The Dragon and the Rose

by Addison Moore

  His clear green eyes settled over mine. “Then the heart of one you hold dear will turn against you—and everything you think you stand for. The price of breaking the covenant with the Steel Barricade is high, but the punishment won’t be doled out by me.” Wes looks to Demetri. “Only he can impress wickedness onto another’s soul.” He turns to me. “Only he would do that to his own grandchild.”

  Grandchild. If I dared have a child with Skyla, if I ever told Skyla of this misery I’ve taken upon my shoulders, there’s no doubt in my mind Demetri would impress that child with a spirit of wickedness. I couldn’t do that to another human being. I already know I’m going to come clean to Skyla one day soon and let her in on the fact I’ve dipped my toe in Demetri’s evil pool. And, then, of course, I’ll tell her why.

  I dip a kiss to her forehead, carefully untangle our bodies and start to dematerialize.

  I’m just not telling her anytime soon.

  The Tenebrous Woods fills in around me. I’ve been stopping in night after night checking in with Wes as we strategize to take down the Nephilim. Chloe is onto me, but so far she hasn’t ratted me out—that I know of.

  “Gage!” She wraps her arms around me. “Tonight’s a pretty big deal. Are you ready to set the night on fire?” Her eyes glow an eerie brown, like maple syrup in front of a furnace.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Wes emerges from the burnt out forest, smelling of soot and rot. This entire place makes sulfur smell like a perfume you could bottle and sell for profit.

  “Here he is.” He gives a quick slap to my shoulder. “The man of the hour.”

  “So where is everyone?” Tonight is the big induction ceremony. I’m officially about to get knocked over the head with Demetri’s scepter and pronounced head moron of the Videns, then, boom, I’m back in Skyla’s arms just the way it should be.

  “The ceremony doesn’t take place here.” Wes glances to Chloe. They’re sharing a sentiment between the two of them, but it still feels miles away from love. “You want to tell him? Or should I?”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” Chloe strides up in her red leather heels, her matching low cut, high cut dress. Her hair is flowing and alive as if a thousand garden snakes have been rooted to her scalp. “Tonight, not only do you get your own people—you get your very own realm.” Her lips purse when she says it as if she were gifting it to me herself by way of a kiss.

  The sky ignites in a lavender sizzle as lightning fills the Tenebrous Woods. Thunder grumbles overhead as if Tenebrous itself were ushering us out.

  “Where is this realm?”

  Chloe pulls me in by the shirt and leans in until our lips are about to touch. “Paragon, Gage. You get Paragon.”

  The world around us shifts and warps. The sky spins as the ground drops us straight through, and we fall. We fall straight down until a new world materializes around us—one of stony crags, and glowing granite walls that warp like frozen candle wax. The long stalactites that drip from the ceiling give away the fact we’re in a cave.

  “Paragon doesn’t have caves.” Not like this one anyway.

  “We’re beneath the island.” Wes smooths my shirt and leans in with his hands clamped hard over my shoulders. “You, my brother, are about to step into the first phase of your birthright. They’re going to ask you to do things.” He bears into me as if he’s trying to warn me of something without it being obvious. I’ve wondered before if Wes was good deep down inside, if he were somehow working against our father, but I can never read him well enough. “Whatever they ask, you mustn’t hesitate.” His jaw redefines itself as if he were trying to feed me a valuable bit of information I can’t quite comprehend.

  What is it, Wes? I ask. What are you really trying to say? Maybe it’s Chloe he’s trying to keep in the dark.

  He shakes his head. Remember, your thoughts are telegraphed to our father in this realm. Keep it clean. He doesn’t appreciate ‘language.’

  And there it is.

  Wesley leads us to an illuminated corridor. The walls fill with a strange blue smoke I’ve come to associate with the Counts. A curtain of fire separates us from whatever lies on the other side.

  “Your people await.” Chloe hooks her arm in mine and leads me into the flames.

  My people await?

  Now this I have to see.

