Crown of Ashes

by Addison Moore

  “You can’t see Ellis anymore!” I bark at her, and she stills—a look of fright frozen on her innocent face. “This ends tonight.” I turn back to the boy I grew up with. “You’re done. You will not pull my sister down. You will not take this life she was given and squander it under a fucking haze of this shit you’re addicted to!” I give a hard kick to his leg. “I won’t let it happen.” I stalk out of there, my adrenaline pumping through me like a war drum, my rage hitting the stratosphere. If it wasn’t the twins’ birthday party, if it wasn’t mine, I could have very well strangled the shit out of him. I’ll make it a point to talk to my parents about this. I don’t care how much my sister protests. I’m prying them the hell apart.

  I hit the base of the stairs before I realize that ridiculous mask I was given is nowhere to be found. A body knocks into me, and I look up to find the ever-elusive shadow man, nothing but a dark breath of demonic air. His eyes meet with mine as he offers a laughing smile, and a shiver runs through me. He’s not real. He can’t be. For sure he isn’t one of those things that spins around the Transfer. He walks through the stairwell, straight through it, and I force myself to look away.

  Crap. I take in a full breath as I set foot toward the mouth of the great room filled with its blaring music and riotously happy guests. I don’t see Skyla. I don’t see anyone I know in fact, so I head down the dark hall instead, desperate to get my head together. I should have asked Demetri about that figure, about the Videns. I slap the back of my neck as if swatting that smug grin off Demetri’s face. I should have wrung Ellis’ neck. And just like that, I relent. I shouldn’t have been so hard on him, on my sister. I left her there in tears, and now I feel like a monster. But there’s something about this place, about this night, that has me on edge. Maybe it’s the fact Skyla and I never finished that sex war we threatened one another with. That’s what I should do—find my wife and then find a very dark corner in this haunted estate, take the edge off this tension I’ve been hauling around all night.

  Just as I’m about to turn around, I spot a lone light at the end of the hall. I know that room all too well. It’s Demetri’s office. I head over to check it out, fully expecting to find another couple locked at the hips. This celebration might be under the ruse of my sons’ birthdays, but those dresses, those masks out there, they’re acting as fuel for the lust that’s long taken over this island.

  I step to the edge of the door, ready to bolt if I see one shiny ass in the air, but I don’t. I see one shiny ass seated at the leather throne, looking sour and down as if someone just pissed in his favorite breakfast cereal.

  “Wes.” I nod over to my brother as I head inside. “What’s up? Where’s Tobie?”

  “Out and about. Last I saw, Emily had her.” He glares at the desk as he thumps his fingers over it at a manic pace. “Coop says Laken is missing.” He doesn’t look up, still lost in his catatonic gaze.

  “We’ll find her.”

  “You won’t. I will. She’s not here.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “I just reviewed the security footage.” He glances to the monitor to his left before reverting to me. “Chloe was here.” His brows rise. “It looks as if she was turning in one last angelic being to the government.” His gaze falls to the dark mahogany of our father’s desk—an antique he once told me. “Laken followed her to the edge of the driveway. Who knows what lie she fed her. A car pulled up, and Chloe evaporated. But they took Laken.” He looks up at me and sharpens his gaze. “She’s at Raven’s Eye as we speak.”

  “Shit. Does Coop know?”

  He shakes his head. His eyes are slow to drift from mine. “Cooper can’t save her.”

  “Let me guess. Only you can do that? I’ve got news for you, Wes—you weren’t there the last time we helped her get out of that hellhole.”

  “They took her back, Gage. What do you think the future holds? She comes back to Paragon and resumes her life as if nothing happened? They want her there, in that cage so they can do those things to her.” His voice shakes with the undertones of rage. “But I’ll make sure she’s out long before morning. They’ll process her tonight, and I’ll make sure she’s back on Paragon soil before they ever try to harm her.”

  There is something to be admired in my brother’s arrogance, in his self-assuredness in keeping the girl he loves safe above all else.

  “So, what’s the plan?” If I’ve learned anything about Wesley over the last few years, it’s that he is a man who always has a plan.

