Roar of the Lion : Celestra Forever After 7

by Addison Moore

  Gage takes a measured breath as he studies us all for a moment. “Fine. I’ll come back.” A wicked smile twitches on his lips. “I hope your little meet and greet went well for you.” He nods my way. “It’s good to see you trying.” He takes off the way he came, and a stilted silence clogs up the room.

  Wes takes off. Ellis pulls me into a hard embrace and vows to help me get the hell back where I belong, and then Logan walks him to the stairs as they chat about something regarding the Christmas tree lot Logan owns and operates behind the bowling alley. Not too long ago he discovered he held onto much more acreage than he thought. He and Ellis even opened up a gym next door to the bowling alley.

  Brody comes my way, his eyes wide and wet with moisture.

  “Chloe?” he whispers as if he were speaking directly into his sister’s soul. “I’m proud of you.”

  Gag me. Chloe is quick to contend the kind words.

  “She says thank you”—I shrug—“in the only way she knows how.”

  Brody belts out a quick laugh. “Don’t worry, Skyla. She can’t offend me. And believe me, she’s tried her best.” He gives me a pat on the arm while leaning in to look into my eyes. “Don’t screw this up, Chloe. You’re doing well. I’m going to help you any way I can. I will never forget about you. I will never let you down.” He brushes a soft kiss to my cheek before taking off.

  You have a wonderful brother, I tell her.

  Chloe remains silent, and I can feel her heart soar and break all at once.

  Laken comes over while Coop stays behind looking at something on his phone, his lips twisting with worry.

  “Skyla?” She shakes her head before hugging me once again. “I’m so very sorry.” She pulls back with tears in her eyes. “You have to know that I love you no matter whose body you’re in.” A tiny laugh bleats from her. “Words I thought I’d never say.”

  “Yes, well, Gage has driven us all to places we never thought we’d go.”

  Coop darts a quick look my way before heading over.

  “Skyla.” He pulls me in quickly. “I just want you to know that Wes is talking about something private. Something silly he’s hoping will embarrass me.” He shrugs to Laken. “You ready?”

  “Cooper.” Her brows furrow. “What is it? Skyla is right. We shouldn’t have any secrets.”

  I nod. “And Wesley’s right. Laken doesn’t care for them.” Neither do I, but Lord knows Laken packs a bigger punch with those two.

  Coop’s expression sours. “Don’t worry. When the time is right, I’ll lay it all out there.” He glances to the stairwell.

  I take a step in. “Does it affect Celestra?”

  He looks my way, his eyes glowing in the bright light of the lab.

  Coop swallows hard, and I think I have my answer.

  “Don’t worry, Skyla,” he whispers. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt our people.”

  We say a quick goodbye, and he ushers Laken out of here like a man on a mission.

  Coop says he wouldn’t do anything to hurt our people.

  Where have I heard that before?

  Logan and I have been sneaking off to Whitehorse whenever we can—to the butterfly room he built for me there. We watch the butterflies dance and flutter, hypnotizing us into believing that all will end well for us and for Celestra. He holds me and I did sneak in a kiss or two, but he can’t help but grimace. I can’t blame the poor guy. Chloe did lop his head off and cause him so much heartache and pain. Even Logan has his limits.

  As for me, well, I’m in Chloe’s body. I don’t see her face, I feel every bit like the old me. And when I see Chloe’s face in the mirror, it simply feels as if I’m in the room with her. I don’t feel as if I am her. And, of course, I hear her constant commentary on just about everything running on a ceaseless loop. It turns out, Chloe Bishop has an opinion on just about everything.

  Damn right I do, she interjects. Now let’s get ready for Rory’s pretty pink panty party tonight. I want to look good. None of that cheap shit you put on your face. Head back to Brody’s. He’s worried about me.

  I’m seated in the Landon family room, the sun just came up, and I’m already cradling a cup of coffee. I’ve spent the last few nights on the sofa, and no one has batted a lash. It’s a pleasure just seeing the boys when they wake up. I turn on the TV for them and get them breakfast. It all feels so strangely normal, sans the fact I can’t smother them with kisses. But I plan to. And it will be bliss.

