Throne of Fire: Celestra Forever After 5

by Addison Moore

  “Ms. Messenger.” He takes a full step back. His arms, however, refuse to unleash themselves from me, but shockingly he does look markedly pissed.

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’re the man, Marshall. Heck, you’re the Sector—large and in charge.” I vacuum myself back to that granite chest of his, and my lips tremble as I soak in the pleasurable feel. My entire body is purring right along with him and, Chloe be damned, I’m going to stay right here for a while enjoying the hell out of myself. Gage moves into view from over Marshall’s shoulder, and I feel a twinge of guilt.

  “Slaughtering Bishop?” He gives a wistful shake of the head. “So your mother is through with her.”

  “Who cares? I’m through with her. That’s what’s important here.”

  He frowns down at me, and I don’t care to pick at the subject with him any further.

  “Who is Shelly to wed?” It comes out in a low growl. The disapproval in his voice is palpable even before he’s been apprised of her suitor’s name. Quite frankly, I think it’s adorable how smitten Marshall has always been with Michelle. I’m not the least bit jealous.

  “Nor should you be. You hold my heart like no other.” He blesses the top of my head with a kiss. My mouth rounds out in surprise. “Scandalous, Mr. Dudley. You can get fired for making out with a student, you know.”

  “I won’t. Answer the question.”

  I glance over at the old Michelle and Chloe still going at it with a heated rage in the corner. Michelle just managed to dodge that haunted rose necklace Marshall gifted her. It was a training ground for Fems—acting as a portal that terrorized poor Michelle. Yes, Marshall was the culprit responsible for her bout of insanity. I never said his love wasn’t dangerous.

  “Liam Oliver.” I make a face at the sexy Sector. “My mother has allowed him to come back. And, honestly, I think the only thing Shelly sees in him is a quick fix to her favorite Oliver—Logan. Anyway, Liam doesn’t seem to mind. He’s all about getting an all access pass between Michelle’s thighs. All they do is f—”

  “Stop.” His brows lift with the reprimand.

  “All they do is bump like bunnies. Anyway, that’s why we’re here—that and the fact I’m going to send Chloe to the great beyond.” I glance past him a second and find Gage milling around by the door. “You know, I see someone I need to speak to. Meet me out on the beach in about a half hour if you want to catch the show.” I take off despite his directives to get back here right this very minute. Marshall does have the ability to produce a chuckle in me more often than not. But I’m in no mood to obey him, not at the moment, and most likely not ever. I’ve got a mind of my own, and right about now I like where it’s going.

  I hack my way through the endless bodies until I latch onto Gage Oliver’s hand and pull him into the darkened hall to our left.

  “Hey, big boy. Miss me much?” I land a heated kiss to his lips, and Gage dives in like a dying man in the desert, thirsty for that first satisfying drink. Gage tastes minty fresh, his cologne a touch powerful, but the formal occasion calls for it. I run my palms over his smooth cool suit and take in how solid he feels, how real.

  He pulls back and inspects me a moment in this dim light. “You look different. Where’s your dress?”

  “Um, I—”

  “Never mind. You look stunning.” His thumb brushes over my cheek. “There’s something electric about you, your beauty—it’s magnified, and I can’t put my finger on it.” He dots my lips with a searing kiss.

  “Well, thank you. Someone is going to get very lucky tonight.” I giggle into him, and his eyes widen, nothing but twin pools of cobalt. I suck in a quick breath. My God, I just propositioned Gage, and technically, we haven’t slept together yet. “I mean, with kisses.” I wince. “And smart move on your part for not saying I look older.” I give a cheesy wink, suddenly uncomfortable with my own husband.

  “Older?” He inches back a notch. “Why would you be—” His head tips back a moment. “You’re light driving.”

  “And having a hell of a good time.” I give his rock-hard bottom a squeeze.

  “Hey—if I’m about to get lucky tonight, that must mean—”

  Now it’s me placing a finger over his lips in fear Logan’s roving soul is listening in. “Never mind. Just know, I love you and I’m fighting for us.” My chest bucks with unexpected emotion, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from hopping on his lap and making him mine right here at junior prom. “Um—I think you’d better check out the parking lot. Rumor has it, Bree is ready to throw a baby pass, and you’re the designated catcher.” I grimace at the thought. “It’ll all work out for us, I promise.” I dot another kiss to his lips and pull him back out to the masses before ditching into the tangle of bodies.

