Celestra: Books 1-2

by Addison Moore

  “That was useless,” I marvel.

  Ellis’ laugh cuts through the still of the night.

  I search the ground for a sharp rock and luck out with a piece of broken glass.

  “I’ll be right back.” Ellis takes off across the street again.

  In long smooth strokes, I carve a steady line around the circumference of her vehicle—a giant X on the hood.

  Ellis comes back panting with a long handled hammer.

  “That’s better.”

  He hands it over, and I’m surprised by the heft of it. It takes three tries before the windshield shatters—tiny, pebbled sized pieces scatter around the street and catch the light like diamonds. I walk around to the driver’s side and open the door. Nobody believes in locking anything around here because Paragon is oh-so-freaking safe. I carve a line down the back of the driver’s seat, the soft tan leather, gives, easy as skin.

  Ellis and I walk back to his truck and hop in.

  “Remind me to never piss you off,” he says turning the engine.

  I look up the driveway and linger for any sign of Logan or Gage, but nothing.

  We drive down the road into the narrow void of darkness, the forest comes up around us like a wall thieves in trench coats. Chloe is somewhere right now. She left, and nobody knows why she would take off alone in the middle of the biggest party of the year, herself the guest of honor.

  Then I see the most curious thing—Michelle. She emerges from the woods all alone fumbling and staggering her way back to the party.

  And I wonder.

  38

  Haunted

  After sixth, and a long hard hour of cheer torture, I’m more than thrilled to see Logan, of all people, trotting in my direction. The rest of the guys streamline hard left and head into the gym, not Logan, and he’s looking right at me.

  “Hi.” I practically hop over to meet him.

  “Why would you kiss Gage?”

  My mouth falls open, my heart lets out a single thump, and I shrink into my shoes a little.

  “You were with Carly.” It comes out defensive.

  He averts his eyes as though trying to jog his memory.

  “I wasn’t with her. She was nothing and still is. I sure didn’t stick my tongue down her throat. Or wait—let me guess—you wanted everyone to know you were together.”

  The sarcasm isn’t lost on me as he turns to go.

  “That’s not what happened,” I shout after him.

  His neck jerks in my direction. Sweat beads down his temples and his helmet hangs low on his fingertips. He looks exhausted and heartbroken all at once. I don’t want to fight with Logan.

  “I’m sorry about Gage,” I offer.

  Logan struts off towards the gym—doesn’t look back.

  “What was that about?” Brielle comes over securing her sweater around her waist.

  “Noth—” Before I can get the word out, something sways in the wind from the low branch of the evergreen just beyond the field.

  I suck in a deep breath and push my hands up over my mouth. A body in a tree—a man dressed in white wearing large black boots.

  “What’s wrong?” Brielle panics turning around. “What?” Her forehead wrinkles with concern.

  “Don’t you see it?” I point right at it. “In the tree!”

  “See what?” She squints into it.

  Kate walks up, her blonde hair disheveled from the breeze.

  “Do you see something in the tree over there?” I ask her.

  She glances at it before shielding her hand over her eyes.

  “Nope.”

  I spot Marshall briskly making his way over to the teacher’s parking lot.

  “I gotta go,” I say, bolting in his direction. “Mr. Dudley!” I shout. It takes everything in me not to call him Marshall.

  “Miss Messenger.” He twirls his briefcase in my direction. “What can I do you for?” He waits until I’m right next to him before adding, “I have your arm.”

  “My arm?” It feels like a long lost child has been recovered.

  “Yes, your arm.”

  “That’s great!”

  “Now what do you want? I’m running late.”

  “That tree,” I look behind me. Thankfully, Brielle and Kate are already in the gym. “Do you see that?” It’s still there, dangling in the breeze, and nobody seems to notice.

  Marshall rolls his head methodically to the side. He looks bored, needling it with a penetrative stare. “It’s October.” He says simply as though that were enough of an explanation. “Fems are on overdrive. If that bothers you, you won’t like this month very much.”