  I’ve been texting Brody nonstop, I’m quick to tell her. By the way, I think it’s adorable the way he cares for you.

  Honestly, I think he’s the only one that cares for Chloe at all.

  You’re right, she pipes up. And it doesn’t bother me one bit.

  I shake my head. First, it has to bother you because you’re a person. And second, it bothers me.

  Get over it, she snips. Unlike you, I’m truly focused on the Factions. Your mother might have used me as some sort of a decoy, but I’m still in it to win it. Celestra sits supreme, and maybe I don’t really care if you sit on the seat. But I’ll put you there. I just need Gage to suffer for what he did to me. It’s become my dual purpose in life. Celestra gets the gold, and Gage Oliver lives in misery.

  I sigh just hearing it. You loved Gage as much as I did. And let’s get real. I’m not sure either one of us is truly over him. He’s still in there. He has to be. How does one morph into a monster out of the blue? It just doesn’t make sense. You knew his soul. You fell in love with it. I did, too. He could have been disfigured in an accident, but we would have loved him just the same. I’m not sure this spiritual disfigurement is any different. In the shadow of the day, if we are truly honest with ourselves, we can admit it. We’re just not over him.

  Emily walks in with her hair every which way like a smashed and thrashed pompom, her jeans on, and a terrifying mask of a bloody werewolf in her in hand.

  “You ready to do this, Bishop?”

  “Yuppers.” I jump to my feet.

  Emily grunts as she produces another equally terrifying mask from behind her back and tosses it my way—a bloody zombie with an eye that hangs to the middle of his cheek. And oddly enough, it reminds me of the day I kicked Gage Oliver’s resurrected ass.

  She shakes her head. “Don’t you think it’s strange that Logan okayed this?”

  I think on it a moment. Emily is smart. If I’m not careful, she might just figure out my true identity all on her own. Not that I’m entirely opposed to it, but I’m not taking my big reveal further than I already have.

  “Yes,” I say. “It’s really weird. But then, Messenger has been a total bitch to him and the kids lately. Maybe Logan thinks a good scare will make her chill out a bit? Besides, it’s not like it was my idea. Laken came up with the dreamy scheme.”

  That’s not entirely true. I came up with the dreamy scheme myself but asked Laken to play it off as if it were her brainstorm. Rory isn’t getting any big hints as to my identity either.

  And as for the big dreamy scheme, well, let’s just say I pulled a page out of the Bitch Squad playbook when I came up with this one. Rory is about to undergo a good old-fashioned, somewhat good-natured, kidnapping. I went out and bought hideous Halloween masks that were thankfully heavily discounted. Chloe really is living on a shoestring budget.

  Laken, Bree, Nat, Em, Lexy, and I are about to greet Rory with our game faces on and a couple of baseball bats—not to beat my old body with, just to further intimidate her. The plan is to get her good and frightened out of her mind before we throw a pillowcase over her head and lock her in the back of the trunk of the Mustang for the day. Logan made sure to pop a taillight—or something to that effect—so my poor body wouldn’t suffocate twice in one lifetime. And then in a few hours, we’ll start the bachelorette party with the rest of the horrors I have planned for my not-so sweet sis.

  “Let’s do it,” I say, shaking my mask out. The rest of the girls are already in the foyer, and we head upstairs to my room as quietly as w
e can.

  Logan passes us in the hall, and I stay back and give baby Jaxson a brush with my lips while the other girls enter the room.

  I filled my mother in on the hellish shenanigans, and she said she wouldn’t mind a bit. It’s nice to know my mother still believes in a good-natured ribbing even if she does know all about the difficulties the Factions have been having. It’s clear the woman can’t be trusted.

  I stride over to Laken, and she nods my way.

  “Ready, Bishop?” She gives a little wink.

  “Ready and willing to rock Messenger’s world,” I say as I hold up the pillowcase in my left hand. “And I get to do the honors.” We don our hideous masks, burst into the room while I flick the lights on and off, and watch as Rory quickly gets tangled up in the sheets.

  “What in high heaven?” The words rip from her as she jumps against the wall, her feet clawing into the mattress as if she couldn’t get away quick enough. “What’s going on? Logan?” she shouts as she tries to crane her neck past us. “Lizbeth? Call the police!”

