar at the Oliver residence last night. He refuses to elaborate.”
Shit.
“Nice,” I whisper. As if I didn’t feel like a jackass already for possibly housing Fem DNA in my body. “Look, I have to get to the Transfer. Anyone up for heading to hell for a few minutes?”
“To hell with you is right,” a voice booms from behind, and I turn to find Dudley standing there, dry as a bone. “You’re no longer welcome in my home, be gone.” He tosses up a finger as if to dematerialize me, but I hold out my hand, and a beam of light charges the space between us—nothing but a clean line of cobalt blue.
“Shit.” Logan jumps over the sofa and lands by my side. “How the hell did you do that?”
Nobody moves. Nobody breathes because I have a feeling everyone in this room knows exactly how I did that.
“So it’s true?” Logan’s jaw pops like he might kick my ass, and, swear to God, if it is true, I might just join him.
“It’s not true.” I choke on the words. “Let’s get to the Transfer and see what the hell Wes has to say. It’s obvious Demetri is playing with smoke and mirrors, and I want to know why.”
Logan holds his gaze to mine without saying anything for a minute.
“All right man.” He clasps his hand down over my shoulder and pulls me into a partial hug. “Let’s get some answers.”
Ezrina and Nev each place a hand on my back as if we were about to beg God, himself, for mercy over my soul. Dudley shouts something in another language, and the walls crumble—Paragon turns to ash and reconfigures itself as the dark underworld of the Transfer.
The lights are out in the long, white tunnel that once housed Ezrina’s chop shop. The dry desert landscape of the Transfer is blooming with a forest of tall, dark trees. Their nefarious bark is charred with red veining as if the roots were soaked in blood. The dilapidated mansion where Skyla was once held is overshadowed with a stone grey castle looming just behind it, eclipsing the mansion of its haunted glory.
Steel-colored vines coil around the base of the gargantuan structure with foot-long thorns spiking along the infernal plant. My eyes adjust to the dim light of the lavender moon, and the dappled spots that run along the border of the overgrown fortress come into focus as black roses.
“Garbage begets garbage,” Ezrina gravels out.
“Roses,” I whisper, staggering toward the monolithic tower. I’ve been dreaming of roses, seeing petals rain like blood from the sky, but I don’t say anything.
Dudley knots up the back of my shirt with his fist and propels us forward until we’re at the double doors that swing out like a pair of oversized coffins.
“Get the hell off.” I jam my elbow into his gut, and he groans.
Logan comes up beside me as we walk right into the dank establishment. “What do you know?” he whispers.
“I know I have some bogus DNA results that link me directly to that asshole.” I point over at Wesley who’s quickly making his way toward us—Chloe and her dark smile flank him on his right.
Wes doesn’t say a word. He stands square in front of me, and we exchange a death stare.
“Identical genetic markers?” Ezrina circles around Logan to get a better look at me.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Oh, Gage.” Chloe reaches for my cheek with those long, bony fingers.
“Don’t touch me.” I grit through my teeth, and she retracts her hand as if I had slapped her away.
“What do you know about this?” I ask the moron wearing my face. “It’s clear this is some cosmic joke your father decided to pull out of his ass. But what I don’t get is how both you and I fit into this picture.”
“You’re a little slow on the uptake aren’t you, little bro?” Wes twitches a smile.
“Oliver.” Dudley moans as if he were desperately sorry. He places his hand on my shoulder from behind. “Do what’s best and part from Skyla immediately.”
Little bro. Part from Skyla. The words rattle through the air like a dead man’s bones.
“Gage”—Chloe closes in the gap between Wes and me, but I don’t take my eyes off the bastard—“I’ve got your back. It will never matter to me that you are a Fem.”
A Fem. Her words wash over me, welcome as a blowtorch. My mind explodes in a flurry as if she had just kicked in a beehive. Voices resonate around me at once, and I can’t make them out, can’t understand what the fuck anybody is saying.
