Celestra: Books 1-2

by Addison Moore

  “That’s actually Skyla’s ride,” Gage says, as we move down toward the driveway.

  “That’s the car they want to give you?” Tad rushes past Gage and trots down the stairs to get a better look. “That’s a 66 mustang!” He slaps the sides of his heavily pleated chinos. “Lizbeth!” He motions for my mother to come down in her bathrobe.

  Logan gets out from the driver’s seat and politely says hello.

  Tad ignores him. He’s too busy asking Gage faux permission before popping up the hood.

  “It’s got a 289!” Tad’s voice echoes through the forest like a boomerang. “Shit!” He smacks his head on the inside of the hood before backing up. “What the hell are you thinking giving her a car like this?”

  “I’m going to pay for it,” I offer.

  “We’re working something out.” Logan looks back at me and relaxes into a smile.

  It crushes me—everything around me stops as our eyes linger. All of the madness of Tad and his bizarre commotion, my mother’s bare breast nearly exposed, the fact Drake has appeared and is pulling at his hair like a cartoon character, none of it fazes me.

  Logan gets behind the wheel, while Gage and I banter about who’s going to sit in the back, but I insist.

  I take Logan in, as we head out on the road—drink him down like water. His long muscular arms, his chiseled to perfection features, the strong assurance he exudes without having to say a word, and my heart shatters like glass over and over until it’s ground down, fine as sand.

  ***

  Nicholas Haver lives behind the gates, much further down the road than Logan and Gage. We drive through miles cloaked in darkness, with no streetlamps, and no moon to illuminate our path, just the sterile headlights igniting the evergreens, surprising the world around us with their artificial beams.

  Logan parks high on the ridge behind an entire row of SUVs, minivans and sports cars. It’s amazing how many people have showed up for this meeting. I crashed one of these meetings this past summer, or tried to, until I was caught sneaking around the periphery with Ellis. Note to self, including Ellis in just about anything will consistently result in deep regret and quite possibly end with me getting stoned.

  We get out of the car, and the icy November air slices through my sweater, makes me wish I had the forethought to throw on a jacket. Jackets were something you didn’t need in L.A., and rain was something we didn’t have. I’m still trying to get used to the violent weather here on Paragon. Between the constant shroud of dark clouds and the continual layer of fog that permeates our world, it’s starting to feel like the sun is just a rumor, something that warms the rest of the planet but strategically passes us by.

  We make our way to a barnlike structure, lit up like a flame, far behind the main house. The three of us remain unnaturally quiet, dipped in morbid silence until we’re just shy of the entry.

  “So they know we’re coming?” I ask twisting my finger around my hair repetitively.

  “They’re expecting us.” Logan presses his hand into the small of my back ushering me into the well-lit room.

  It’s probably the last thing I should be thinking, that Logan is touching me, the last thing I need to be doing is focusing in on the electrical impulses that race from his fingertips all the way to my scalp, but my mind refuses to consider anything else. Once again he’s the forbidden fruit, not just according to the Countenance, but according to Logan himself.

  Nicholas Havar is a heavyset man with a triple chin and pillow-like bags tucked under his eyes. He scoffs when he sees us then gets back to reciting roll call from which the three of us are omitted.

  I notice Dr. Oliver and Emma and wave. It’s an empty, cavernous room, with chairs set in a giant circle that creates an equitable environment. The strong scent of fresh brewed coffee is thick in the air and I see pastries laid out on a small round table near the back.

  “Let’s get down to the matter at hand.” Mr. Havar leans in, scoops together a loose stack of papers and glosses over them. “In the last four days we’ve had sixteen brothers who’ve lost their lives under suspicious circumstances. It’s not unusual to have this sort of thing happen, as it does from time to time, but the curious nature of their demise, coupled with the fact the deaths were quarantined to one particular faction, brings this matter to the forefront.” He pauses to take a few quick swigs from his water bottle.

  “Which faction?” Dr. Oliver asks, adjusting his glasses.

  “Celestra,” Nicholas answers.

  Shit.