  “That does bother me. I hate freaky things. I don’t even watch horror movies. Is it going to hurt me?”

  “Maybe.” He motions for me to follow him into the storage unit that houses the schools giant trash bins. Unidentifiable waste litters the floor, and it smells like sour milk or vomit—both.

  “I’m cashing in, Skyla” He gives a sly smile.

  “The deal was an arm and an eye. Technically, I don’t have either.”

  “I’ve already delivered the arm to the morgue. Dr. Oliver was more than thankful. Told him I stumbled upon it jogging in the woods. Personally, I wouldn’t go through the trouble of reattaching it. Give it to Chloe when the time comes.”

  “So I’m going to bring her back? It’s going to work?”

  “Something like that.” He steps forward. I can feel the heat from off his body. “And she’ll have an eye. I’m on my way now. Are you impressed?”

  “Not really.”

  He clasps me by the hand, and a jolt surges through me. I can’t see or smell the world, just feel his amazing rush. I lean in to give him the world’s quickest peck, and he devours me. He clasps onto me with both hands and engages in the longest, deepest kiss. It feels supernatural—nuclear, a supernova times one million. It’s staggering how good one human body can feel, but emotionally for him—still nothing.

  I force myself to pull away. I could easily spend hours touching—kissing Marshall and this disturbs me.

  The chirp of a car from the lot behind us catches my attention. It’s Michelle. She’s alone. I can feel her glowering over at me. Her pure beams of hatred assure me I’ve secured the number one spot on her shit list.

  “Thanks,” I say, watching her get in the car and take off in a markedly pissed fashion.

  “I might be in a little bit of trouble myself.” He laughs at the thought. “Oh Skyla,” he says, walking over to his car. “In the end none of this will matter. I promise.”

  A hard thump lands on the lid of the metal dumpster behind me. It’s a body, bloodied and bruised, vacant eyes staring up at the sky.

  I run like hell.

  ***

  It’s family not-so-fun night at Landon castle. Tad’s got a pencil tucked behind his ear and keeps a running score of some stupid board game we’re forced to play. It’s Drake and I, against Mia and Melissa, against Tad and Mom, who are desperately trying to mime out a scene from a popular movie. This sucks.

  A slight rumble erupts and shakes the house enough to make the windows rattle.

  “Whoa,” I say, sliding to the edge of the couch. Back in L.A. we had earthquakes all the time, but my adrenaline’s got me all riled up like it was my first. “You guys feel that?” My hands tremble.

  “Feel what?” Drake places his soda on the bare wood of the coffee table, a felony in my mother’s eyes.

  “I thought I just felt an earthquake.”

  Mia and Melissa both huddle in horror.

  “Oh honey,” Mom breaks pace from the game. “Its just Tad acting like a warthog.”

  “Lizbeth!” He shakes his head annoyed at the fact she gave away a major clue.

  It happens again, this time jolting the entire house. I give a little squeal and brace myself against the back cushion.

  “Skyla!” My mother watches me wild eyed. “Are you OK?”

  “You didn’t feel that?” There is no way T
ad was capable of rattling the entire freaking house.

  “No.” She looks over at me apprehensively. “It’s raining. You probably heard thunder.”

  I try to inventory how much caffeine I’ve managed to ingest this afternoon.

  “Right.” I look out the window expecting nothing but a dark velvet night, a window moistened with raindrops, but….red?

  I bolt from the couch and head over to the window behind the sofa my sisters are sitting on and touch the glass. Blood.

  I run over to the back sliding door and face a crimson-stained world. Sliding it open an inch, the stench of rust comes in—clogs up my nostrils with a wild rancid odor. It’s everywhere.

  “Why don’t you head upstairs and take a nap. I’ll call you for dinner.” My mother’s voice is swollen with concern.

  I don’t argue. I take the stairs two by two, hit my bed fast, and text Logan.

  Red rain? Bodies? He texts back. You know what’s stranger than that?

