From what pray tell, I want to ask but don’t.
Gage steps in front of me, and it takes herculean strength to lift my eyes to his, but once I do, my stomach drops straight through the floorboards.
“I just saw Tad.” He leans in with that hopeful look on his face, and my heart wants to break all over again, but I refuse it the right. “He looks better. You look beautiful.” He tracks my eyes with his, just trying to get a lock on me. Tad spent a few nights in the burn unit but has come right back home with his body bandaged up and his left arm in a straight splint to allow the skin to heal properly. For the most part, he looks as if he kissed the sun and things went horribly wrong.
Gage dips in with a sad smile, and my heart grows heavy as the ocean as I brush back Nathan’s hair in lieu of a thank you. The commotion in the kitchen hits riotous levels, and I nod in that direction before taking off. My heart pounds all the way to the family room as if my own head were on fire. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so heartbroken around Gage before. A part of me wants to shake some sense into him, but another very real part of me knows that once I touch him I won’t want to let go.
The family room is flooded with the usual suspects, Bree and Drake tossing marshmallows into one another’s mouths as if it were their latest party trick. Ethan with his bare feet on top of D-O-G, Mia’s dog, aka Bullet the oversized living rug, while the equally oversized TV features a bevy of talking heads before they flash to scenes of dark woods from all over the country, New York, Maine, Colorado, New Mexico.
“What’s this?” I lean in, trying to hear what has the news and just about half the country in a tizzy. Normally I would dive straight into that argument, still ripe in the kitchen, but something about those Paragon-esque settings has my nerves jumping.
“Clowns.” Ethan grunts and belches at the very same time.
“Clowns?” I step in further, and both little Beau Geste and Misty wrap themselves around my legs.
“Kyla!” Beau gives my shirt a tug. “I went—I went poo poo under the Kissmas tee!”
“That’s nice,” I say catatonically as Ethan turns up the volume.
“Clowns have been spotted all over the country, terrorizing adults and children alike. Authorities are looking to question these individuals, one of which was seen brandishing a gun.” The camera zooms in on one of the demonic creatures with its misshapen head, that pale skin, a blood stroke of a wicked grin. I’ve seen that haunted face before. This is no Halloween mask. That’s a Fem. “If you spot anyone suspicious, the authorities caution you to stay away and call the police.”
Long svelte fingers pick up the remote and turn the channel to a bunch of people sitting around on a group date naked, and I look to find those long svelte fingers connected to none other than the demon herself.
“Chloe?” I take a step back, still dazed from the trance of that clown’s face. “What are you doing here?” I glance behind her to find Mom and Tad both red-faced—Tad with petroleum jelly smeared all over his skin, his left arm extended in its splint to keep the skin from contracting. To say the least, his burns were serious. Demetri is most certainly not off the hook. There are plenty of other gifts he could have given me, and lighting Tad on fire wasn’t anywhere near my list. Ditto for Marshall. I expect more from my favorite Sector, and I don’t mean more burns. That was a barbaric act I’d expect from the Fems, certainly not from him. Just the thought of Demetri and Marshall teaming up to gift me a well-roasted Tad sets my teeth on edge.
“I’m here for you.” Chloe offers up a friendly shoulder bump. “Sleeping until noon, Skyla? Really? The Olivers showed up an entire hour ago. How could you keep your man waiting like that?” Her lips curve into a sinister smile when she says your man, and I groan. I’d give anything to be back in bed with my boys curled around me like puppies. My favorite part of the day is feeling their naked flesh warming mine while I nurse. There is nothing more bonding than flesh against flesh. Speaking of which…
“Where’s Tobie?” I can feel my milk coming in again just thinking about that pink little cherub. God knows I’ve nursed Chloe’s child more than she has.
Chloe scoffs. “With Ezrina? Wesley maybe? Who the hell gives a shit.”
“Watch your language.” I study the dark-haired devil before me who has brought so much heartbreak into my world. Dear God, what have I gotten myself into? “We don’t do that anymore at this house.” I clamp my hands over little Misty’s ears before carefully removing her from my leg.
Tad lets out a yelp, and I turn to find my mother detangling him from his arm brace.