  “I knew going into this that there was a chance she would be taken. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would actually happen.” He belts out a manic laugh. “And so soon.” He tosses a hand in the air before pinching his eyes shut. “I had accounted for it, though. I couldn’t get too deep without making sure it wouldn’t backfire and bite me in the ass. I needed Laken safe no matter what. For her I made assurances. I knew there was one person able to help me—but she wasn’t willing.”

  My heart jackhammers as I hang on his every word. Then it hits me. “Ezrina.”

  “That’s right. Tobie is hers as much as she is mine, and I played that card over and over. Ezrina will do whatever I ask to have access to the child. And she should. She’s genetically her mother.”

  My heart breaks for Ezrina, for the desperation she must have felt. “Ezrina stepped outside of her better judgment and turned Kresley into the clone you’ve always wanted.”

  “And now that clone will take Laken’s place. Laken will have to be careful for a time. But the feds will be happy that she’s seemingly still under their charge—and the beauty of it is, it won’t be Laken at all.” He gives a dull smile. “And that, my brother, was the plan.”

  A thousand different scenarios run through my mind, none of them good. “Does Kresley know?”

  “She knows nothing.” He blinks back an inch. “And she won’t until the very last minute. She doesn’t have a say.”

  My blood runs cold listening to him. This mirrored version of me, this blood relation, I can’t wrap my head around the fact he’s so ready and willing to be so cruel.

  “I’m not a monster,” he whispers.

  “How can you say that? You’re about to imprison Kresley to a life of hell.”

  “To spare Laken!” he roars, knocking down all of the knick-knacks Demetri hosts on that overgrown desktop of his. “Get out,” he whispers, his gaze once again lost in his ruminating thoughts.

  “Let me help you. We can find a way. We can free the Videns. Wes, don’t you see? You dug a hole deep enough to bury yourself in. This isn’t the way to claim victory over the Factions. Let me sit down with you, and we’ll think of a better way. We’ll shut them down without endangering our own people. Stop taking the rope. You’re about to hang yourself with it, and you don’t even realize it.”

  His eyes flit to mine, quick and curious. “You would help me?” His brow lifts as if he were amused.

  “Yes.” A surge of allegiance courses through me, and with everything in me I mean it. Skyla bounces through my mind, the boys, our people, and I come to, dazed as if I just stepped off of a demonic merry-go-round. “I’d better go find Coop.” I stagger from the office, my head still swimming in the conversation I had with Wes. How quickly I yielded to my father’s wishes. How quickly I stepped to the left and abandoned my wife and her people. I was right. It’s this damn house. It’s draining me of my good senses. I should get the boys, and my wife, and speed us the hell away from here.

  I head down the hall and spot a sight for my sore and tired eyes.

  “Logan.” I clamp my hand down over his shoulder and lead him right out the door.

  “Happy birthday.” He socks me in the arm as we step into the darkness of the enormous front porch. “I almost forgot to say it.”

  “Yeah, well, the boys should get all the attention anyway.” We walk to the edge of the house and take a seat on the cold stairs—a stoic marble lion sits on either side of us.

  “El
lis says you whooped his ass.” He sinks his hands between his knees and folds them. Logan has always had a paternal way about him, and at this moment he very much feels like a father figure wanting an explanation of my poor actions.

  “And I made my sister cry. Yes, I feel like an ass. But I don’t want to talk about my sister or Ellis.” I let out a breath, and a giant white plume escapes me. “Something is happening.” There. I said it. It’s always been my deepest fear to verbalize the very things that I’m afraid of. I’ve always understood that there is power in words, specifically in speaking them out loud. Words have the power to bind things to you, good or bad. I always figured the longer I ignored things, the less power they have to become real. But on nights like tonight, filled with ghosts, with shadow stalkers, with visitors from paradise, it feels easy to verbalize the things that I’m afraid of. “The night that you died”—I catch him on a double take as he gives me his full attention—“what happened? What did it feel like?”

