Throne of Fire: Celestra Forever After 5

by Addison Moore

  “I know,” he says it cheeky and flirty, and before I know it, Logan Oliver is moving us steadily backward into the darkness, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear the ground were dissolving beneath our feet. The sound of laughter emanates somewhere from behind, and suddenly we’re standing next to an oversized carousel in a land where the sun actually shines so bright it hurts your eyes to witness it.

  I take a quick glance around at the swelling crowds and spot an all too familiar quartet.

  “Oh my God, Logan. What have you done?”

  There are times when I am certain the human body has far more than five senses, and with the sun searing over my back, the warm vanilla scented air drugging me slowly, the sight of my family as we once existed, this is definitely one of them. Thick crowds move around us in a happy thumping rhythm, every third person bopping up and down with a set of mouse ears planted on their head. We’re north of Sleeping Beauty’s castle, standing feet from King Arthur’s Carrousel watching as a younger version of myself struggles with a much younger version of Mia over a stick of cotton candy. My mother—my God, she’s so beautiful with her unlined face, her figure so svelte. She tickles my father’s ribs while trying to cajole him into extricating the silver sword erecting itself proud from the oversized rock before them.

  “Disneyland, Logan?” I’m secretly pleased. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.

  “I knew you’d appreciate it. Don’t tell me what happens.” Logan wraps his arms around me from behind, brushing his lips along my ear as he whispers the words, but I’m too mesmerized by what I’m seeing to breathe a word.

  I know what happens. I know where we are and when. I was fourteen. This would be our family’s final outing to the Magic Kingdom. We had passes because that’s what you do when you live in L.A. But our passes were expiring soon, as was my father. It would be just months before my father was brutally murdered.

  But, my God, look at him. Nathan Messenger is a heart-stopper. I’ve never looked at my father as anything but my sweet dad. However, today with the sun’s magnificent rays kissing his skin, making his hair glow an illusionary shade of red, he looks as if he could be in magazines.

  Dad struggles with the sword, his face piques with color just before he fills with surprise, and Excalibur itself slips from the rock as if it were merely a sheath. An explosion goes off overhead, and an entire cast of characters comes out from seemingly nowhere. Dad is laden with a crown, and a purple robe is wrapped around his body as confetti rains down over us in buckets. Mom has her arms extended into the sky, screaming with joy as if she won a prize—she already had the prize, my father. Mia and I are crying, melting that cotton candy over our shirts until we’re conjoined in one sticky mess. A small parade ensues around the carousel, around Fantasyland, until we land right back at that blessed rock. The cast takes back my father’s robe, but they let him keep the crown.

  “King for a day,” I whisper to Logan with tears streaming down my face.

  Logan relaxes his arms a bit as I lean against him. “Your father is royalty even now, Skyla. You and I both know it.”

  And we do.

  Mom takes Mia and me to the restroom, leaving my father to wander off toward a shop tucked next to the castle.

  “I have to go.” I try to untangle myself from Logan’s hold, but he’s resisting.

  “Whoa.” He cinches his grasp over me. “You sure you want to mess with his head?”

  “Positive.” I break loose, bolt over, and dive a hug right over the man I miss more than I thought possible. Yes, I’ve seen him since he’s passed, but it’s been so long—and there is just something so pure about this moment, this final outing with all the original members of the fab four. “Daddy.” I buck with tears, struggling to take in the scent of his sweet, sweet cologne. His body feels full and solid, and the cool fabric of his shirt is so soothing I’m determined to ask my mother if I could dig through his things until I find this very one.

  “Hey, hey.” He pulls back just enough to get a look at me. “Enough with the tears, princess.” He swipes his thumb lovingly over my cheek. “You’re in the happiest place on Earth, remember?”

  A quiet laugh bubbles from me as I nod up at him. “I just miss you, that’s all.” I do my best to blink away tears. “I love you, Daddy. I love you so much it hurts. You’re everything to me. I think about you all the time. You’re the man of my dreams, and you always will be.”