  I try to make contact with Logan, but his eyes are glued to the front.

  “Eleven in suspect fires,” Mr. Havar continues, “three auto accidents, and two beheaded.”

  A series of gasps coil around the room.

  I take a deep breath and bow my head.

  “It has also come to our attention that someone in this room has access to a Sector,” Mr. Havar pauses to allow for another series of echoing gasps. “And I have also been informed that a Civil War has been ordained.” He bounces his water bottle on the table as if to affirm the statement. “The Countenance has clearly taken a progressive step in the conflict already. The C.R.L. has discussed the matter and we feel the potential loss outweighs the devastation that has already taken place. We move to accede for the time being until we can further assess the strategy of the enemy—at that time, we will consider seeking retribution.”

  A hushed silence penetrates the room. Nothing but somber faces and dull eyes liter the assembly.

  “What’s the C.R.L.?” I ask Gage. I’m afraid if I ask Logan he won’t respond. Although he’s not officially giving me the cold shoulder, I can definitely feel the arctic breeze.

  “Council of Regional Leaders. Basically leaders like him from all over the world, excluding Countenance of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “Excuse me.” A man in a plaid sweater and purple tie knotted just below his chin stands. “Who has access to this Sector? Isn’t there a chasm in place to keep this sort of thing from happening?”

  “Chasms are temporal. The Sector involved has expressed interest in one of our own. The young woman’s family has requested we not place any focus on her.”

  About a dozen heads turn in my direction. My cheeks start to burn from the attention.

  Of course it’s me. Logan, Gage, and I are the only ones under thirty in this entire assembly. And suddenly the overwhelming urge to strangle Marshall seems like a good idea.

  “Any questions?” Mr. Havar impatiently pans the crowd. “Meeting is adjourned. Godspeed until we meet again.”

  A mingling of bodies explodes as the crowd bleeds toward the door.

  That’s it?

  Dr. Oliver and Emma come over and offer me a hug.

  “I hope you don’t mind that we referred to you as family.” Emma rubs my back when she says it.

  “No, I don’t mind.” I cast a heavy glance over at Logan. It feels terrible being separated like this from him. This is way worse than being forced to live a million miles apart. It’s an emotional separation, and it’s mincing me from the inside.

  I hate the brutal awareness that Logan doesn’t think we should be together right now. Blaming himself was just a rouse to keep from pointing the finger at me and say that I cheated.

  Gage pops up beside me and wraps his arm around my waist. It’s beyond uncomfortable knowing that Logan can see—knowing that it’s not an act, that there’s not a Count around for miles.

  “So why aren’t they going after whoever did this?” I direct my question at Dr. Oliver.

  “It would only incur more deaths.” He shrugs as though it were obvious.

  “But they killed sixteen Celestra. We’re on the verge of extinction as it is,” I say.

  “Yes,” Nicholas Havar steps in. “But they can eradicate the Celestra in an instant given the proper nudging. They’re posturing, hoping that a full-scale war will break out so they can have the excuse they’ve been waiting for, to indulge in genoci
de. We can’t give them that option.”

  “If this war was fought a long time ago, maybe my father wouldn’t have died. It’s hard to believe the solution is to do nothing.” I try to restrain my anger.

  “Peace is a powerful tool.” Mr. Haver picks up my hand and cups it between the both of his before walking over to small crowd.

  “Peace is an impotent weapon,” I say quietly once he’s gone.

  Dr. Oliver and Emma migrate over to an older gentleman standing near the door.

  “You don’t like peace?” Gage gives a dry smile.

  “I don’t like death.” A thought comes to me. “We should fight death with death.”

  Logan steps over and steadies his eyes on me. “And who’s going to kill them?”

  I give a placid smile. “I am.”

  29

  Struggle

  After the faction meeting, Logan drives us back to their house. He asked if I wanted to come hang out for a while, and, of course, I said yes.

  In the kitchen Dr. Oliver examines my pupils, my pulse, heart rate.

  “You’re extremely anemic. It would be irresponsible to extract any more blood for the next several months.”