  Em staggers forward, swinging the bat in her hand precariously close to my old face, and I watch as the former version of myself screams.

  “Monsters!” Rory yelps. “My God, the Fems have taken over and they’ve come to beat me! I’m not who you think I am!” she shouts it loud and clear, but I recognize that tremble in my voice as unmitigated fear. “You have the wrong person! Don’t kill me! I’m one of you!”

  Nice to know that Rory doesn’t mind exposing herself when she thinks her neck is on the line.

  Welcome to the human experience, I want to say. You can’t always pick and choose your destiny.

  I zoom over and shove the pillowcase over her head, and Nat scoops her off the bed and tosses her over her shoulder like a bodybuilder. In truth, I’m not sure Nat needed to use her Nephilim-issued strength to pick her up so easily.

  Michelle wastes no time in binding Rory’s feet with a zip tie, and Lexy does the same with her hands.

  Rory shouts and cries for her mother, which I’m assuming isn’t the one living under this roof.

  We wrestle her down the stairs, out the front door, and into the waiting open maw of the Mustang’s trunk—thanks to Logan and his unusual level of acceptance to my hostile kidnapping.

  I have the pleasure of whipping off that pillowcase and watching as she gives a horrified look at her new surroundings.

  “Don’t worry, Skyla,” I smear the words with just the right amount of Bishop sarcasm. “Your party will officially begin in just a few hours.”

  I slam the trunk shut and the five of us take off our masks just as Bree ambles down the driveway with a coffee cup in hand, the remnants of sleep still in her eyes.

  “Did I miss it?”

  “Yup,” I say, shaking out my hair. “But don’t worry. We’re still getting to the good part.”

  True to our word, the six of us congregate back to the Mustang once we’ve primped and coiffed and donned our barely-there little black dresses and appropriately vexing yet equally sexy footwear. But it’s been far more than a few hours. It’s a little past six, looks and feels more like midnight, and the fog is so thick it gives each of us a ghostly appeal.

  Laken shudders as we all stare at the Mustang in silence. “Do you think she’s okay?”

  I give a quick nod. “There’s no way her mother in the sky would let anything happen to her.” I roll my eyes at the thought. Ironically, my mother in the sky did let something happen to me—something that permeates life itself, called death. And now a part of me wonders if this was a good idea after all.

  I pop the trunk and the stench of ammonia reeks from it, causing us all to recoil and groan.

  Lex grunts as she waves her hand over her nose. “She’s pissed herself.”

  Michelle leans in. “She probably shit herself, too.”

  Nat pokes Rory with her finger. “God, I think she’s dead.”

  “No, she’s not dead. I’m honestly not that lucky.” I pluck her up by the hair, and Rory lets out a curdling scream.

  “Mother!” she cries, and nary a fragment of lightning illuminates the sky. Maybe this is it, the big moment I knew was inevitably coming. Candace Messenger has moved on to far more important things, and she’s allowing Rory and me to destroy one another in grand fashion.

  “Oh my goodness.” She retches as she sticks her head out of the trunk, and all six of us jump back a notch.

  Lexy points her way. “Do not puke on my brand-new heels, Messenger, or I will make you shit your pants all over again.”

  “She didn’t shit her pants,” I say, yanking her out of the trunk. “Relax, Messenger. I’ve got clothes for you.” The stench of hours old urine hits me and I gag. “Laken, get the hose from the planter bed.”

  “Chloe”—Laken makes wild eyes at me—“she’ll get pneumonia and die.”

  “I won’t wet her hair. I’m just giving her tail a quick splash or we’ll die inhaling the fumes.”

  Laken does as she’s told, while I help disrobe a very disoriented Rory and quickly hose her off.

  Her cries are sublimely vitriolic and frightening straight down to the bone, and yet not a soul has come out from the Landon house to see if I’m all right. Good to know.

  Lexy works with me to dress her, and soon enough, Rory is sporting a pair of black fishnet stockings, a sparkling pink tutu constructed with enough tulle to wrap around the Eiffel Tower twice, and a red leather bustier—something I dug up out of Chloe’s closet.