  He winces. “Laying it on a little thick, are we? Okay, fine, we’ll go back to the gift shop and I’ll buy you and Mia those matching sweatshirts. But at fifty bucks a pop, I’d better see you living in them.” That dimple below his eye dips in, and my entire body turns into a sweet tooth. He nods behind me. “Can I help you, buddy?”

  I gasp, turning to find Logan with his mouth open, not a word coming out.

  “Would you mind?” I hiss while trying to bat him away. I turn back to my father while taking in a ragged breath. “Tourists. He probably wants a selfie with you. You know, the crown and all.”

  “Of course!” He pats the top of his head haphazardly. “Young man, come here. I completely forgot I’m an adopted member of the cast today.”

  Logan doesn’t miss a minute as he squeezes in, and the three of us take a quick picture. He takes off for a gift shop that specializes in little girls’ princess dresses, peering at us from between the coned hats like a proficient stalker.

  “Skyla.” Dad’s features harden as he inspects me. “You look”—he closes his eyes a moment—“Skyla.” My name depresses from his lungs. “You changed your clothes.” His left brow peaks because he’s afraid to say it.

  A trio of familiar voices bubble in this direction, and I turn to see Mom, Mia, and myself taking a moment to stop and look at those cone-shaped hats with their soft pink veils. Logan hands the younger version of me a pink sparkling crown, and I’d swear I were blushing as I take it. Smooth. I can’t help but shake my head at him as the memory suddenly embeds itself.

  “Where did you come from?” Dad staggers back a foot, his hold on me now dangerously loose. “Skyla, what’s going on?”

  “I’m traveling.” I hold a finger to my lips. “We actually call it light driving now.” I give a quick shrug. “Crazy, right?”

  His eyes light up again, that spark, that happy-to-see-me vigor is off the charts, and I want nothing more than to steal him away—for Logan and me to tag along with my family. But his features darken all at once as my mother shouts for Mia and me to put those damn things down, they’re too expensive.

  “I love you.” I nod up at him. “I promise I’m okay. Mom and Mia, we’re all okay.” I don’t have the heart to tell him that he’s not, that he only has months to live.

  His mouth opens for a moment as he looks me over one last time, and he nods as if he understands. But our skin isn’t touching. There is no superhuman power involved in conveying that information—just my broken heart, the unmistakable pain in my eyes.

  I lean up and kiss him, wrapping my arms around him tight once again.

  “Be strong, Skyla,” he whispers furtively into my ear, his grip growing ever so strong. “Be the woman you are destined to be. Celestra is yours. Whatever you do, do not give the enemy a foothold. Our people need you. Never forget that you were born for this. You are a warrior, Skyla. Go and take your victory.” He pulls back and bears hard into my eyes. “I love you.” He dots a quiet kiss over my forehead, and I nod as the moment stretches out for a small eternity, with neither of us breaking our hold, neither of us wanting this cherished moment to end. Hot tears fall hard and fast down both our cheeks, and just like that, the noise, the crowds, the carousel, they all roar back to life.

  A hand snatches me from behind, and before I know it, Logan has us tucked away behind the throngs, as my mother does her best to wrangle her precious clan toward the turkey legs. It was her favorite meal while we were here. A memory comes to me, gray as fog—Mia asked my dad why he was crying, and he said he missed us—a
nd now I know the truth. He was missing us already.

  “Logan Oliver”—I rope him in with a loose embrace, my gaze set on those amber eyes of his, warm as honey—“you’re incredible. You know that?”

  His lips flirt with a smile. “I think we’re incredible.” That pained expression he’s honed so well comes back to him. “I want to give you the world, Skyla. I’d bend over backward. Bend time each and every night to prove it.” The ache emanating from him is undeniably palpable, so raw and anguished it hurts my soul to witness it. The sun is kissing his flesh, blessing him with a tangerine glow that makes him shine like the god he has always been in my eyes. His cheek flickers with the idea of a grin because he heard me. “But this isn’t about me trying to convince you of anything. This is about us stealing a moment and having a little fun.”

