Skyla chuckles. “Those things stay here, Gage Oliver.” Her eyes meet mine with a sting. “And so do you.” She rises and gathers the diaper bag, readying to leave.
Giselle shouts for everyone to open the rest of their gifts at once, and much to my mother’s protest an unwrapping-fest ensues.
“Skyla, wait.” I’m about to impart my best plea when Mom pops up with a small bag and hands it to Skyla.
“This too is for the boys.” Mom offers Skyla her best smile. And even though her lips are hiked in the right direction, there’s something sinister in her tone and my gut twists. Who the hell knows where this is headed. “And this you may take with you.” She tips her head to Skyla as if to trump her.
“Oh, the suspense.” Skyla glances from my mother to me without the right amount of enthusiasm. “I can hardly wait.” She reaches into the tiny red bag and pulls out a small brown bottle. “Syrup of ipecac?” Skyla shakes her head at the two of us as if to ask the question.
“That’s right.” Mom beams. “Now that’s something they can really use.” Her eyes grow wide the way they do when she’s sure she’s bested someone. “It’s to be administered in the event they’ve accidentally been poisoned. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She traipses off toward Giselle and coos at whatever it is Santa has gifted my sister.
Skyla shoves the bottle back into the bag with a marked aggression. “I’d say thank you if I could, but I really don’t think I can. I’d better go before I accidently poison someone”—she glares hard at me—“and it won’t be either of the boys.”
“Don’t go,” I plead when I know I shouldn’t. In all honesty, it’s a bad idea that either of us stays. Skyla is right about my mother. She’s always been right, and it took almost losing her to see this. God, I haven’t lost her, have I? “Things are just about to kick into high gear. I have a gift for Giselle from the two of us. A walking talking robot that will follow her around that big mansion—and it even says her name. I got it half off. I couldn’t resist.”
“Oh? I think things have already kicked into high gear.” Her voice swings heavily toward sarcasm. “What with talk of custody delineation, the rousing discussion on how I no longer have access to my own children’s gifts, and let’s not forget the Christmas traditions you’ll be starting on your own. That stocking debacle is quite the ode to your new family—one without me.”
“I would never cut you out. You are my family.” I block her from bolting. “You are the reason I live and breathe. You and these boys are my life,” I grit the words in an effort to keep it together. “I will protect you until the day I die, and then I’ll protect you from beyond the grave. There is no power in this universe that can stop me.”
Her chest expands the way it does just before we get intimate. And what I wouldn’t do to get intimate with my wife one more time. Tonight preferably.
“Except Demetri,” she says as she scoops up the car seat and sets it on the sofa.
“Don’t put the baby down,” I bark it out like an order without meaning to. “We’re taking a family picture. I navigate her to the tree, surprisingly without protest, and hand my phone to Logan. “Just a few quick ones.” I cradle Barron in my right arm as Skyla holds Nathan closest to me. I glance to Skyla, my beautiful wife, the mother of my children, and my heart breaks because her rage toward me is so alive, so palpable on her face. This isn’t quite the moment I was hoping to encapsulate. “Smile, Skyla,” I whisper. “Smile for the damn picture.”
Her eyes round out, and her lips twitch in the right direction. Skyla has always loved it when I talk dirty. I’m guessing my alpha commands are having the same effect on her, and I’m glad because I’m fine with being stern if I have to. I’d growl and bark at her all day and all night if it landed me in our bed again.
We stand next to the tree, each with a sleeping boy in our arms, and smile for the damn camera.
And just like that, it’s a merry Christmas after all.