Wes and those electric green eyes stay posted on mine, and I lunge past Chloe and wrap my hands around his neck. Only one thing can make this nightmare go away—ending the day with the blood of this monster on my hands.
I knock him to the ground and thrash his skull into the stone covered floor.
Arms snatch at me, trying to loosen me off his person, but my fingers dig into his flesh. His eyes bulge like grapes. His grimace tightens as I watch this perverse version of myself succumb to my own rage.
“Leave them be.” A voice resonates through the chaos, cuts right through to my bones—Demetri.
I thrash Wes to the floor so hard his head gives a satisfying bounce. I climb to my feet, and Wes does the same as the two of us focus in on the demon before us.
Demetri bleeds a slow smile as if he were pleased with the scene.
I try to jump forward in an effort to kick the shit out of the bastard, but Logan holds me back.
“What the fuck is going on!” I roar it out like a lion on fire, and my voice echoes through this wicked chamber as if we were locked in the bowels of hell itself.
Demetri jerks his head back a notch, that shit-eating grin still playing on his lips. “Denial only prolongs the inevitable. You know exactly what’s happened.”
I shake Logan off and turn toward Ezrina. “Could he have faked the genetic markers?”
She lowers her lids to the floor. Her shoulders slump with defeat. “Never.”
“Then it’s true?” I ask, but Ezrina has clammed up for now. Dudley catches my eye, and a thought comes to me. My heart soars because a ray of light just blew through it. “Dudley would never have let me near Skyla if this were true. It’s got to be a joke—some elaborate scheme to— ” I look over at Dudley, and he lifts his chin.
“I’m sorry, Oliver. This has been withheld from me for a reason. There’s nothing more I’d care for than to tell you this were not so.”
“Chloe?” I turn to her in a moment of madness and despair. “Tell me it’s not true.”
Her eyes widen. That dark hair she wears like a curtain blows back as if she’s claiming dominance.
I charge at Demetri with my hands ready to wrap around his dead little neck, and the Transfer and all of its wickedness dissolves in an instance.
Logan
The bowling alley holds a distinct odor that’s about as pleasant as a locker room filled with sweaty gym socks.
“Dude.” I shake Gage by the arm to bring him to. His face is bleached out, his eyes fixed ahead as if he’s turned to stone. “We’re back on Paragon—at the bowling alley. Just like old times, right?”
He nods toward the entrance as Brielle bops in with her hair swinging in a ponytail. She’s high on life, per usual.
“My two favorite guys!” She runs at us a million miles an hour and tackle hugs us at the same time. “Well, technically, Drake and Beau are my two favorite guys but you two are old school that way.” She relents from her stranglehold and looks at Gage. “Where’s Skyla? Or should I say Mrs. Oliver?” She jumps back with her hand over her mouth like she might have let the cat out of the bag.
“It’s okay, I know. I’m happy about it, too.” And I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I spot Ellis trekking in from the rain as he tak
es over the counter. Personally, I’m shocked as hell that Harrison has proven so damn responsible. And with Giselle bringing in over half of West Paragon after school, this place is finally starting to break even. Who knew that Ellis and Giselle would be the shot in the arm this place needed? “What’s new with you?” I try to take the weight off what just happened by focusing on Bree. God knows she’s chock full of goofy news.
“Well, I’m glad you asked. Drake wants to know if we can sell his T-shirts at the bowling alley. We already have thirteen small businesses that have said yes.” She gives a vigorous nod as if trying to strong-arm me into an agreement.
“No.” I pinch my lips. “Maybe. Bring ten, and we’ll see how it goes, but I get twenty percent of the cut.”
“Logan!” She whines.
“It’s not negotiable.” I hold my arms open, and Brielle gives me another heartfelt hug before running back out the door. “Dude”—I turn to Gage—“you okay?”