  Logan

  Skyla texted a little after one in the morning and let Dudley and me know it was show time. Marshall zipped us over to pick her up. We hold hands in a circle right there in the butterfly room while Marshall chants in some unknowable ancient language, but I’m not paying too much attention. I’m simply trying to ignore the fact the butterflies have changed colors for the first time, incorporating a pink hue around their tips—that and the fact the tiny room itself smells ripe with sex.

  The butterfly room and all of its erotic secrets dissipate as a cave forms around us gnarled and spacious.

  “Paragon in nocturne.” Marshall nods as if we should know what this means. “The underbelly of the island,” he says it without enthusiasm. “It’s being gifted to Jock Strap as a realm.” He flexes a dry smile as he leads us toward a crowd.

  Skyla pulls him back. “They’re going to see us.”

  “Very well.” Marshall sinks his enormous hands over the tops of our heads and we dissolve, clear as water.

  “So very cool.” Skyla holds out her arms and examines them in this velum state. I can still see the two of them, albeit more as an impression—some long forgotten idea. “Can they see us?”

  “We’re completely concealed to the others. Come.” He leads us through the crowd, and together we physically walk right through people. It’s a strange feeling of tiny vibrating zaps, nothing more than a quick hum that pulses through your body, something just this side of a tickle.

  A room opens up, wide as it is long, spacious enough to fit every inhabitant on the island. The walls are polished compared to where we just came from, resembling topaz, but with a crystalline quality that shines like a mirror.

  “See anyone you know?” I whisper to Skyla as Dudley leads us through to the front.

  “There’s Em.” She points to a girl in a white toga with dark curls pulled over the top of her head. It is Emily, but I wouldn’t have been able to pick her out of the crowd, not dressed like that anyway.

  There’s a circular altar up front. A round stone draped with a red silk cloth. Torches are set about sporadically causing the light to bounce like a heartbeat. The altar itself is rimmed with fire, no higher than a foot around the entire circumference.

  “My dear love”—Dudley wraps a finger around one of Skyla’s watery curls—“do you remember the promise you made?”

  “I remember.” She shudders as if filled with regret.

  “What’s the promise?” Unlike my nephew, I’m not into head games. I’m through with keeping things from Skyla. That in and of itself is what I blame for the divergent paths our lives have taken. If Gage isn’t careful, I’ve no doubt he’ll suffer the same fate.

  “I leave Gage if he proves to be wicked.” She averts her gaze as if the idea was ludicrous, but something in me weighs heavy at the prospect. I can feel the possibility looming like a match over her marriage certificate.

  Demetri materializes on the altar in all his demonic glory. The wall behind him cracks open with the fanfare of a thunderstorm and an enormous golden throne is revealed situated on a pedestal just past the silk robed stone.

  “Tonight, the leader your people have longed for, millennia after millennia, has finally come to save you.”

  A roar erupts in the crowd.

  “Tonight you, the Viden people, will take your rightful place among the angelic factions. Tonight we form a collective of likeminded hearts. Are you ready to meet your master?” Another deafening cheer tears through the chamber.

  Demetri looks to the back as the sea of people part equally down the center revealing a wall of fire at the far end of the room. Three bodies emerge from
the flames unscathed. Chloe on one side, Wes on the other, and Gage Oliver front and center.

  Holy hell.

  “Well, I’ll be a dead son of a bitch,” I whisper.

  “I wouldn’t insult your mother that way,” Dudley admonishes as we watch the three of them march their way defiantly through the crowd. A slow building applause starts in as they make their way across the length of the room.

  They approach without even blinking in our direction. I study my nephew’s face, solemn, sure as shit regarding what he’s about to do. I’ve seen that look of determination in his eyes before, and it would take a lot of convincing for me to ever believe he’s faking this. My heart breaks.

  I pull Skyla in. She’s rigid. Her features frozen in disbelief, her lips parted as if set in a silent scream.

  Gage steps over the flames and onto the altar before turning around. Chloe and Wes kneel just shy of where he’s standing, and everyone in the room follows suit. Everyone is on their knees for Gage. The altar, the corporate worship of the boy I grew up with, it’s too much for me to take in at once.