  An unexpected sense of relief washes over me. The feeling catches me off guard. Isn’t the entire point of donating dangerous amounts of blood, to bring Chloe back, and introduce her to Marshall?

  Her diary runs through my mind in snippets. So she has a prickly personality—who doesn’t? Anyway, I’m totally relieved.

  “She doesn’t have her powers anymore,” Logan points out.

  “Mm hmm,” Dr. Oliver throws his stethoscope into his black leather bag. “She’s depleted at the moment. Celestra strength lies in the concentration of hemoglobin, and since she’s in short supply, she’ll need to wait for the bone marrow to generate a fresh inventory. In time, all will return.”

  “How long?” I pull down my sleeves, almost afraid to ask.

  “Could be weeks, but they’ll trickle back slowly. I wouldn’t recommend time travel unless you’re with Logan. You might only have enough to get you one way.” He pats the top of my head. “You’ll be fine.” He says a brief goodnight and heads upstairs.

  “I’m not going to be fine.” I look from Logan to Gage. “If a Fem comes after me I’m dust.”

  “Ask Mr. Dudley for some kind of protective hedge.” Logan looks serious, and this alarms me.

  “I’m not asking Dudley. The only way he’ll protect me is if I gift myself to him.”

  “No.” Gage helps me up and pulls me in. “I’ll protect you.”

  “You’re not always with her. They’ll wait until she’s alone,” Logan glares over at him.

  “Then she won’t be alone.”

  They bear into one another with something just this side of hatred until finally Logan gives.

  “I’m going to bed. Goodnight Skyla.”

  He leaves the room and takes my heart with him.

  ***

  Gage and I head out to the pool. The Jacuzzi is bubbling and sweating into the night so we take our shoes off and roll up our jeans while sitting on the edge. It feels good to have my flesh immersed in a bath of scalding water. It reflects perfectly how Logan scalded my heart.

  A blank darkness has settled over Paragon, the light blue glow from deep inside the pool only seems to amplify this.

  “I talked to Logan.” Gage scoots in until our thighs are touching and drapes an arm around my shoulder. “I know you’re hurting. I’m sorry.”

  It takes everything in me not to sob into him. Hurting would be the tip of this necrotic iceberg, if only hurting were as simple and minimal as it sounds. It’s more like I’m regurgitating—eating up the flesh that was our relationship and vomiting it out over and over in one long emotional cycle.

  “I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to do the noble thing and step down, too.” He nods into the pool.

  I take a deep breath and ready myself for it. I’ve lost Logan, my powers, in a sense the Chloe who I thought knew, and now Gage.

  “But I’m not going to.” He pushes into me gently. “I’m going to be with you at school and when we’re out, and I meant what I said in the kitchen. I want to protect you.”

  “Thank you.” I wrap my arms around him and give a tight squeeze. “I can’t do this by myself. And I love having you around. It would kill me if you shut me out.”

  “I’d never shut you out.” He picks up his class ring dangling from the silver chain around my neck and fingers it before placing it gently back down. “I don’t want to scare you, but I really feel like you are my girlfriend—always have been.”

  I pick up the ring and swivel it in between my fingers while darting a glance up toward Logan’s window.

  “I am your girlfriend.” I can’t bring myself to add, and I always will be because my throat seems to have solidified with grief. Instead, I lean up and offer a tender kiss that says it so much better.

  Gage rubs up against my leg under water and we just sit listening to an owl vibrate through the night with a string of magnetic calls. I never want this peaceful moment—this melancholy magic covered in the shadow of day, to end.

  “I read Chloe’s diary,” I whisper. “Part of it.”

  “Oh.”

  “Did you find Chloe attractive?” Maybe he was just using me as an excuse.

  “Chloe was gorgeous—it was hard not to look at her.”

  A spike of heat explodes all over me. I’d rather not hear how gorgeous she was from Gage, but I guess I asked. “So why didn’t you go out with her?”

  “I went out with her.” He relaxes back onto his hands. “Just as friends. It never went anywhere.”

  “Just friends.” I parrot his words, catching his gaze. “She said you rejected her because you were waiting for someone.”