Logan
The sky covers Paragon with a cloak of darkness, thick as midnight, and at two in the afternoon it’s an amazing feat to witness. If Paragon had fallen into the sea, the rest of the world would simply carry on without us. Those endless L.A. commutes would continue without batting a false eyelash. Hunger and war would rage on to see another day. It seems that Paragon has to battle for her very existence. Despite the fog, she demands to be seen. I realize there are places in this world where night swallows down the day, hour after hour, but technically, Paragon isn’t one of them. But this afternoon the island has lost her will to fight and has succumb to the dark winter and his dark charm. There isn’t an inch of promise on the horizon. Instead, the storm batters Paragon with an incessant beating. This is a lashing from the heavens, corporal punishment for all of Paragon’s blatant sins. After all, this is the nexus of the battle of the spiritual forces that rule our universe. Perhaps we deserve the biggest beating, the most devastating blows that Mother Nature has to offer. Celestra and all of its formidable power has taken a back seat to Wesley’s Steel Barricade. Wesley and his wicked father, Demetri, are in fact proving to be made of something far stronger than steel—they had become the sun, and the rest of the Factions are simply spinning in their orbit. Celestra is slowly being swallowed by the night, and Wesley is at the helm of the darkness.
The Paragon Bowling Alley sits like a stone anchored in an angry sea. I can see Whitehorse, my home, the home I built for Skyla, across the street from the doors leading into the arcade. The bowling alley itself is original, save for the kitchen, which caught fire, followed by a renovation a few years back. The blaze was set by Fems trying to kill Skyla—or me—a second time around. I suppose you can never be too sure. The one thing I am certain of is that the Fems are far more demonic than they ever are angelic. Yes, they love the Master, and the Master’s Son, but they can’t seem to fathom the fact the Sectors, their spiritual equals, are in fact superior to them in the earthen realm, and thus in the heavenlies as well. It’s all about saving face—a power grab. Who gets the head seat at the dinner table. Who rides shotgun. Nothing more than a juvenile battle of the wills. But when you get down to brass tacks, the Sectors—picture a million Marshall Dudleys—are for Celestra and the ethics and morals we stand for. The Fems have aligned themselves with the Countenance Faction, which superstitiously is out for themselves. As much as the Fems want control of the spiritual realm, the Counts have lusted after control of the Factions. The only thing the Fems and the Counts really have in common is their shared hatred for Celestra.
I head into my office and pull out an old file marked pricing. Inside, I have all of Wesley’s latest and greatest moves mapped out in a series of symbols, a shorthand that only I can understand, and half the time it’s too far gone for even me to remember what I was trying to say. I fall into my seat, the cheap office chair with its chipping faux leather raining black confetti all over the floor, and start pouring over my notes.
Wesley has reanimated the Viden youth as Spectators. In other words, he’s turned them into a roving band of people hungry zombies. Skyla and I had them roped and tied in the Tenebrous Woods, the old tunnels the Counts once used as a blood harvesting station for Celestra. Brute assholes. But nevertheless, every last Celestra is free, and as of the christening, Wesley—correction, Demetri freed the Viden Spectators as well.
I thump my pencil over my desk trying to drink this in. Wes has thousands of people ready and willing to wreak havoc on our unsuspecting world. Demetri finally has Gage where he wants him—sworn to lead the rat pack of destruction as the head Fem in charge. Gage had no choice. When he left the Barricade, he was cursed—the heart of one he loved would turn against him. Once his sons were born, it was clear the curse would be passed to them, and in an effort to save his children from a lifetime of wickedness—thus breaking their mother’s heart—he assumed the curse on himself. He did what any good father and husband would have done. Gage is a hero.
And that’s where we are today. So, what is Wesl
ey Edinger’s next move?
I hold the paper up as if that might actually shed light on the disaster. Demetri has already caused a significant rift between Skyla and Gage. That was easy enough. Now that Wes has his right-hand man back on his side, he’ll move as quick as greased lightning to achieve his overall goal—but what exactly is that? World domination? Too broad. Nope. I’m pretty sure once he kicks Celestra to the curb he’ll let the rest of us in on his little nefarious plot. No time to wait for that bullshit. The thing with someone as crooked as Wes and Demetri is that you’d better stay ten steps ahead of them or they’ll eat your lunch. Hell, they’ll eat your breakfast and dinner, too.
