“Celestra,” I whisper.
“He’s a murderer.” Gage steps in wide-eyed and dazed. “I’m a part of this.”
Shit.
“No Gage. This is ages of killings. It’s just that now they’re flaunting it. This has nothing to do with you.”
“It has nothing to do with either of you.” Dudley steps out of the fog like an apparition, his eyes transfixed on the horror. “This is where the New Moon festival will be held Sunday night. It will be a ceremony like no other. A shift of power is about to transpire.”
Skyla steps out of the fog behind him, her chest expands with a breath locked in her lungs. She holds out her hands toward the gruesome sight as if her whole body were issuing an apology. A nest of lightning appears from nowhere and crowns the top of the macabre sculpture. It touches down over the top of the skeletal skyscraper and ignites each one of those skulls a brilliant shock of blue. The lightning spears out toward Skyla and her head knocks back as a blast of light illuminates her from the inside in one atomic blast. Skyla rockets into the air and floats above the tower of skulls with her arms spreads wide, her head cocked, eyes closed. She rotates and spins in a spectacular flash, ten thousand times brighter than the sun.
Then in a clap of thunder, she disappears.
16
Now or Never
Skyla
A pain so viral, so necessary, explodes through each cell in my body—snapping and sizzling along my nerves like a blowtorch. They say pain is a good thing—a warning to let you know something is very fucking wrong. My heart aches in my chest to the point of collapse, every inch of my flesh is alive and on fire. I’m pulling through time as far back as the first Celestra abduction—and watch as a girl runs through the familiar woods of Paragon. Her long, blonde hair trails in the wind. Her eyes mirror the sky, and, alarmingly, she looks a lot like me. I bear witness to one abduction after another until it’s nothing more than a dizzying blur. I see them all—feel their dread as if a part of me were locked in their bodies. A virulent terror drills through me. Then, in a moment of unrivaled agony, I experience their demise right along with them. Their final pleas for mercy fall on deaf ears—their appeals for justice go unfulfilled.
The visions come in flashes—in jags, in one torrential downpour of misery and grief until the tower of skulls I float above—the Tenebrous Woods, it all disappears.
“Laken,” I murmur as I come to.
An elongated black and white checkered hall forms around me. I’m slumped against a cold marble wall, struggling to get a hold of my senses.
A trail of necrotic rose petals scatter down the hall, and the familiar cackle of a girl emanates from the same direction.
Chloe. I’d recognize that wicked laugh anywhere, especially here in the bowels of hell.
I take off down the hall. It’s not until I’m in the center of the checkered expanse do I realize where I am. I’ve been here before. This is the tower where Logan and I were held by the Counts.
“Shit,” I whisper, looking at the long series of doors that span all the way down the corridor, each without a handle. “This is it.” I lay my palm over the first one I see. “Laken?” I give a little knock. “Is anybody in there?”
“Help me!” A female voice calls from inside.
The doors around me begin to bounce, each with someone inside begging to let them out. The horrible drumming of their fists lights up the hall, and I cover my ears because I can’t help a single one of these poor souls. I’m useless—a lame duck in a position of power that can’t move an ant out of these God forsaken tunnels.
“Skyla? Is that you?” Chloe calls from a distance. I look up to find her scurrying over. “Dear God, you’ve incited a riot.” She gives a perverse giggle still ensconced in her morbid funeral attire with petals raining to the ground as if they too were trying to escape her presence.
“Chloe, please help me free these people. I helped you, remember?”
“You helped me? Oh, yes, extending my ‘leash’ as you so elegantly put it.” She wrinkles her nose. Chloe has always had a biting beauty, but since her expulsion from her proper form, she seems to have magnified her wicked allure. And, not surprisingly, it doesn’t change the fact she’s rotten to the core.
The desperation of the prisoners’ thunders around us as the noise increases in volume.
Chloe gives a wretched smile as if she might be sick. “Enough!” She roars so loud the horrible thundering decreases in an instance.
“Those are people, Chloe,” I plead for her to understand. “Is there some way you can be bribed to help shut down these tunnels?” I can’t believe I’m looking to Chloe like she’s some sort of saving grace, but in the event she is, it doesn’t hurt to ask. I’m that desperate.