“I’m shit.” His lake blue eyes dart into mine, and I want to cry because it can’t be true. Gage is more than my nephew—he’s my brother in every sense of the word. “I’ve got to go somewhere.” He runs his fingers through his hair.
“You’re not going anywhere.” I pull his arm down until he looks at me. “You’re going to settle the hell down, and pretend like this afternoon never happened until we get more answers. We know just enough to be dangerous.”
“You think the Counts are playing some wicked game?”
“I don’t know. But, until I figure out how the hell this happened, I’m not going to hit the panic button. You’re still you. You love Skyla, and she loves you right back.”
“I’m a Fem.” He lets the words glide through his lips, and I watch as they slip around his neck like a noose. “I was created in hopes that I’d have children with Skyla one day so Demetri’s fucked up lineage could claim dominion. I think we have all the answers we need.” He shakes my hand off his arm. “Feel free to hit the panic button.”
Crap. “We need to talk to Skyla’s mother—and your mother. We need to figure out why the Decision Council would allow this to happen. Something is up. Skyla is bound to be with Dudley, she’s got a future with me, and you—well, if you’re what they say you are, then that allows three different beings an opportunity to create a lineage with a perfect Celestra.”
Gage scans the floor as if the answers are falling at his feet, out of order, and he’s desperately piecing them together.
“Skyla’s not quite a perfect Celestra—her mother is a Caelestis.”
“She’s the perfect celestial being.” I nod.
“So you think this collision course of bloodlines isn’t just some coincidence.”
“I think this collision course of bloodlines is evidence a whole new generation of beings are about to spring forth.” Right through Skyla’s uterus, but I leave that part out.
“Skyla is the key.” Gage closes his eyes a moment. “Dudley is the Sector’s solution to dominion—you’re Celestra’s new hope—and I’m the link to darkness.”
I don’t say anything.
It’s hard to contest him when he’s right.
13
Tears Over Paragon
Skyla
The fog settles over Host, haunting and languid, as if an entire legion of ghosts were strolling through the island. After my final class of the day, I head over to Gage where we usually meet—directly under the behemoth statue of Omen with his bloody, fixed gaze, a bronze fire shooting from his mouth, and I try not to soak in the irony.
Gage bursts into life through the dismal mist, and I hasten to my beautiful husband, wrapping my arms around him so tight, I momentarily forget the entire twisted conversation I had with Dudley earlier.
Gage is no dragon. Half the time I wonder if Marshall knows what the hell he’s talking about.
“I missed you.” I press a kiss just shy of his ear. His hair is covered with dew, and each tiny drop looks like a world of its own. I run my fingers through the slicked gloss.
The bronze rose wedged under the dragon’s foot snags my attention. I had seen it—inspected it at least a dozen times in that mural on the side of the Student Union and never thought anything of it until now. The dragon and the rose. I shake the thought away.
I look back up at Gage with his dark beauty that commands so much attention against the grey day—his eyes alone bring the color to our monochromatic world.
“I have a surprise for you,” I say, biting down a smile.
I take him by the hand and run him through the tiny streets, past throngs of bicycles, past the never-ending stream of students plodding to their respective dorms and apartments with their backpacks wafting in and out of the fog.
“Okay, you’re not going to believe this.” I pant as we cross the street to our new home. Thankfully the satanic three have deserted their post, and the fog has softened the graffiti on the side of the building to the point it resembles a muted bruise. The entire island is roaring with voices and errant laughter, so, hopefully, Gage won’t think too much of the nonstop death metal blaring from the apartment beneath us. “What’s the one thing we need more than anything in this world?” I ask, leading him up the steps at an accelerated pace. I’m hoping he wont notice the fact it smells as if every cat on the island has marked this staircase by way of pissing on it. I pause just shy of our new apartment and pull him in.
Gage doesn’t say a word. He simply stares deep into my eyes as if he were silently offering an apology.
“Hey, you’re quiet. Is something wrong?” I tighten my grip over him and gaze up at his serious navy eyes, those lips that have yet to crack a smile.