  Instead of feeling elated that I just shared a heated kiss with the father of my children, I feel as if I lied to him. I have no clue if everything will work out for us. Gage and I have been walking a tightrope ever since he came back from the dead.

  I spot Chloe, Em, and Michelle—future versions—causing a riot on the dance floor as they lose it to the music, not really caring that the girls from East keep giving them the side-eye over their lack of formal fashion sense. I head over and throw myself in the middle, swaying my hips with the best of them. And for one freeing moment, the chains from all the troubles weighing me down loosen and I'm just existing, just having fun. This, right here, is what I thought high school would be like—carefree, lost in the music of my blissful life unlike the reality of fighting Fems, marrying them, wasting my time and energy killing Chloe and making sure she stays on the right side of eternity.

  Marshall takes the stage and calls up the royal court. There I am, angry, yet looking quite nice if I don’t say so myself. Next to me stands Logan Oliver’s body infiltrated with that perv Holden Kragger and I’m forced to watch as we’re crowned king and queen. It would be a pleasure if the real Logan Oliver weren’t swimming around in that dress of mine in spirit form. The music kicks in again, and no sooner do we start to sway than a horrible scream comes from our left and everyone around us freezes.

  All eyes drift toward the ceiling as the cries of horror increase.

  “Oh, how I love this moment,” I whisper as I take a few steps toward Chloe. “This is precisely why I chose this night.”

  There she is. The Chloe Bishop of yesteryear dangles from the chandelier, her necklace, my precious protective hedge, acting as a noose. I clutch the pendant around my own neck right now, same one, and shed a private smile. Chloe’s red dress glitters like an exotic ruby as she gives a silent spin. “So beautiful.” I pull my phone out and snap a picture for posterity. “My new screensaver.” I flash it before her eyes, but she’s too mesmerized by her own demise to notice.

  “Here you come,” she whispers. “You were determined.”

  “To get Mia back.” Mia was missing in that demented funhouse mirror Demetri gifted my mother, and Chloe was her ticket out of that hellscape.

  We speed over to the human pyramid built by West’s formidable cheer squad and observe as I lower the witch to safety.

  I watch as the old me arranges Chloe’s hair around her like a dark halo, or more to the point, a bevy of squiggly snakes. Chloe is Medusa in every possible way—snakes emanating from the top of her head, nothing but a foul stench for a soul.

  “Oh, my sweet little bitch”—this old version of me coos—“how I hope you rest in peace.”

  “Beautiful,” I whisper, offering a soft applause. “Poetry in motion.” I snap another picture, and it warms my heart to see Chloe drifting off to hell.

  The crowd stills around us as we blissfully watch the color bleed out from Chloe Bishop’s face—alabaster, basalt, then a glorious shade of blue.

  Chloe nudges me in the arm. “Keep that phone out. Here comes my hero. Make sure you get a picture of his mouth covering mine. Oh hell, I’ll do it.”

  Gage Oliver storms in, bloodied and looking a bit pale himself. He’s j
ust helped deliver baby Beau in the parking lot, and I watch as he furtively takes in the scene. He rushes over and hops on top of Chloe, offering mouth-to-mouth until the demon retches back to life. Of course, I block Chloe’s meager attempt at recording the past with my hand, but she doesn’t put up too big of a fight.

  “That’s all right, Skyla. I have the memory. His lips against mine, his breath inside me. It’s a powerful elixir and pulls me through my darkest hours.”

  I can’t help but roll my eyes. “The only reason he did it is because he knew I wouldn’t. Besides, good thing we kept you around for kicks—you inadvertently helped to free Ezrina. And as fate would have it—we no longer need you for anything, Chloe. Gage isn’t going to be there to play the part of hero this time. It’s just you and me and a little old-fashioned homicide.”

  Her chest thumps as she huffs at the thought, but it’s the panic in her eyes that I appreciate most.

  I glance to the exit that leads to the beach. “Soon it will be time to off Holden, and I don’t want to miss the show.”

  “You mean off Logan. You killed him first. Remember that, Skyla? You killed him.”