“Laken is this way.” She sashays down the hall, rocking her hips back and forth like this were a catwalk in Milan.
“You still didn’t answer the question.”
“Her room.” Chloe lays her hand over the door, and snatches me by the wrist with the other. My eyes sting for a moment then readjust as the walls lose their ability to conceal what’s behind them. “Believe it or not, I had grown attached to that Noster eye you gifted me.” She smacks her overblown lips together. “Wes was kind enough to replicate the gift, now that you’ve taken my body away and gave it to that stupid witch.”
Ezrina is anything but stupid, but I’m not up for arguing with Chloe. Instead, I’m mesmerized, looking straight through the door, and into the room where Laken sits on her knees, her head bent in prayer.
“Laken, it’s me Skyla.” I pound my fists over the door. “Chloe, you have to help me.” I claw at the door in an effort to get inside.
“Laken isn’t going anywhere.” Chloe smacks me away. “She doesn’t want to leave. She made a deal with Wes.”
“No.” I shake my head at the thought, my stomach ready to vomit. “What kind of deal—do you know?”
“She wanted the whole damn place shut down.” Chloe throws my hand back. “She’s altruistic like you in that sense.”
“But the tunnels are still running.” A smile tries to cinch up my lips because I can take Wes to court for breaking a covenant and taking a false prisoner. Of course, my mother will most likely say its null and void but it’s a nice thought. “He didn’t fulfill his end of the deal.”
“Believe me, they bartered. And he was quick to comply for his little Lakey-Poo.” She shoves her finger down her throat and gags.
“What?” That mountain of skulls runs through my mind. “Oh, God.”
“Oh yes, those that were too ill to leave, didn’t. He sent the ravagers to suck them dry. Trust me, they were thankful. We’re talking deathbed action. It was mercy at its finest.” Chloe offers a peaceable smile because she’s heartless that way. “She wanted the whole operation to close up shop, but there was no way he could give in to that demand. Anyway, she begged for those who were suffering most to be released, and he made good on his promise. And—she begged for the children.” She averts her eyes as if it were ridiculous. “He did that, too.”
“He did what?” I dig my hand into her arm until my nails pierce through. If Wes and Chloe hurt a single child I’m going to skin them both alive.
“He freed them, Skyla. And now she has to stay. See? That’s how bartering works.” Chloe starts walking down the hall at a quickened clip and I follow, glancing briefly back at the door.
“He freed the children?” I’m not sure what to feel. I specifically told Laken not to sacrifice herself, partially because I didn’t think for a moment Wes would make good on a single promise.
“Yes, Skyla. God, are you slow?” She shoves me into the wall. Chloe continues to scurry down the hall as if she were late for a mani pedi. “Oh, I’m sure it’ll be all over the news. Most of those brats were born here. You should have seen the boo-hooing that went on as they were ripped from their mother’s arm—the wailing, the gnashing of teeth.” She pauses, cinching her floral dress at the waist. “Of cour
se, now we have every mother in the tower clambering for updates. I tried to tell him that bowing down to her demands would only bring us a new brand of misery. But, I’m almost just as curious to see what becomes of the little shits. There’s no doubt your silly mother is ready and willing to snap up a half dozen. She’s forever trying to replace you, Skyla. Could you blame her?”
I let the remark about Mom go for now.
“So all the little kids are gone?” My heart gives a deep submarine thump at the thought.
“Eighteen and under. He’s a real prince charming, isn’t he?”
“Not by a long shot. I hardly think murdering those that were too sick to leave and stacking their skulls like a trophy is something to knight him over.” And I’m one thousand percent sure Laken never intended for one of those poor souls to perish. Wes is sick—and, to be honest, I’m shocked at what a horror he’s become.
Chloe gives a smug grin and combs my hair back with her fingers. A sizzle runs through my spine at her touch.
“The thing people like you and Laken will never understand is that someone like Wes—someone like me—will do anything and everything to ultimately get what we want.”
“Because you’re greedy as hell.” And obsessed with the wrong people.
“We’re driven, Skyla.”