“Of all the shit, shitty shit shit things to happen!” he rages as the two of them spin into a tornado of howls.
“Enough!” Chloe barks over at them as the room falls strangely silent. “Watch your language.” Her voice hacks through the air like a throwing star. “We don’t do that anymore in this house.”
Slowly the melee of the Landon home grinds to life again as Chloe turns to me with a sinister smile.
“Your wish is my command, master.” She gives a sly wink. This is precisely why teaming up with Chloe is a piss-poor idea. She’s a loose cannon.
“For one, I did not command you to holler like a drill sergeant. And secondly—”
“She’s right!” Mom hacks over Tad’s incessant verbal tirade. “This is a house of proper manners, and we will not tolerate such verbal outbursts.”
“Mee-Maw!” Beau shouts from the hall. “I made poo poo on the stairs!”
“All of them?” My mother’s voice warbles in horror.
“I was sliding!”
Drake and Brielle slap one another five as if their son just managed to cross something major off their bucket list, and, knowing the two of them, gliding down a feces-covered stairwell just might be on it.
Mom dashes out of the room with a roll of paper towels and manages to snatch Drake on her way out.
Good move. It’s about time at least one of Beau’s parents is held responsible for his potty shenanigans. Lord knows I’ve found brown mounds on top of the toilet seat, in the bathroom sink, in the kitchen sink, on the doorstep, and in the pantry—and all of that was just last week.
Chloe leans in. “I’m sure Gage and Emma are quite entertained.” She lifts a sharp angled brow. “Especially since shitty shenanigans are their specialty.”
“Right.” I scoff at the idea. “I’m sure they’ll have an entire swat team of social services crawling all over this feces-infested place within an hour.” I glare at her a moment. “Why am I talking to you?” I grit through my teeth. “Why am I looking at you? This is not your home, Chloe. Don’t get too comfortable. I’m not looking for a bestie. That position is filled.”
“By me.” Brielle wraps me in a hug from behind. “Big party at Ellis’ tonight, and I expect to see both you bitches there.” She leans over and pinches Chloe’s cheek as if she were a three-year-old, but Chloe growls.
“No using the B word, Bree.” She gives a sly wink my way.
Brielle is quick to brush her off. “God, it’s so nice to see you both in the same room and not clawing one another’s eyes out. Isn’t this crazy? Back at West I could never have predicted this. I thought for sure one of you would have ended up dead by now.”
A small laugh trembles through me. Chloe is all but dead. Ezrina’s body is well over three hundred years old. But apparently well-preserved, considering she looks twenty and was able to birth a child a few months back. I’m guessing every valve and chamber is in good working condition. Just my luck.
“Of course, we’ll be there.” Chloe blinks over to me with those dark bat caves she calls eyes. “Skyla and I will be at all of the important parties that Paragon has to offer—together. But make no mistake about it. We are the important ones.”
We. I shudder as she says it. As much as I hate the thought of being so intricately connected to Chloe, we’ve become just that. Oh hell, we’ve always been intricately connected, long before I killed her and long before she killed my father. In t
he celestial mother of all ironies, the only thing we really have in common is the fact we’re both killers—that and our Celestra lineage.
“Dear God.” Mom stalks back in, retching with her hand over her mouth. “Brielle, help Drake call out a carpet cleaning service.”
Tad groans so loud you would think he were ready to blow to bits.
“Oh”—Mom throws her hands in the air, exasperated—“the kids are paying for it for shit’s sake!”
Chloe’s about to say something, and I hold up a finger. She frowns my way, but it is nice to know she’s willing to comply—for now. Her eyes widen as she looks over my shoulder, and I turn to find Gage strolling in with Nathan in his arms, or at least from here I think it’s Nathan. The boys might be fraternal, but there is not one noticeable difference at this point.
“Hello, Gage.” Chloe’s entire face opens up for him—much like her legs would gladly do, I’m sure.
“Down, girl,” I whisper. It’s nice to be holding the whip and the chair for once in this bedraggled relationship.
Chloe’s chest pumps with a silent laugh, her eyes still very much pegged to my betrothed. “Don’t you ever liken me to a dog again, Skyla.”