  Demetri steps up behind Gage and lands his hand on his shoulder. The room rumbles, the altar shakes as a wall of black-feathered wings burst from behind Gage. If he didn’t look menacing enough before with his bodybuilder stature, the long, full wings that spring from his back make him look every bit as dangerous.

  “To the Viden people”—Demetri shouts over the rumble of awe—“who fall in the order of a righteous lineage, I give you—my son—your king.”

  A solemn hum of appreciation moans through the place before their voices grow like a cancer, and they’re once again howling with approval at the top of their lungs.

  Demetri holds up a hand, and the room falls silent. The Videns are still on their knees, still paying homage to the boy I once gave routine wedgies to. It’s a mindfuck if I’ve ever seen one.

  “The hour has come for the commencement ceremony. Will the chief’s daughter please present herself for holy sacrifice.”

  A girl dressed in a toga stands, and it takes another second for it to register that the girl is Emily. For one, she’s wearing white—a color I don’t think I’ve ever seen on her with the exception of her cheer uniform at West. And two, she’s smiling while skipping to the front, far too willingly. Emily usually plods with a scowl.

  “My God”—Skyla whispers—“Is Gage going to kill Em?”

  Marshall shakes his head. “This is simply your run of the mill consummation rite. I’m sure it won’t last long. How long before he collapses over you in bed, love? Ten—fifteen seconds?”

  “What?” Her voice carries in a shrill whisper, but no one seems to care.

  “Hold her.” Dudley instructs, and I do. I wrap my arms around Skyla so tight, I almost make two revolutions around her tiny waist.

  “No.” She shakes her head feverishly as Emily steps over the flames and joins Gage on the altar.

  Demetri nods to the round stone covered in red. “And now to consummate the union of our people.”

  Emily crawls obediently onto the stone and lies on her back, her legs parted and bent at the knees. Her fingers reach down and scoop her dress over her thighs, and that dark triangle of hair slaps the crowd in the face. I’m not sure if I should cover Skyla’s eyes or tackle Gage and kick some sense into him.

  “Son”—Demetri lays his hand over Gage’s forehead—“go forth and commit your duty. Your sins have already been forgiven.” And with that, the devil himself steps off the stone. Demetri heads over and kneels between Chloe and Wes.

  Gage looks out at the crowd with a glassy-eyed stare filled with disillusion.

  There he is. The kid I spent my days elbow to elbow with is coming to.

  I hold Skyla tighter as her body starts to writhe. She’s breathless, helpless, wanting Gage to make the right decision, wanting to make it for him.

  Gage looks right through us as he scans the room. His eyes land on Wesley’s, and I catch the hint of a nod coming from his half-brother. Something in Gage solidifies. His sense of resolve expands through his chest as he undoes his belt buckle.

  Demetri leads the room into an eerie chant that sounds reminiscent of a repeated hallelujah.

  Skyla bucks and kicks.

  “No!” She screams with every ounce of her being, but her cry is drowned out by the rising choir.

  The flames that surround the altar rise to the ceiling, and the last image we see is that of Gage landing his knee on the stone, his jeans already undone.

  “So help me, Marshall—” Skyla roars as her body twists against mine. She’s implemented her Celestra reserve and is ready to break my arms if need be to rid herself of my stronghold. “You will regret this until kingdom come if you don’t stop this madness!”

  “Am I the one about to consciously bed another woman, Skyla?” He squints at her irritated more than amused. “I’ll accept your punishment when the crime fits. But that will never happen. Sit back and enjoy the show. I’ll have a room ready for you by morning.”

  “Gage!” Skyla bursts through my arms. In truth, I might have let her go.

  Dudley and I watch her leap like a gazelle, graceful and lithe, perfect in form and beauty, desperately trying to save the man she loves—from himself.

  Skyla rushes toward the altar and jumps right into the flames.

  4

  All Hell

  Skyla

  They say if you run through a curtain of fire fast enough, you won’t get singed. That’s not necessarily true. My skin enlivens with a quick pinch all at once, but, my rage, my outright fury fueled adrenaline doesn’t allow the fire to cause me any pain—or at least not as much as Gage has.