  “What?” He kicks my foot out from under me. “It felt like shit. I was leaving Skyla—something you’re never allowed to do. Stay strong. Demetri and his mindfuck of a party are getting to you. Bastard’s Ball,” he says under his breath while glaring at the house. “You are Gage Fucking Oliver. Half this island wishes it could be you. Heck, sometimes I wish I could be you. The other half wishes they could sleep with you. So you see, right there, that proves you’re pretty awesome.” He slaps his hand over my knee and gives it a wobble. “Things are moving so fast for you. It’s no wonder your head is everywhere. And I’m betting you had zero sleep last night—and that it had very little to do with the kids.”

  That vision of Skyla and me rolling around like tigers over the sheets comes back to me, and I can’t help but shed the idea of a smile.

  “Knew it.” He kicks my foot again. “You’re going to be fine. Everything works out for the two of you.”

  “What’s going on with Coop?” I’m as eager to change the subject as I am to let Cooper know what Wes said.

  “He took off to speak with Ezrina. We found Laken’s phone at the base of the driveway.”

  I tell him about my conversation with Wes in a few angry sound bites. “He’s had a backup all along.”

  “Shit.” Logan pulls out his phone and starts in on a texting spree. “Coop is going to lose his fucking mind.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you that first. My head’s all clogged up. You’re right. I didn’t sleep. We should probably close out this party so we can help Coop.”

  Logan winces at his phone as he hits Send. “I’d better find Wes and see if he needs any help. Cooper keeps threatening to kill him, but after tonight, he might want to thank him.” He shakes his head incredulously. “And what about Kresley? She’s a person. She’s someone’s daughter, a human being—at least in partial.”

  “I know. We need a better way. I’ll get on that. I can’t have Kres there either. And as much as it may have filled a need for Skyla—I can’t leave the Videns there.”

  “They’re as good as dead. The irony being they are basically dead to begin with.”

  “They’re my people.” It comes out far more caustic than intended. “Skyla can’t have them.” I sink my head between my knees because it feels as if there’s a force bending my mind to its unreasonable will. “Dude, I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.” I give a few hard blinks before lifting my head to the cool night air. “Let’s get back there.”

  Logan helps me to my feet and pats my back as if comforting me. “I’ll help you get through the night as soon as I touch base with Wes. Let’s go find those boys of yours.” We head back toward the front of the house, and the sounds of laughter and the band bleed through the walls like a riot. Then as caustic as it was, it all stops as if someone pulled the plug on the party—and a voice shouts something about heading to the back. It’s just like Demetri to herd everyone to a single location. How could he possibly make his eloquent speeches without the rapt attention of every soul in this haunted hall? At the end of the day, Demetri is nothing more than an attention whore.

  “Before we go in”—I pull Logan back by the elbow—“I just want to say thank you for all you’ve done for me. I know you’ll always be there for Skyla, for the boys. Sometimes it feels like you’re the glue that holds all this madness together.” I pull him in and wrap my arms around him tight, the boy I grew up with, my brother, the best man I know. “You know I love you.” I can’t bring myself to look at him. The world wobbles through my tears, and I sniff hard into his neck without meaning to.

  “Hey.” He pulls back and gives my arm a hard squeeze as if pulling me back to reality. “It’s your birthday—yes, you can cry if you want to, but don’t.” He gives a dry chuckle. “That was beautiful, but I need you to get back in there. Tonight is ending on a good note for you. There will be cake. You will undoubtedly get laid. By my ex-wife no less.” He frowns at the revelation. “And, as weird as it sounds, that makes you a lucky, lucky bastard.” He lifts a finger my way, and we share a dull laugh. Logan lands his arm over my back with a thump. “I love you, too, man. Now, how about we put the happy in birthday? Let’s make this next year the best one yet.”

  “Will do.” We head inside, only to find both the halls and the grand room drained of its guests. A growing murmur comes from the rear of the property just like I surmised.

  “I’ll go find Wes and see what he’s thinking.” Logan pulls me to him. “Hey—sometimes death comes in stages, and the life it craves to acquire is dead long before the soul ever leaves the body. Don’t let that be you, man. You have a lot to live for. Live life to the fullest. Go out there and hold your boys extra tight.”

  “That’s the plan.” We go our separate ways, and I head to the back where Ingram spots me before I ever set foot outside.