  “I simply killed Logan long enough to get Holden Kragger’s spirit to vacate the premises. And then Logan’s spirit, who was infused in my dress at the time, thanks to Marshall, went right into his own body when the proper time arrived.”

  “Then you killed Pierce in the woods that night and Holden zipped right into that body.” She taps the side of her cheek. “I wonder whose body I’ll find to occupy next?”

  “It doesn’t work that way, and you know it. My mother happened to be present with the Pierce-Holden debacle and was in charge of the reshuffling of souls and bodies. Her presence won’t be needed for what I’m about to do to you.”

  “Maybe I’ll be your sister? Mia? She’s as klutzy as you are. My God, I could be boning Gabriel Armistead in the next hour.” She sticks her tongue out as if the thought made her sick.

  “You will not be Mia. She is safe and sound. And trust me, you are no sister of mine. I happen to have met my quota on those.”

  An unruly looking redhead catches my eye as she heads to the exit, and just as I’m about to glower at her, a breath gets locked in my throat at the sight of the person by her side.

  “Chloe.” It’s all I can manage.

  “What is it?” She leans in and winces toward my line of vision.

  “Who’s that little girl with Melody?” It’s her, the demon child with the choking horse, the one who’s been stalking me for the better half of the last year. “She’s definitely not human.”

  “Please, Skyla, half the people in this room aren’t human,” she grunts. “I don’t know who the little bitch is. Who cares?”

  “I care.” I take her by the hand as we speed for the exit. “You’re going to help me catch her.”

  “And what do I get out of the deal?” She pulls her hand from my grasp as we hit the exit and step out into the briny night air. “Let me live, and I’ll deliver her to you like a gift on Christmas.”

  I think on it a moment. “Fine.” I am not above lying to Chloe. Besides, I’m far more interested in the little witch than I am in killing this big one next to me at the moment. Anything I can get out of Chloe is nothing more than a win for me.

  We spot them by a palm tree that the hotel has planted around the periphery to give it that false tropical feel everyone craves so much around here. Just as we head in that direction their conversation ceases and they both look our way with the whites of their eyes the size of volleyballs.

  “She’s skittish,” I whisper. “And she’s a runner.”

  “Something tells me she’s an evaporator, too,” Chloe muses. “Don’t worry, Skyla. The little bitch will be yours to spit on, kick, or whatever bodily harm you plan on committing to that poor innocent child.” Chloe takes off and the girl bolts into the woods to our left quicker than lightning, and I go after Moody Mel.

  Melody straightens, paralyzed for a moment like a wild animal caught in the headlights, her hair glowing in the night like an unwanted blaze. Just as I get within tackling range, she goes right, but my leg extends and I send her face-first into the sand.

  “You did it, didn’t you?” I riot into her ear, and her head tips back as she lets out an agonizing scream. “You killed Gage!” I knee her in the back as I grind her face into the sand, hoping to smother her to death on the spot.

  She chokes and writhes as she struggles to free herself from my grip. I can feel her Nephilim powers kicking in, roaring to life like an enormous engine, and I initiate mine ten times faster—only they feel far weaker than usual. Just transporting the entire lot of us over here wore me out in an unnatural way. Melody spins, and I pin her arms above her head. Footsteps fall hard to my left as Chloe runs over—disappointingly alone.

  “Who was that girl with you and what does she want?” I pant over Mel’s pasty skin and can’t help but wish I could push her back through time—all the way back to the seventeenth century.

  “I don’t know her name.” She gags like she might vomit, and I help her up to a sitting position, my limbs still locked over hers. “She came to me. She asked, isn’t it a wonderful party. And I asked what she was doing here. She’s just a kid, for God’s sake.” She turns her head and spits into the sand.

  “Did she say anything else?” My entire body is drumming like one giant heartbeat.

  Melody’s face contorts, probably having a hard time deciding which lie to spew next. “She said something about how freeing it is to see the world. She says she would have liked it.”

  “Would have liked it?” I glance to Chloe. “Where did she go?”

  “She ran into a tree at top speed, and then she was gone.” Chloe taps the side of her cheek, revealing a nasty red welt. “I, however, didn’t disappear. I hit the damn thing like it was a wall.”