  You’re welcome, Chloe snips. Now let’s get some action. I want to see men.

  A thought comes to me. Rory likes men—a bit too much if you ask me.

  Bree helps Rory step into a pair of clear plastic heels that light up pink and blue with every step.

  “I’m so pretty!” Rory bounces on the balls of her feet. “Where are we going? I hope I get a pretty pink cake.”

  “Oh, you’ll get a pretty pink something.” I smear a wicked grin. “We’re headed to Seattle.”

  Chloe chuckles. Remember our little trip out that way? I believe it was for another rotten bachelorette party and we were both knocked up. You had to have two kids to my one. Always trying to one-up me, aren’t you, Skyla?

  I grunt, I remember. That was a horrible night. The twins’ Fem powers kept misfiring, and I was hallucinating for the better half of the night.

  Bree, Laken, Nat, Michelle, Lexy, Em, Rory, and I caravan our way to the pier then hop onto the ferry as we head for the mainland.

  Logan made me promise to text him, via Laken’s phone, of course, and there are copious amounts of please tell Coop I love him, lest Rory decides to go psycho on poor Logan for cheating on her.

  We finally hit Seattle before we Uber our way to our first destination of the night, a strip club I researched while I was whittling away my time at Marshall’s this afternoon—Timberland Beavers. Their tagline is the place to get good wood.

  “Hey!” Nat barks as soon as she sees the cartoon silhouette of a woman. “We’re at the wrong place.” She whips out her phone in an effort to rectify the situation, and I carefully cover my hand over the screen.

  “We’re in the right place,” I snip. “I thought we’d show Messenger a real good time.”

  Nat, Lexy, Em, Michelle, Bree, and even Laken look as if they want to slaughter me.

  Rory is up ahead looking at her reflection in the mirrored window as she fluffs up her pink tutu and tap-dances in those light-up shoes Bree stuffed her—my—feet into.

  Laken ticks her head to the side. “Remember, this is my one night away from the kids. I really don’t want to watch a bunch of naked women dancing.”

  I twist my lips. “I’m sorry, but I want to make sure Ro—Messenger has a real crappy time. It’s not fair she’s always getting what she wants. And don’t any of you feel sorry for her either. She’s marrying Logan Oliver, for Pete’s sake. She’ll have more wood than she knows what to do with for the rest of her life. The man is essentially a god.
She’s a spoiled little princess, and this is my—our harmless way of taking her down a notch. Just for the night.”

  Em grunts, “I don’t know. She did free my brother from a fate worse than death.”

  Something warms in me to hear her finally admit it. The Viden youth belong to me now—to Celestra. It’s nice to know Em regards me for that.

  Nat shakes her head. “Skyla gave me extra time with Pierce—and Kate. I can never forget that.”

  Chloe groans. Remind the ditz that you hacked the girl’s head off to begin with.

  “Yes, well, she killed Kate. It was a blatant homicide, we all know that.” Kate was our old friend way back when—and yes, I did accidentally chop her head off with my skis. “And if the judicial system isn’t going to make her pay for her sins, I say we step in and give her a night of penitentiary-worthy hell.”

  Michelle gawks up at the silhouette of the girl with the open legs and nods. “I see the connection now.”

  Michelle looks like a lady of the night herself with her long hair curled and slightly teased, dark smoky eyes and scarlet glossy lips.

  Chloe snorts. And get a load of those shiny latex hot pink leggings. That fishnet top with the hot pink bra peeking out from underneath?

  Michelle shoots me the stink eye. “What are you looking at, Bishop?”

  “Just wondering where I might pick up an outfit like that.” I give a sly smile. “Hookers R Us?”

  Lexy belts out a laugh.

  “You’re no better, Lex,” I say, glancing down at the tight sweater dress she’s donned. It’s green, looks as if it were knit together with feathers, or eyelashes, take your pick, and it hardly covers her ass. “You look like a slutty Christmas tree.”

  Lexy’s mouth falls open. “You bitch.”

  Bree chortles like a hyena. “What about me, Chloe?” She gives a little curtsy in her bright red coat before flashing it open, only to reveal a sheer lace dress in which she’s opted not to bother with undergarments.