  “You always know what I need. Thank you.” My cheeks burn with heat. I can’t help it. Logan’s love for me has always had the power to make me blush. “I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before. My God, the free admission alone would be worth it. Not that I can pull it off. My mother is slowly stripping me of my powers each time I”—my nose wrinkles—“cheat on you.”

  “Good to know.” He strums a dark laugh.

  “I have until my birthday to convince her otherwise.”

  “Or else?” He ticks his head back a notch as if I might blow up on the spot.

  “Or else I become a very sad human.” I’m quick to wave my troubles away. “Anyway, this is incredible. I can’t thank you enough for whisking me away to such a grand adventure.”

  “You’re welcome.” He dots the top of my forehead with a rather platonic kiss. “Did your dad say anything to you?”

  I give a slight nod. “He knew I was traveling. He said I was born for this. That I’m a warrior. He wants me to take the victory.” That I shouldn’t let the enemy get a foothold. I didn’t have it in me to actually speak those words.

  Logan closes his eyes a moment. I know he blames himself. The enemy has more than a foothold. According to Logan, he’s hijacked both my vagina and my DNA. I’ve effectively been conquered, heart, soul, and every inch of my body.

  Logan winces as I shed that last thought. I don’t bother holding up a fort around my thoughts when I’m with Logan. It’s exhausting enough to do with Gage. And that thought stops me cold. It’s instinctual—an autonomic reflex that I can’t seem to help—as if I’m hardwired that way. Most likely an intrusive safety mechanism built-in by my intrusive mother.

  “I got something for you.” He pulls a couple of mouse ears from a blue bag I didn’t even notice he was holding. “Skyla,” he reads the name stitched in bright yellow across the back and hands it to me. “And Logan. That would be me.” He smashes the hat over his head and looks undeniably adorable.

  “Logan. This is beyond sweet,” I coo as I try to get my curls to keep from giving my new cap the boot. “You’re beyond sweet. You didn’t have to do this.”

  “I’d do anything for you. You name it, Skyla, anything.”

  And he does. Logan and I stalk my family all over that amusement park. If they go on a ride, we head over ourselves. We never lose them because my memory of that afternoon is sharp as a razor. But after a dizzying bout on the Tea Cups, Mia’s stomach starts turning, and they’re forced to go home early.

  “I remember how disappointed I was,” I say, relaxing against Logan as he rests his chin on my shoulder from behind. “How outright pissed I was that we needed to leave before the big parade. Mia felt bad, too, but I wasn’t about to make it easy on her.”

  “You were a kid—and you had to leave Disneyland. Anyone would be pissed. But guess what?” He holds out his phone as he snaps a quick picture of the two of us with Sleeping Beauty’s castle spiking in the air behind us. “You’re here now, and I say we’re watching that dang parade.”

  I bubble with laughter while he fidgets with his phone. “What are you doing?”

  “Just checking in with your other half. Letting him know you are safe and sound.”

  “You’re terrible!” I offer a playful swat over his arm. “But what I was going to say is, there’s no way we’re watching the parade.”

  “Why not?” His brows depress, and now Logan looks crestfallen as if I were about to haul him out of here right along with my family.

  “Because everyone knows that’s when the lines are the shortest. We’re hitting the rides, Oliver, and we’re hitting them hard. Come on.” And we do. We exhaust Tomorrowland, Fantasyland, Toontown, Adventureland, Frontier Land, and Critter Country. We scream our heads off on Space Mountain—so much so we jump right back in line once we’re through. Finally, we wrap up the night lazily floating through the twisted blue streams of It’s a Small World as the festooned animatronics do their best to reenergize us with their lively tune. Just as we disembark, the sounds of explosives fill the air as a firework spectacular breaks out in the sky above. It’s magic, this memory we’re making. Logan wraps his arms around my waist, warming me as we gaze up at the glory overhead.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers right over my ear, and if I weren’t so exhausted, I’d accuse him of kissing my temple.

  I spin around, my eyes still pinned on the final spark to ignite the night right up until I feast on something much brighter, Logan Oliver’s fiery eyes.

  A sigh escapes me, something just this side of exasperation. “You’re beautiful, too.”