“If the bitch shoe fits.”
Gage steps in close, examining the two of us as if trying to see which one is easier to read. I’ll give him a hint. It is most definitely not me. I bet it’s killing him to see me with this demon by my side, killing him to know what I might be thinking, staging, preparing, all in the name of our twisted love. Whatever becomes of us, of Chloe and me, Gage and me, I can squarely peg the outcome on Gage Oliver’s shoulders.
You did this, I want to say. You have unraveled us, and now I’ve come undone.
He leans in and takes in a breath with his eyes closed, his face seemingly relaxed for the first time. “You smell nice.”
“It’s me,” Chloe volunteers. “It’s my new perfume—Chloe. Skyla gave it to me for Christmas.” God, she’s such an attention whore around him I’m almost embarrassed for her.
His eyes widen with fright before looking to me. “Skyla.” My name comes out in a depressed whisper. “I need to talk to you.”
Nathan fidgets in his arms, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was wiggling in my direction so I scoop him on over.
“Not now.” There. I’ve given him a modicum of hope. He can run with it all the way back to the Olivers’ for all I care.
Chloe takes a step into him, and I note how creepy it is the way her eyes remain trained on his, wide and full of expectation. All Gage has ever given her is rejection, but Chloe is resilient in her pursuit of him. Apparently to some people, delusions are nothing but a springboard of hope.
“We’ll be at the party tonight.” Chloe nods slowly as if trying to hypnotize him. “We expect to see you there.”
“I won’t be there. I’ll be with the boys.”
Mom pokes her head into our tiny circle. “I’ll be with the boys. Actually, Emma just informed me she will, too.” She wrinkles her nose and waves to Chloe with one finger. “It’s so nice to see you around the house again.” She coos for a moment while fondling the blob of paper towels in her hands. “Anyway, I’m having a get-together here tonight and the Olivers are coming.” She nods my way. “So you, young lady, go out and have a little fun.” She hitches her head toward Gage and makes all sorts of crazy eyes before zooming past us once again on route to the slip and slide disaster on the stairs. Little Beau is singlehandedly turning this entire house into a hygienic nightmare.
“Then it’s set.” Chloe slings an arm around me as Nathan arches his back and starts in on a cry that sounds very much like the bleating of a lamb. “We’re partying like it’s our last night on earth.” She never takes her eyes off Gage. “Last chance for love and all that other good stuff.” She struts over to Em and Bree in the kitchen, and for once I’m sorry that Chloe Bishop has left my presence. Who knew Chloe would turn out to be a life preserver in my darkest hour? A lead-lined life preserver, but still.
“Then it’s set.” Gage washes those cobalt eyes over mine, no smile. “Yes, I have things I need to explain”—he shoots a quick glance to Chloe—“but apparently, so do you.” His arm comes in low around my waist as he attempts to pull me in, but I flinch and he retracts. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“The stairs are indisposed if you haven’t been paying attention. And no, this isn’t the time or place.”
His eyes narrow in over mine, angry and brooding. “I don’t want to start the new year off this way with you.”
I lean in, my blood, my temper, and my growing discontent for him coming to a roiling boil. “Then you should have considered that before pledging to darkness,” I hiss so fast it’s Gage who flinches this time.
Emma blinks into the room with Barron, and Mia swoops in behind her only to take the baby from her arms.
Gage takes a step back. His dimples invert with dissatisfaction. That’s the magic of those beautiful divots. They don’t need a smile to perform at maximum capacity. The boys are the same way. I’ve watched for hours as those deep wells of cuteness go off in their sleep.
“We’d better take off. We were on our way to the daycare center. I offered to take a look at the plumbing, but I wanted to stop by.” He leans in and offers a kiss to Nathan. His hand grazes over my swollen chest, and our eyes meet. No apology from him, but then, I didn’t expect one. “I’ll see you tonight. Know this, Skyla”—his gaze weighs heavy on me like the sea pressing over the ocean floor, letting me know I will never emerge the victor, he will lay over my heart forever—“I love you. It’s you I’m fighting for. Always you, Skyla.”