“Logan?” Lexy Bakova pops her head in. Despite the many other things going on in Lexy’s life, she still makes time to help out at the bowling alley. Of my original crew from West Paragon High, only she and Ellis remain. She’s vamped up from head to toe in black—low-cut on top, high-cut on bottom, spiked heels, bright red lipstick. I used to not think too much of the fact that Lex looks as if she’s headed clubbing after a shift until Liam pointed out that the show was just for me. Liam has leashed himself to Michelle Miller—who in effect is Lexy’s best friend. Michelle made it clear to my brother that if she couldn’t have me, she’s rooting for Lex. And believe me, the two of them are campaigning hard. “There’s someone out here who wants you.” She runs her tongue slowly over her lips as if she were letting me know she wants me, too.
“On my way.” I tuck the file back and head inside, fully expecting to find the place filled with government drones, each in a matching suit, those same dull expressions that Moser and Killion wore like a mask—that is, right up until they were eaten alive. I didn’t have the displeasure of seeing Moser torn to pieces, but I witnessed poor Killion with her body in a Spectator’s mouth. That horrified look on her face—the one that realized death was imminent—has been staining my nightmares ever since. But there’s only one suit in the entire place, and it doesn’t belong to the feds—or thankfully, Marshall Dudley. It belongs to Heathcliff O’Hare. But it’s not the suit he’s wearing that surprises me. It’s the somber look on his face. Ever since Candace freed him from the body of a raven, he’s worn a perennial smile. Mostly that has to do with the fact he’s married to the love of his life, Ezrina, so the frown is new and I’m not loving it.
“What’s up my, old friend?” I slap him over the shoulder as we navigate to the nearest table. It’s empty inside, not even a ghost is willing to spend its precious time haunting the place.
“I’m afraid Rina is up—or should I say down.” Nev rests his elbows onto the table and lands his head in his hands. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her as of late. She’s ornery, and rigid, and runs hot and cold from moment to moment.”
“Sounds like a woman.” My shit-eating grin melts away just as fast as I shed it while I do a quick sweep for any females in the vicinity. I’m not afraid of Lexy Bakova, but my heart would break if Skyla heard the disparaging remark, especially since she’s markedly pissed at the moment. “Look, I don’t mean that. Something is obviously eating at her. Maybe it’s hormones. Maybe it’s that time of the month?” Wow, now I’m really glad there’s not a female around to witness my chauvinistic side shining through. “Okay, I don’t mean that either. Women have every right to get upset. Did you piss her off? Are you leaving the toilet seat up again? That drives them fucking nuts. Pardon my language.”
“Heavens no.” Nev perks back to life. “It only takes once for me to learn a sharp lesson, and Rina does like to dole them out sharply. I would never dishonor my ladylove in that way—in any way for that matter. The water closet rules are strict, and mind you I happily abide by them. Which is why I’m truly stumped. I spoke with Master Dudley this morning. He suggested I demand she snap out of it.”
“Don’t listen to him.”
“That’s what I informed him, so he suggested I speak with you. He assured me you have vast experience with disappointing women and losing them.” He frowns.
I groan at how swift and deeply Dudley hit the disappointing nail on the head. “He is a charmer, isn’t he?”
“So, it’s true?” Nevermore seems intrigued by my unique abilities.
“Only to an extent. Look, every woman is different. Every relationship is different. What works with Skyla won’t necessarily work with Ezrina.”
“So it’s still Skyla you pine for.” He gives a gentle nod as if apologizing for my useless endeavor. “I’m sorry, my friend. In no way have I come to highlight your defeat—excuse the term, disappointment.”
“You had it right the first time.”
He rises to leave, and it feels as if our short-lived conversation had turned into a freight train that bumped over my body. I do love Skyla. I very much still pine for her. But she’s not my wife anymore. She belongs to Gage. Heck, she’s had his children and has cemented their familial standing now and forever. A thought comes to me. “Has Ezrina been eating strange things?”
Nev pauses to consider this. “Only if you consider cheeseburgers by the dozens strange. Rina doesn’t think twice about what she consumes these days.” He lifts his finger. “I’ll see you at the house, my friend.” He takes off, and my mouth falls open.