  His mouth opens then closes. “I was.” His lips press together. “I was waiting for you.”

  Silence cuts through our conversation as obtrusive as thunder.

  “Do you regret waiting for me?”

  “Why would I regret it?” He reaches over and circles my waist. “You’re better than Chloe, better than anyone in every way. I knew that before I met you.”

  “But how did you know that? Was it a vision?” I’m dying to know if it was the same kind of thing I experienced with Marshall.

  “Yes. A whole series of them, sometimes I would dream about you,” He examines me for a moment. “Clean dreams, I promise. OK some dreams were a little racy, but that was after you moved here.” He gives a tiny grin.

  “So your gift of knowing works that way? In snippets?”

  “Snippets is a good way to put it. I don’t know everything.”

  “Am I going to kill the Counts responsible for the Celestra deaths?” My blood boils just thinking about the way they tortured my father, and equally that the faction leaders think it’s fine to sit back and let this continue to happen. You don’t look at cancer and hope it goes away. You cut it out.

  “You are,” he whispers. “You’ll kill many.”

  My stomach explodes in a hot ball of acid.

  “Will you come with me?” I ask.

  “I’ll always be with you.”

  30

  Down and Dirty

  Monday morning, the fog floats around the student parking lot, thick as a cemetery teeming with ghosts. I wonder about Holden as I get out of the car—what havoc he’s waiting to inflict on me next, and what it’s going to take to get him out of my life completely. That’s when I see them.

  Logan and Lexy. Even their names are nauseatingly cute together. He holds her backpack as she climbs out of his truck. She pinches down her miniskirt from just above her crotch and laughs into him.

  “Disgusting,” I mouth the word.

  “What?” Gage turns in time to catch the show, and lets out a sigh. “You know it’s all an act.”

  “Yeah, so were we,” I say under my breath.

  We make our way to the English building in
slow easy strides. I’ve managed to trade my bulky white scarf for a thin metallic grey one that Brielle lent me. The scar still whips across my neck like a thick seam of flesh, looks like it’s never going to heal.

  Without warning my head plunges backward. A cold hand has me by the hair and gives a few wild yanks before letting go.

  “Hey!” Gage barks as he pulls me over to him.

  I spin around to see Michelle’s swollen, blotchy face. It’s evident she’s been crying—her makeup is wrecked, and she looks beyond exhausted. She looks exactly how I feel.

  Before I can figure out how to respond, she shoves Gage aside and strikes me across the face with an open-palmed slap. The sound echoes through the quad with a deafening finality.

  “You bitch,” is all I can manage before she takes off toward the parking lot. I don’t care if she is having Marshall’s baby. I don’t care if she’s having twelve angelic beings at once. What the hell gives her the right to assault me whenever she’s in the mood?

  Logan and Lexy walk past me. She’s got her hand over his shoulder. Logan’s features darken with anger at the scene he just witnessed.

  It hurts more to see them together—touching. Michelle could peel the skin right off of me, and it wouldn’t hurt half as bad as losing Logan.

  ***

  I’m fixated on the blackboard behind Marshall. I can’t focus in on the lecture or the manic examples he strings out fervently every few seconds. All of this crap with Michelle, and of course the spike Logan drove to my heart is just killing me. Gage reaches forward and traces slow relaxing circles onto my back with his fingers. I can feel his sympathy, but it’s drenched in an agony of his own. I’m sure I’ve made him doubt my feelings for him, while I openly ache for Logan.

  What’s the matter? Marshall asks, after giving the class an assignment.

  I can still hear him, I marvel.

  Of course you can hear me, but why can I hear you? He looks perplexed by this.

  Crap.

  I lost too much blood. Everything is gone. I’m practically less than human. I’m anemic—one step in the grave, all because I wanted to help Chloe. Something in me wanted to blame her. It’s as though I’ve been looking for an excuse to pin all of the problems in the world right on her dead shoulders. He dumped me. The swollen river of my heart has finally crested and I want to blabber everything to, of all people, Marshall.