He escorts his mother out of the room, and the air around me feels thick with loneliness. Even in our anger Gage seems to make it a little easier to breathe. I’m sure that’s what Demetri wanted when he manipulated this designer union. Gage and I were never pieced together by my mother and her destination station—we were forged by wickedness and now the light has shown through the broken pieces of who we’ve become and is exposing us for the sham we really are.
Mia swoops in with a wiggly little Barron, and my heart melts as his hand reaches for his brother. They’re practically conjoined all night in their tiny bassinet. I don’t know how much longer they’ll be able to sleep together, but I don’t have the heart to separate them just yet.
“Too bad you’re saddled with kids at such a young age.” Mia snorts while bouncing Barron in her arms, and my mouth falls open. “Don’t worry, Skyla. I won’t screw up my life like you did.” Her eyes meet mine with a renewed enthusiasm. “I’m going out tonight! Melissa and I are heading to the it party on Paragon.” She holds a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Mom and Tad.” She passes Barron to me, and now my arms are full of love, and yet my mind is still mildly pissed at the slight my sister just gave me. “I’m going to party, Skyla. I’m going to live life for the both of us.” Her face opens with such sincerity I almost want to laugh.
“Please, Mia, I’m not dead.”
“But you’re basically an old lady. You’re like Mom.” She makes our mother sound like an infectious disease. “Face it, you can’t have fun anymore. And you’re uneducated. This is all you’ll ever be now—a mom.” Her face falls despondent before she livens up once again. Mia has fully grown into a mirrored version of myself, unlike Melissa, our stepsister who looks every bit the dark-haired, dark-eyed Landon with a questionable dark soul to boot. Although, at the moment, I would very much like to give this mirrored version in front of me a swift kick in the ass. She leans in and whispers, “I’ve got a hot date tonight, but don’t think for a minute I won’t make him use protection.”
“Mia!” I bounce the boys between us. “You keep your legs shut, young lady. You hear me?”
“Ha!” She yelps out a laugh all the way down the hall. “You’re such a mom!”
Chloe seeps in like a dark fog with Emily by her side. “My—isn’t she going to be surprised to see you, an old lady,
show up at Ellis’ party.”
“She’s going to Ellis’ party?” I straighten at the thought.
“That’s right. He’s not only the hottest party on Paragon, he’s the only show in town.”
“Then that’s where I’ll be.” I dot a kiss to each of the boys’ foreheads, soft as peaches.
“Good thing,” Em huffs while gliding forward as if she were floating. Emily is stone-faced with dead eyes, very much her day-to-day self. “I have a vision, Skyla.” She shakes her head, and I’m afraid to guess why. “I need you there. I can’t get this out fast enough.”
“Do it now.” Chloe taps her shoulder into Em’s as if cajoling her along. She’s such a snake. Of course, Chloe would love to start my new year off with a message from the Master concerning the bleakness of my future.
“No, thanks. Not now, not tonight.” No way, no how. If I never hear another vision from Emily Morgan, I’ll be a happy little bird.
“I have to.” Em’s eyes bug out, and my insides tremble. That’s more emotion she’s shown than in the last five years combined. “I’ll blow if I don’t get this one out, and I don’t think your mother wants me defacing her dining room again. We’ll do it at the Harrisons’. Gage needs to be there, too. This is a big one.”
“The last one was a big one,” I correct as I display the boys before her. Emily accurately foretold the birth of my children, including the third triplet, my daughter Sage who never made it to this madhouse known as earth. Emily isn’t a fortuneteller or a psychic per se. She’s akin to an Old Testament prophet who receives her visions straight from the throne of God—or in the least my celestial mother. The Master strictly forbids witches, warlocks, fortunetellers and the like, so Emily really does have a pipeline to both heaven and the future. She’s a Viden, and that’s their gift. Only lately, and come to think of it always, the visions are enough to make me rethink the idea of a future altogether. Her visions are dark, ominous, and most definitely nothing to be giddy over, unlike the troll to my left.
“Wipe that smile from your face,” I tell Chloe, and she slowly complies.
Crown of Ashes Page 12