We exit the building and walk briskly toward the woods.
“You’re sociopaths. Anybody who kills with no remorse, especially for their own gain is sick!” I jump in her face when I say it, but Chloe presses on through the budding fog, picking up her clip as she heads straight for the tower of skulls—straight for Wesley.
Chloe drops to her knees and bows at his feet. “Here she is my Master. Just as you requested.”
A river of words try to flood from my mouth, and I end up gagging instead.
Did Chloe Bishop just fall to her knees in an act of worship and refer to Wesley as her Master?
Wes walks over. His horrifically familiar features soften the moment he lays eyes on me.
“Skyla, give me your hand.”
“No. You are going to fry in the hottest pit in hell for this monstrosity that sits behind you. Those were people—with families, with beating hearts that longed to live outside these walls.” I land a hard slap across his face, and he catches me by the wrist.
A vision comes to me—an entire row of prisoners lying supine—each of them hooked up to a series of machines. Their gaunt bodies are nothing but skin over bones, hollowed out cheeks, vacant expressions for as far as the eye can see.
I shake myself free and gasp.
“What the hell was that?” I pant, my mind still reeling from the images. Wes gives a heartfelt nod as if he understood the depravity of the vision he just imparted. It’s so hard for me not to see him as Gage. A part of me wants to believe the only Fem around here is Wesley.
“I’ve taken over the tunnels, Skyla.” His dimples press in as he gives an exasperated sigh. “That vision—that was the condition the Counts left those prisoners in. I wasn’t trying to kill anyone. Ingram declared them brain dead. They already had a foot in the grave. The Counts are dry and desperate. They were keeping glorified corpses alive to satiate their thirst.”
“Why not land them at the foot of some hospital? Surely they weren’t all at death’s door. A little hot soup and TLC and they might have survived! Face it, you screwed up again and now Laken will hate you twice as much as she did before.” God, this version of my beautiful Gage is a murderer—how can that be?
“I promise you that each one went home without suffering.” Wes steps in, tilting into me with those same expressive eyes. “I made sure it was quick—respectful.”
I shake my head. “It’s like talking to the devil. You expect me to pat you on the back for your superior sense of compassion? Guess what? It’s not respectful to turn the dead into a monument. Each and every skull behind you testifies to the fact you’re still a jackass!”
He turns toward the gruesome display.
“I won’t lie.” Wes pulls his lips into a line. “I’m not interested in preserving Celestra. Although, I promise you one thing, the bloodshed that took place was not on my hands. And any future bloodshed won’t be either.” He steps in. His dark brows touch down just over the bridge of his nose. “I’m not interested in killing anyone, Skyla. I’m interested in the Counts—in those that matter within the organization. Ours is the power and the glory, and the kingdom forever.”
I take a step back and bump into a body.
“Skyla.” A warm voice whispers from behind.
I spin into Gage while Logan and Coop crop up beside him.
“Where’s Marshall?” I flit my gaze into the blackened woods.
Gage nods behind Wes, and I see Marshall’s frame staining the skeletal tower like the shadow of death.
“I know where Laken is,” I shout to Marshall. “We can get her out.”
“A sacrifice has been made.” Wes looks from me to Gage. “Laken stays.”
Marshall steps out under the dim light of the moon, his features serious and drawn as if all hope of retrieving Laken has faded.
I step forward and land square in front of Wes—my chest pounds with the gravity of what I’m about to say.
“Take me in Laken’s place,” I say it loud and clear and I fucking mean it. Laken doesn’t belong down here. I do.
Wes tilts into me, curious with the offer. “Do you swear on all that is holy that you, Skyla, offer to fulfill the covenant in which Laken willingly bound herself to?”
“It’s an oath, Skyla”—Marshall barks it out harsh as a reprimand—“I forbid you to agree.”
Gage pounces and wraps his arms around my body like a vice. “There’s no way in hell, I’m going to let you do this.” His warm breath trickles down my neck, and I mold to him for a moment.
Gage feels warm, safe. In every way, Gage feels like home. Carefully I extricate myself from his earnest embrace and step toward Wes. I doubt there’s another soul on the planet who he would consider. And perhaps my mother might have mercy on me in some small manner. I glance back at Gage—then to Logan who I’ve already lost.