  “Master Oliver.” He hands me an envelope with my name scrolled across the front in fancy handwriting. “A mysterious woman left this for you.” He gives a sly wink before returning to his post at the door.

  I pull the card from the inside, a single thick stock of paper with the words, Meet me in the grand room where the band once played. Let’s see if you and I can come up with a rhythm of our very own. It’s time to get dirty.

  A smile floats to my lips, and my feet are already carrying me in that direction. I’ll choose getting dirty with my wife anytime over listening to some over bloated speech Demetri has to give. I make my way to the great room and head to the stage set up near the back, deep in the bowels of the ballroom. Skyla is coming. My Skyla. And we’re going to set this night on the right trajectory. I’m done with dark thoughts and the morbid outlook they sponsor. I need Skyla’s heated kisses just to breathe. Something quick and dirty is just what the doctor ordered. I need to feel her skin, feel myself deep inside of her. I spot an alcove behind the stage where we can do just that.

  A gentle tap lands over my shoulder, and I turn with a dirty grin already tucked high in my cheeks. Then, just as quick, it leaves me.

  “It’s you,” I whisper, stunned—caught off-guard.

  A searing heat slices across my neck, and I hit the floor, my eyes wide open as I stare at my body a good three feet away. I give a few rapid blinks, still disbelieving, a thousand thoughts run through my mind—not one of them anchors. Snippets of my life sail through me—early memories surface, looking up at my loving parents, my mother who sacrificed so much for me. She is so beautiful, so very young and hopeful. The loving father who raised me, Barron. His face is smoother, his hair darker and fuller, and I can feel that tender love in his eyes that he’s always had for me. Giselle comes in next, and a pinch of grief hits me as I grieve the loss of my sweet little sister all over again. I should have never taken my eyes off her that day. I let the world hurt her, and I have never forgiven myself. And I’ve hurt her again tonight. I keep hurting my sweet baby sister. In truth, it’s why I never fought Logan for Skyla. I hadn’t thought I deserved her in the beginning. I had already let down one girl.
I didn’t deserve another. I see Logan and me running around the island, laughing, growing from boys to men at an alarming pace. There we are in the bowling alley, staring with wide-eyed wonder at Skyla for the very first time, and the world stops. Beautiful, beautiful Skyla. I’m so in love, my heart aches for her the most. The scene changes, Skyla and me running from Fems, the very creature I turned out to be, a ball of air, a dark force of nothing. Skyla and I on our wedding day, making sweet love in that cheap hotel. An entire montage of Skyla and me setting the sheets on fire, making one another our own, tasting one another, drinking each other down like holy nectar. The boys appear, Nathan and Barron. I see them clearly with their bright eyes, their deep-welled dimples, the smiles that never end. I see that day on the stone of sacrifice, offering myself to Demetri to save those precious beings I love so much. Then with Logan tonight as I offered him one last embrace with my body. But my final thought, the very last one, is reserved for Skyla. How can I possibly leave her and the boys? How I love my little family, my wife. My entire being hurts so much for them. I love her. I love the boys. I love them so very much. I can’t bear the pain. I need them. God, Skyla. I’m so sorry. I tried. I really did try.

  I love you, my lips mouth the words. The very last words they will ever say.

  This was not enough time. It went far too quickly. Too short. Too damn short. I need more time. I want it all. I should have fought harder.

  The world begins to fade, and I claw at it with my mind, begging it not to.

  And then finally—as I always suspected I would at a very young age—slow and careful I rise. My spirit, the real me, lifts light as a feather, and I stand over my body, my head no longer beneath me, as blood spurts below like a fountain.

  A shower of light pours from the ceiling, and then one by one I see them—my welcoming party, my escorts to eternity.

  Dudley steps in first. He looks softer, kinder, his eyes bear into mine with love. “Master Oliver.” He gives a slight bow, and for once I feel nothing but gratefulness and admiration for him. “I requested this assignment. It is my great honor and privilege to transport you. I say this with a heavy heart—precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” He offers a soft smile, but his words speared me nevertheless. “Welcome to eternity.”