  The cave explodes in a blinding white light, and I land hard on my ass in the butterfly room with its still-blushing butterflies fluttering their delicate wings, illuminating the vicinity a vibrant shade of blue.

  A body moves next to mine, and I snatch up a blanket and scoot the hell away from whoever has made his way into my makeshift bed.

  “Skyla?” Gage looks up sleepy-eyed. His dimples dig in and out as he smacks his lips in a drugged stupor. There’s something I’d like to smack. “What’s going on?” His arm extends as he fishes for a limb to draw in.

  “You cheated on me!” I shrill so loud the walls vibrate, unhinging the butterflies, causing them to tornado around the room in a flurry.

  “What?” He looks mildly alarmed as though he were playing it cool, but deep down he fucking knows I’m right.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” I crawl toward the transom like a prisoner trying to escape her captor, and he blocks the exit with a simple shift of his body.

  “I’m not cheating on you, Skyla. I swear.” He wraps his arms around my waist, as if he has the right, and pulls me over his lap. “It was just a dream. That’s all.” His lips touch my temple so soft and warm. I close my eyes a moment and let my body mold to his. Every last part of me wants to believe him.

  “It was just a dream,” I whisper. A dull smile flirts with my lips. “A bad dream.” He moans as if acknowledging the fact. “A nightmare even.” I giggle a little into his chest, but my fingers make their way to my bathrobe, drawing it to my body like a life raft.

  His mouth finds that sweet spot just below my neck, and I groan with approval. Gage shifts me over his hips, and I can feel him growing for me, ready and willing to gift me a proper good morning. Heaven knows an orgasm before breakfast keeps a smile on my face the entire livelong day.

  “I like where you’re headed.” That’s no lie. Sex with Gage is the only way to get my day started off on the right trajectory. “Let me run to the bathroom real quick and splash some water on my face—empty my bladder.” I bear right into his soulful eyes, and my heart breaks. It cracks and splices in unexpected ways like a glacier dropped in a boiling sea.

  “Don’t take too long.” His mouth finds mine, and we engage in a pull and tug of lips, the glide of teeth, our tongues already eager to leash themselve
s together.

  “I won’t.” I slip my robe on and fasten it as I drop through the transom—my heart racing as if the house were on fire. The morning gloom has already settled over the island, lighting it up like a dull lantern. I spot Holden perched outside my bedroom window like a gargoyle. I’m tempted to say hello but don’t. I’m too pissed to use the bathroom or splash water on my face. Instead, I snatch up my phone and keys and thunder down the stairs. Dream my ass.

  The heavy scent of bacon lights up my senses as I stagger into the kitchen. All the usual suspects are present, Drake and Brielle, Mom with her baby posse, Tad bitching on the phone with someone regarding a canceled credit card and overpriced travel expenses. Mia and Melissa nosh on oatmeal at the counter, taking small zombie like bites as if they were too tired to care they were eating liquefied cardboard.

  “Where is she?” I charge deeper into the room on the prowl for the dark-haired witch I’m about to put through a wall. I’m not buying Gage’s bullshit for a minute. It’s like I don’t even know him anymore.

  “The eggs are on the stove!” Mom calls from behind.

  Then I see her—Emily Legs-Wide-Open Morgan. She turns from the sink, a wet sponge in her hand and that stupid vacant doll expression on her face.

  “You bitch!” I twist my hands into her shirt and slam her against the refrigerator.

  “Sweet jumping Jehoshaphat!” Tad howls from over my shoulder. “I knew that head doctor should never have been discontinued. Get him on the phone, Lizbeth, and tell him to bring his net!”

  My fingers curl around her neck as I shake the shit out of Emily in a blind rage.

  “Skyla!” Gage barks as he swoops into the room.

  “Don’t worry—you’re next!” My throat burns as I scream out the words. Emily lands a closed fist to my jaw, knocking me back against the stove. I roll into the handle of the frying pan and send sizzling bacon flying into both her and Gage.