  Does he think I’m joking?

  What? ~S

  Michelle swore to me she saw you with Marshall. Want to guess what she said you were doing?

  Shit! Shit, shit, shit. I hate Marshall.

  He found an arm for Chloe. MY arm. ~S

  I can’t admit to him I agreed to do it, even if it was going to be less than a peck.

  Logan doesn’t text me back.

  He attacked me after school. He’s demented. He called me over and trapped me behind the dumpsters. I’m totally thinking about calling child services. ~S

  Less than five seconds later. I heard you call his name. I saw you running over to him with my own eyes.

  That’s because I saw a BODY! He’s a Sector. Remember? He saw it 2. BTW, I LOVE YOU!!! Please come over. ~S

  The house starts in on a violent rattle. I drop the phone and hear it thump across the hardwood floor. The lights flicker on and off, then the whole room goes black with a palpable darkness. A strange buzzing fills my ears, and it feels like I’m falling.

  A violent clap of light so brilliant ignites around me, and I’m momentarily blinded.

  Then, in perfect clarity, I see.

  39

  Eye for an Eye

  A viscous fog surrounds me. I inhale it, taste it, feel it coat my lungs like honey. A man with long black hair stares back at me. He’s seated on a rather ornate throne that looks like it’s made entirely of blue rock candy, and there’s a wild fire burning on either side of him. It’s not until I get over the shock of the grandeur of this strange room made of light that I notice his right eye socket is empty and gaping.

  I have the distinct feeling Marshall has something to do with this.

  “You’re almost more trouble than you’re worth.” His voice booms much deeper and stronger than expected, causing the room to vibrate in rhythm. “Almost.” His eye blazes like fire and I can’t tell whether or not it’s a reflection I’m seeing. A rotating wheel lifts from under his chair and levitates him off the ground. “I could kill you now. Would you like to die?” He says it so cool, so casual, like offering lemonade.

  The fire jumps and ignites on either side of me—it’s so hot my skin stings, then in a puff, it disappears as quick as it came.

  The intensity was hotter than an oven. It blistered my flesh in a split second, and I want to cry out at the thought of what my father endured.

  “The Countenance has decreed your blood paramount to their existence. Everything else these days means precious little to them. Your loss or victory against them will change the tide of Nephilim supremacy.” He picks up a glowing hammer with a giant flat bottom and strikes it against a royal blue glass plate built into his armrest. “I ordain a civil war in thy name, Skyla Messenger, to commence in one fortnight. May you choose your allies wisely and find the fortitude to continue in battle when they turn against you in number. Godspeed.” He lifts the glowing hammer again before connecting it violently against the glass.

  Everything evaporates under the intensity of an ever-growing white light.

  ***

  Flat on my back on the softest sofa in the world, I stare up at the high-beamed ceiling thankful to be anywhere but wherever the hell I just was.

  “Skyla.” Marshall’s voice booms from behind.

  I sit up and find myself square in his living room.

  “So what was that? Some stupid hallucination?”

  “You just missed Michelle.” He ignores my question, offering me a sip of something thick and orange from his glass. “She’s not that miffed at me anymore. She’s a piece of work—firework.” He flops down on the sofa across from me and widens his grin. The fireplace is crackling. There’s a bunch of pillows lying around on the floor and suddenly I want to vomit.

  “I went someplace. I saw this guy, and he had this hammer and now it’s ordained.” I stammer, still shaking. I relay the entire event in sequence and wait for explanation.

  “The hammer was a gavel,” he nods. “The blue thingy made of glass was a sapphire plate. The fact he ordained a civil war in your name is not something I would brag about, and his newly missing eye is in the competent hands of your boyfriend’s father—uncle.” He throws his hand in the air. “Whatever.”

  “You took his eye?” I ask horrified.

  “The kiss was that good, Skyla. I had to rectify my end of the deal. Besides, it’s a good eye—sees through walls.”

  “Crap.”