Ezrina is acting erratic and eating a record number of cheeseburgers? She’s emulating Skyla’s behavior to a T for the entire last year—at least while she was with child, children to be exact. If Ezrina and Nev are about to become parents, I think I’ll let them stumble upon that sure-to-be-adorable nugget on their own.
Ellis comes my way with a giant grin floating on his stoned face. Ellis Harrison truly does believe a joint before noon is the breakfast of champions.
“Guess who you are looking at, man?” He tips his head back and lets out a howl that echoes through this cavernous dump on a loop.
“I’m afraid to guess.” True as God. Ellis only ever smiles because he’s chemically altered to do so. If that silly grin on his face is due to the fact he thinks he has a capital idea, then I’d better run for cover. I want nothing to do with it.
“Dude, you are looking at the next Paragon Island millionaire.” He blows on his fingernails. “Not that a few lousy million bucks is what it used to be, but it’s seed money, dude. With my daddy’s money burning a hole in my back pocket, I’m ready to tackle the world, man!”
“Your trust fund finally kicked in.” I stand up and slap him five. “Congratulations, man. I’ll buy you a drink. Soda okay?”
“Okay for now. But I’m thinking you might want to beef up the menu, add some of the hard stuff, and draw in a crowd that really knows how to spend its money.”
I think on it as I swipe a cup from the dispenser and fill it to the brim with ice and soda before handing it off to Ellis. “I don’t know. When my father opened this place, he didn’t exactly have a liquor store in mind.” My father ran the bowling alley up until he and my mother moved to Oregon to be near her elderly parents. They hadn’t planned on staying long but made the most of their time there by working the farmland. They raised enough pumpkins three years in a row to sell to the public, and that was their final swan song. There was a fire, then—my mother, my father—they were gone. I was burned beyond recognition. Decades of surgeries deemed me functional yet imprisoned in a painfully contractured body. All hopes of a normal life were off the table until a sweet soul with an angel’s face came into my life and fell in love with me and wanted me—for her daughter. Candace Messenger and I do share quite the checkered past. There are details I have yet to share with Skyla about those clandestine visits. Skyla is right. I never tell her the entire truth. There are just some things I don’t want to know myself.
“No liquor.” I glance out at the bowling alley with its depressed dim lighting, its empty lanes, the silence that permeates like a cancer eating up any remnants of joy my parents might have envisioned for the place. “Okay, maybe liquor, but what this place really needs is a bulldozer.” I’m only partially teasing.
“
That’s what I was thinking, man.” Ellis drapes his arm over my shoulder. “I did a little research. You own the land, dude. You’re an effing land baron.”
“True in theory only.”
A shadow darkens the entry, and Liam comes bustling over looking as forlorn and down as Nev did. God forbid he knocked up Miller. I doubt it would end as well for them.
“What’s stinging your crotch?” I slap my brother over the back in an attempt to shake the sour mood out of him.
“I’m useless.” He takes a seat on the edge of the table and slumps. “The seed money Barron gifted me to get my life back on track has done a disappearing act. I’m busted. I’m broke. I need a job.”
Why do I get the feeling seed money is the term of the day?
“A career,” Ellis corrects with an alarming amount of enthusiasm. “Logan and I were just discussing our plans to raze this place and resurrect it bigger and better than before.”
“We were?” I’m only half-amused because it sounds like something I might actually be interested in.
“That’s right,” Ellis booms. “This place will rain booze and chicks. But don’t you worry”— he slings an arm over my shoulder—“we’ll still have a kiddie section, a better kiddie section where your kids can play.”
“What kids?”
“The ones with Skyla.”
“Ellis, those kids belong to Gage.”
“Gage, you—what’s the difference? You and I both know you’ve got a ménage situation going with the two of them. Those kids are as good as yours.”
I hate it when Ellis is right about anything. Not the ménage part—that’s twisted. But those boys feel every bit mine as they do to Gage.
“Get on with your point.” I’ve always had a very hard limit of how much Harrison I can handle in one day, and we just skidded across that line at ménage.
The thought of Skyla and me going at it while Gage supervises thumps through my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Damn Ellis.
Crown of Ashes Page 10