“I’ll do it,” I whisper.
A pale blue mist fills the air, and Laken appears by Wesley’s side. Her long caramel hair falls over her shoulders in waves. Her face radiates the beauty of a bride on her wedding day. Laken is stunning. It’s no wonder Wes is obsessed. And no matter how hard Chloe tries to morph into her likeness, she can never truly capture Laken’s beauty.
Wes presses a kiss to her cheek before Coop snatches her to safety.
“Skyla.” Logan comes over and wraps his arms around me. “I won’t let you do this.”
Gage steps forward. “Take me.”
I look to Logan. It’s as if Gage knew what he was going to say and beat him to the punch.
Wes bleeds a wicked smile as if that was what he wanted all along.
Why do I get the feeling we just walked into an elaborate mousetrap? The intended victim was Gage all along.
Wes extends his hand and Gage latches on. Their eyes lock over one another as if a war was erupting around them.
I thread my fingers with Logan’s. They’re talking.
If anyone can defuse this it’s Gage, he says.
Wes, pats Gage on the back. “I think a lot of sacrifices were made today.” He shoots Coop a look that spells hatred more than words could ever do. “Get out of here, all of you. I’m not interested in any more prisoners.” Wes steps right through the tower of skulls and evaporates as if he never existed.
Wes is hell-bent on taking down Celestra—on destroying the Nephilim as a whole.
Wesley Edinger is evil—far more evil and wicked than Chloe or Demetri before him.
And without Laken’s heart—he’s dangerous as hell.
Gage
Rain falls over Paragon light as snow. We arrive back at Dudley’s estate with Laken still locked in Cooper’s arms. Their love exudes into the night like a song my heart
still sings for Skyla.
“You want me to help you guys get back to Host?” I offer. It’s not every day I teleport more than once, partly due to the fact I get sick as hell if I try. I tend to run low on juice if I overdo it. But, then, with my new abilities, I’m pretty sure it’s a never-ending supply of power. And I wish it wasn’t. I’d give anything to be Gage Oliver—an ordinary Levatio, once again.
“No, that’s okay.” Coop dots Laken’s cheek with a kiss. “I think a ride on the ferry is just what we need to decompress.”
“I’ll drive you to the harbor,” Skyla offers. “But only if you promise to come back here Sunday night.” She hitches her head toward Dudley. “He’s hosting a Halloween party, and I’d love for you to come as my guests.”
“We’d love to. See you then.” Laken gives a wave as they head out the door.
Coop and Laken take off with their hands racing up and down one another’s bodies. I miss that with Skyla, and it hasn’t even been a day.
Skyla steps up and examines me from head to foot with a discriminating look.
“Whatever happened back there—thank you.” Her eyes swell up with tears, and she blinks them away. “I’d better go.” She takes off out the door.
I listen as the Mustang roars to life, and she speeds away.
Skyla is gone, and my whole world is empty without her.
“All right, Gage”—Logan swats me in the gut—“what stupid deal did you make with Wes to get her out of there?”
“Whatever it was”—Dudley gives a half smile, his eyes indignantly focused on mine—“it was worth the effort.”
“I get it.” I hold my arms up a second while glaring at Dudley. “You’re not interested in my existence. I realize the sooner I’m out of the picture, the sooner you can sink your hooks into my wife. But I know she loved me fiercely, and a love like that doesn’t die overnight. So I wouldn’t go popping the champagne just yet.”
“You, Jock Strap, are allowed to have your myopic ill-conceived notions, but I assure you it’s quite the opposite.” His shoulders fall slack as he gives a wistful smile. “My heart breaks for you, young Oliver.” His brows flex like he means it. “If I knew for a moment what was at hand, I would have warned you. Your love for Skyla is pure as morning. There’s no doubt you would have avoided a covenant in an effort to protect her. But, as it stands, you are well past the starting gate. Skyla is your bride through and through. What’s done is done.” He turns toward the fireplace, and it roars to life, loud as a jet engine. “Get out, both of you.”