  He holds a finger in the air.

  “No language.”

  “What happened?”

  “Our kiss drew a little celestial attention. The Counts have upped the ante. They smell a powerful Celestra in the making, and now there’s a Sector by her side. It looks bad—leaves them shaking in their partially human boots.”

  “Is that why I’m seeing Fems? The guy with one eye sicked them after me?”

  He winces.

  “Rothello—he has another name, but you wouldn’t understand it. Please, don’t refer to him as the guy with one eye.” He taps his fingertips together. “Skyla, choose me. All this will go away. No more nightmares, no wicked beings hovering, waiting to harm you. No more Ezrina.”

  “I’m with…Gage,” I say, depleted.

  “You’re not with Gage anymore than I’m with Michelle. The Counts are closing in. Ezrina was made to look like a fool brandishing your arm like a trophy, and here you’ve already got another one. Be my wife, and I’ll protect you forever.”

  “Wife?”

  “We could be so much more. We could start a race all our own. Sector and Celestra. We could live in both dimensional planes at once, and our children would have dominion.”

  I shake my head in disbelief.

  “What are you going to do?” He continues. “Remove the Countenance from power? You and that bumbling band of Olivers you hope to procreate with someday?”

  “Ellis…he’s one of them. He’ll help.” It comes out flat, almost hopeless.

  “You’re going to kill Ellis.”

  “I’m not going to kill Ellis. I can’t.” The concept shocks me.

  “I’ve seen this, Skyla. You can, and you do.”

  I’m shaking. I need to get out of here and find Logan immediately.

  “Logan and Gage are going to die. I can save one. Who would you like me to spare?” He asks with a pleasant smile on his face like we’re playing a game.

  A breath gets caught in my throat. It’s another one of his stupid love tests. He’s trying to trip me up and make me say Logan.

  “Neither.”

  “One will die, and I’ll pardon the other. Your choice.” His demeanor changes, he looks deathly serious.

  “I choose both Logan and Gage, and you can take their place.” I head to the door.

  Marshall swoops over to meet me—catches me by the waist, and I relax into him.

  “You can marry one. Who do you prefer?”

  Love like a tuning fork. I close my eyes. Why does Marshall bother with words when his actions are so damn powerful?

>   “And if I choose you?” The words come out a shallow whisper.

  “I spare them both and bring back your father.”

  40

  Forget You

  I beg Dr. Oliver to take my blood twice a month. The human body can replenish its supply in twenty-four hours. His rationale to only take one pint a month doesn’t hold water.

  “Skyla,” he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes with frustration. “It takes months for your marrow to produce hemoglobin. Drinking fluids doesn’t magically create quality blood. You’ll be exhausted. We run the risk of a cardiac episode.”

  “Absolutely not.” Gage interjects. “Forget it. Chloe will be here by summer. Trust me, that’s soon enough.”

  “We need her. I need her. Didn’t you hear anything I said? A civil war in my name—in fourteen days. What if I’m gone by next summer? I’ve got Fems crawling around my house, at school, outside my window. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

  “We’ll try two pints.” Dr. Oliver gives a mock smile. “If you excuse me, I’ve got a corpse that needs tending.” He disappears behind the metal doors.

  “Why do you need Chloe so bad?” His dimples wink when he says it.

  “I need Chloe and Marshall to fall in love.”

  “You want to feed Chloe to Mr. Dudley?”

  “Exactly.”

  I don’t tell Gage, Marshall is easy to love, that after one touch it’s rather hard not to.

  ***

  Marshall alluded to the fact there’s a way to bring back my father. It only makes sense. He’s alive right now in another time and space that I can easily visit. Gage agrees to go back with me, and we appear in my bedroom on the floor next to an old pile of socks.

  “I want to help you.” Gage tugs at my hand.

  “You can’t come downstairs. If my dad finds out I have a boy up here, he’ll kill us both, then die.”

  He shakes his head. Gage looks are around the room as though he needs something.