He lets out a sigh and plants a soft kiss over my mouth. “Everything feels right when I’m with you.”
“Ditto.” I trace his lips out with my finger, and a wave of sadness melts over me. I suck in a quick breath and banish all thoughts of dragons and roses out of my mind. I’m not dwelling on a single thing until I talk to my mother. “I think you’d better pick me up.” I turn the knob and let the door squeak its way open. Ellis said he’d get a locksmith out in the morning for us. “I prefer to be carried over the threshold.”
“What’s this?” His brows arch in confusion as if he’s just coming to. He glances around at the landscape as if we’ve somehow appeared from out of nowhere.
“This”—I hold my hands out as if offering a prize—“is our new apartment. Morley Harrison is our new landlord, and the first month is free—so it was kind of hard to turn down.”
A smile cinches over his face—first one in the last fifteen minutes. “This is our place?”
“This is it.” My heart begins to race because we’ve just hit another milestone in our budding relationship—a home of our own. “I hope you don’t mind I went ahead—”
Gage doesn’t let me finish. He scoops me into his strong arms and twirls me into the apartment with a molten hot kiss.
“I don’t mind.” A fierce moan growls out of him, animalistic and primal as his kisses grows that much hungrier. “I’m just sorry I didn’t think of it first.”
“Gage.” I lock my wrists around his neck and land myself back on my feet. “Can you believe it? Thirty days, no Landon house, no—” I stop shy of singling Emma out. “Never mind, it’s just you and me.” I glide my fingers down his body and sink my hands into the back pocket of his jeans. “How about we implement a rule? No talking about anybody else other than me and you inside these walls.”
“Deal.” His lips land on mine, slow and deliberate. Gage takes his time, sweeping his tongue over mine, achingly slow and sad as a eulogy.
My phone buzzes in my jean pocket, gyrating between us. I scoop it out only to see Mom flash at the top of the screen.
Dinner at six tonight. Emma and Barron will be joining us. You will be there.
“You will be there?” I give a soft laugh. “My mom has a serious case of sleep deprivation, plus it takes her five months to compose a text. I’m sure she
meant will you be there.”
“Of course we’ll be there.” He peppers my face with airsoft kisses.
“But it’s our first night.” I look up at him hoping he’ll forfeit the family style sit down for our own family style celebration—the kind that takes place under the sheets. Not that we have sheets.
“We can catch the last ferry.” Gage touches his finger to my cheek, the look of absolute sadness igniting in his eyes. “Dinner with our families sounds nice.”
“Nice? Tad will be there.” I’m quick to remind him. And Emma. Did I mention Emma?
“Trust me, Tad is the least of my worries,” he mutters under his breath. Gage steps back. “Look at this place.” A grin blooms on his face as he slaps a hand over the dusty purple couch. The carpet is the color of rust. The kitchen is bare bones with white enameled cabinets and a counter the size of my laptop.
“Ellis helped me get a mattress for the bedroom, but, other than that, we’re on our own.”
“On our own.” Gage pulls me in and buries his face in the crook of my neck. He inhales, taking in my scent and brushes careful kisses all the way down to my collarbone. He pulls back and lands his watery blue eyes over mine. “I love you, Skyla. Could you ever believe anything else?”
I blink into Gage and his curious words.
“No Gage, I couldn’t.”
“Dinner,” I scoff as Gage and I walk into to the Landon house. “Don’t worry, I’ve already amassed a list of things I plan on taking home with us.” I give his hand a playful yank until his dimples go off. Gage was unusually quiet on the way over, and when I asked if anything was wrong, he mentioned he was just a little out of it today.
“Come here.” He pulls me toward the staircase. The sound of happy voices emanates from the dining room, and I try to ignore then momentarily. Barron and Emma’s sedan is out front, so we already know they’re here. “Do you know how much I love you, Skyla?” His forehead creases as he echoes the words he said to me at the apartment.