  “Don’t worry, Chloe,” I say. “You’ll disappear soon enough.”

  I turn my attention back to Melody and look into those odd frightened eyes. “Why did you kill Gage that night? Is it because he wouldn’t have you? Or because Demetri put you up to it?” I’m pretty certain the options were limited. Perhaps all of the above.

  A howl of laughter comes streaming from behind as a double set of footfalls thump over the sand like a heartbeat. I turn and spot Logan and me—correction, Holden and me with our newly minted crowns as we tumble over the shoreline lost in wet sloppy kisses.

  “Here it is,” I whisper. My body loosens a moment, and Melody kicks me in the face before taking off like a rat in flight. “Shit!” I yelp as I touch my hand to my bottom lip, revealing a crimson stain on my fingertips. “You little witch!” I call after her. “Good luck finding your own way home!” Now there’s a thought. I should leave the entire lot of them here and solve a hell of a lot of problems. Or cause them. Who knows what havoc they’d wreak if left to their own devices. I know for a fact that destiny in general can’t be altered too much, but I’m pretty sure it would put the past out of tune like a bad guitar. And I’m also sure we’d be singing that rotten song for years.

  A dark figure heads our way, a raven-haired beauty, skin as pale as death, her lips smeared with black lipstick.

  “Emerson.” I pat the sand next to me, still breathless from trying to wrangle a few truths from Melody. I should have snapped her neck and asked questions in the afterlife, sort of the way she did with Gage—if indeed she is his killer. I wouldn’t have believed Chloe were innocent if it weren’t for my mother leading me back to the scene of the gruesome crime. And, much like my twisted mother and her beloved head games—no pun intended—she left out the identity of the true killer for me to figure out. “Take a seat,” I say as both Emerson and Chloe fall next to me. “See that couple making out on the sand? I’m about to pull Logan to the deep end of the ocean and drown the life right out of him. Take note. I’m about to do the same to Chloe in a few short minutes.”

  Emerson grunts, “My dad is right. You’r
e all talk and no action.”

  “What?” I balk at the fact Arson Kragger has the nerve to speak about me in such a way. “Your dad is lucky he’s still alive and kicking. I’m on a homicidal spree that spans time continuums and earthly planes. Believe me, no one is safe.”

  She makes a face while growling at the sea. “He says your army isn’t ready for war. That’s why the Barricade is so safe. There. My work as a snitch is done.”

  “What? He’s underestimating me. The reason they feel so safe is because I’m slow to unleash hell on earth. A Faction war at this point would be deadly. We’ve done it once and it was hard, but nothing like the bloodbath it would be now. Wesley has the Factions fighting against their own brothers. It’s unprecedented. Unheard of.”

  “It’s genius,” Chloe bleats as we watch the old me and pseudo-Logan roll out into the waves. It was at this point I got the bright idea to latch onto him and swim the hell away from shore like a dolphin on a deadly mission, and I sort of was one.

  Wesley is an evil genius, so I don’t bother contesting Chloe’s thought. Instead, the three of us rise to our feet and strain our vision to enjoy Holden getting the life snuffed out of him. In the distance, I can see me struggling, bearing down over Logan’s shoulders as if I were giving birth before casually letting him pop up like a cork.

  “And just like that, Logan Oliver found a new home.” I look to Chloe, and a slow spreading smile crests my lips. “Now that I’ve had a refresher course of how to kill an idiot, I think I’m up for my second murder of the night.” With reflexes that defy sight or logic, I whip the protective hedge off my neck—an adornment I’ve picked up on wearing again after the boys stopped trying to eat the Eye of Refuge—and slip it over Chloe’s neck like a noose before cinching the chain tight as my Celestra powers will allow. Her fingernails claw at her throat before latching onto my arms and doing their best to pluck me off.

  “Shit!” Emerson barks as we witness Chloe’s tongue hanging out fat and wide, her eyes swelling to the size of tennis balls. Her color goes from pallid to putrid, a dull purple, the beginnings of a bright beautiful blue. “Her neck!” Emerson jumps with what I’m willing to bet is excitement. I glance down briefly and, my God, Chloe’s neck is pinched off to the size of a silver dollar in the very spot the chain is working its magic.