  His brows pinch with disapproval. “Thank you, I think. But beautiful isn’t really something I’m striving for. How about hotter than hell?” He scratches at his scruff while tipping his nose to the sky.

  “Ha-ha.” A laugh bubbles from me as I give his ribs a quick pinch, causing him to buck. “Yes, you’re hotter than h—” The frame of a slender child catches my eye as a girl in a sheer white dress hooks her haunted eyes to mine before stepping behind a bush. The balloon attached to her wrist floats above the manicured dogwood. A pair of worn gray tennis shoes with the rubber peeling from the canvas stands secure to the ground, toes pointed in my direction as if they were a compass. “Hell,” I breathe the word out. “Logan? Remember when you said you’d do anything for me?”

  He leans in, trying to garner my attention, but I don’t take my eyes off the little shit.

  “What’s going on?” His chest expands like a wall, his breathing suddenly labored. “What do you see? Who are you looking at?”

  “I think you had it right the first time. It’s not a who. It’s a what.” I point over at the seemingly innocent pink balloon. “That kid. Tackle her to the ground and do not let her out of your grasp. I’m going to squeeze the crap out of her until she tells me exactly who she is and why she’s been stalking me for the last six months.”

  “Skyla.” A nervous laugh escapes him. “We’re in the happiest place on Earth. I’m pretty sure accosting children is frowned upon by the security department. We have enough problems with the authorities on Paragon. Trust me, we don’t need to add to it.”

  “Fine.” I slip out of his grasp. “I’ll do it myself.” I take off like a bat out of the bowels of Paragon in Nocturne and leap over the bush like an Olympic hurdler before landing right on top of the tiny tot. The string of that silly balloon nearly decapitates me in the process, and I choke while she screams her lungs off like a cat on fire.

  “Mommy!” Her voice shrills to the sky. “Mommy! Help me!” One shrill cry after another, ear-piercing, ear-splitting.

  A body lands over my back.

  “Skyla!” Logan roars like a lion as an entire army of feet run in this direction.

  A frantic woman in yoga pants, face plain as toast, a flannel tied around her waist yanks the little girl up by the wrist as if pulling her out of the bottom of a swimming pool.

  “My wife tripped.” Logan yanks me behind him in a way that suggests I should shut the hell up. “I’m sorry.” He bends over to the distraught little girl, her face partially buried in her mother’
s thigh. “You okay, princess?”

  “She’s fine.” Her mother answers for her as she limps off with the little girl still attached at the leg.

  “Shit.” Logan glowers at me, both our chests pulsating with every other breath. “What the hell was that about?”

  I shake my head, my mind racing with the horror of what I might have done. “There’s no way I would hurt a child. Logan, I swear I thought it was her.” I glance back in the little girl’s direction as Logan wraps an arm around me as if he’s trying to hold me up, and at this point he might be.

  “She’s over there.” He points near a pretzel vendor as the girl and her mother walk slowly past the crowd, dissolving in the murky darkness.

  The girl turns around, her eyes bright as silver, the curve of a wicked grin lifting her cheeks as she looks right at me. That nefarious smile, those glowing demon-inspired eyes, her entire body ignites in a flame, spontaneous combustion. Her mouth opens unnaturally wide as she belts out a howl.

  My body thumps alive with a heartbeat of its own. My hair stands on end as Logan hisses expletives into my ear. A fireball races from her mouth, enveloping us in its hellish fury, and every inch of my skin sears with the sting of flames.

  A wild scream rockets from me as my limbs writhe in a spastic dance.

  “Hey! Hey!” A uniformed man grabs ahold of me as Logan struggles to pull me back toward the bushes out of the roving eye of the park guests. “Everything okay?”

  “Shit,” Logan hisses into my ear. Get it together. His hand depresses over mine. He clears his throat. “Sorry. She saw Mickey. She’s a big fan. I’d better get some dinner in her. I’ll make sure she keeps her cool from here on out.”

  The gangly man with an angular jaw inspects me a moment as if looking for traces of sanity on my face. “Good enough. Enjoy the rest of your night.” He takes off, and it’s only then I note the broom and dustpan in his hand.