Celestra Forever After (39 page)

Skyla

Laken and I sit riveted in history as Marshall paints a picture of the Salem witch trials, constantly eluding to the fact that just about anyone with supposed “powers” might have been considered a witch at the time and suffered the same inhuman death as those that perished. All it took was one disgruntled friend or relative to finger you as an enchantress, and your whole world went up in shit—well, flames—with you nestled in them.

“God, that was so depressing,” Laken says after class. “It’s clear he’s talking about the Nephilim. Do you think that can happen all over again?”

“Hell, no.” I try to sound more confident than I am. “I mean, these days, if people think you have superpowers, they give you a primetime TV special and a million dollar show in Las Vegas. Trust me, we’re golden.”

Hey—maybe Gage and I can make millions with our “magic” act? There’s something to consider. But I’m betting it would be grounds for disqualification as the overseer of the factions—not that it isn’t a useless position to begin with.

Laken twists her lips. “I have to admit, after Logan told Coop about Wesley’s intentions, I’ve been up at night, racking my brain trying to figure this out.”

“What are his intentions?”

“To wreak havoc.” She glances over my shoulder at the door. “Coop’s here, I gotta go.” She hesitates a moment. “Don’t say anything, but I think I have a way of getting those tunnels shut down.”

“How?” I’m more than willing to lend an ear to whatever scheme she might be cooking up.

“First, I need to talk to Wes,” she whispers in the event prying ears might hear.

I glance over my shoulder and offer Cooper a quick wave.

“Are you keeping this a secret from Coop?”

“I’m keeping this a secret from everyone. The only reason I’m telling
you
is in the event I go missing.” She gives a wry smile because, face it, we both know it’s a possibility.

“Whatever it is, forget about it. Trust me, nobody wants you to do anything stupid. Coop loves you. We don’t want you sacrificing yourself, Laken.” Besides, Cooper would never forgive me if something happened to her.

She gives a quick laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll be safe. If I’m right, Wes doesn’t have the power to shut down those tunnels on his own.” She glances down at the floor a moment, and a quick pang of grief crosses her face.

“You know something, don’t you? Is this about the tunnels?”

“No, it’s something else.” She gives a nervous glance out the door. “It has to do with Coop’s dad, and, anyway, it’s not my place to say anything. I’ll catch you later.” She tries to get away, but I snatch her back by the wrist.

“Tell me—whatever it is I can handle it, I swear.”

Her eyes fill with regret as if she’s already said too much. “I have to go.” She jerks free and takes off like a bullet.

Just how in the world is Chloe Bishop the only one willing to tell me the truth? Honest to God, I’m starting to think she was right—she’s my only true friend. I shake my head at the ridiculous thought. Chloe Bishop is a leech that I can’t seem to strip off my body. She’s been a noose around my neck from as far back as when I lived in L.A.

“Ms. Messenger.”

I spin to find Marshall in all his Sector glory looking stunningly delicious, and I hold my breath a moment just admiring his beauty.

He leans in. “Where were we last night?”

I trot down and give him a stern look. Bastard. He knows full well he’s still infiltrating my dreams, making me do the nasty with him for
hours
at a time while Gage is right there in my bed.

“Some skunky saloon filled with perverts just like you,” I hiss.

“Testy are we?”

“You said we needed to help, Clara. It’s the only commonality other than your penis.” A student in the third row turns to look at me, and I lean in to whisper, “Now what gives?”

“Dear child, it sounds as if your imagination has run amuck.” A lewd grin blossoms on his lips because obviously he approves of my brain malfunction. “Might I suggest a good throttling on the mattress by your betrothed? That might fix your carnal cravings. Does he not provide?” Marshall’s expression grows stern as if this were a real question.

“Gage
more
than provides. In fact, last night at the Oliver house, every single person under that roof was made painfully aware of just how well he does so.” I bury my face in my hands a moment. “God, I can never face Barron and Emma again.”

“I believe the Pretty One stayed the night.”

Gah!

Shit! Shit! Shit!

I slap my hand over my forehead. “God—don’t tell me.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight trying to make this entire nightmare go away. “Please, talk about something else.”

“Any pressing thoughts on my sermon?”

“You mean dissertation.”

“Both are within reason.” His brows knit. “It was meant to serve as a warning.”

“So Laken was right.” I straighten at the thought. “The Nephilim need to watch their backs.” God, it’s going to be the Salem witch trials all over again. Chloe will be the first to throw me under the burning bus.

He shakes his head with frustration. “Something new is coming, love. I implored Delphinius to clue me in, but no such luck. He’s proving his old useless self.” He clenches his jaw as if he’s had a beef with that beanpole of an angel all along.

“Can’t you just go to the future and see for yourself?”

“I’m a Sector, Skyla. I can as easily step into the bedroom as I can into the next decade.”

“Then what’s keeping you?”

“It’s clear as oatmeal as of late. And when the future is soupy that’s a good indicator that it’s fluid
.
I’m afraid the Decision Council has deemed me to be in the dark for a time.”

“They’re all
useless
.” I close my eyes a moment.

“What’s with the long look?” He postures over me before narrowing in with his crimson gaze. His lips crimp with disdain. “Is there trouble brewing between you and Jock Strap so soon?”

I give a guilty shrug. My lips quiver because here come the tears.

“What’s this?” Marshall leans in as if he’s never witnessed a bout of occult precipitation before. “Good Lord, Skyla, did he force himself on you?” Something just this side of rage brews beneath the surface.

“No,” it comes out raspy. “I’m a willing participant in that department.”

“I see.” A ghost of a smile twitches on his lips. “You regret your decision. You’d rather skip to the good part now that you see what a disappointment both Oliver boys are when it comes to carnal relations. Can’t say I blame you.”

“Please.” I roll my eyes at his offensive suggestion.

Marshall lifts the hair off my neck, and a cool breeze caresses my heated skin. “Let me take you to my chambers.” His lips swoop in just shy of mine, and I turn my head away. “I’ll rectify the situation at once.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“We can end his sorry life.” Marshall’s eyes widen with the idea. “I’ve enough cyanide stored to put out a horse. I say we go old school. Poison apple, anyone?”

“Poison apple?” I scoff at his less-than-stellar genius. “How original.”

“It is, and it was. I’ll have you know that idea was stolen from me. Those damn Grimm brothers were about as annoying as the Olivers.”

“Marshall!” I hiss. “I
love
those Oliver ‘brothers.’ Now tell me what you know. Whatever it is, Laken knows it, too. Chloe knows. The whole damn universe is in on this one, and it’s really starting to piss me off.”

“I’d chastise you on the use of coarse words, but heaven knows I’m about to spout a few off myself.” He blows out a breath as if I’ve exasperated him.

“God, this must be serious.” Either that or it directly affects his libido. “Marshall”—I snatch him by the lapels—“you have to tell me what everyone knows. I’m going batshit.” I can’t fathom what would be so horrific that only Chloe would be willing to spill it.

“Know this.” Marshall leans in until I can feel his breath warming me. “The fruit of the rose family can be lethal. Its poisonous seed will certainly do this world in.”

“You’re talking in riddles.” My gaze falls out the window at that horrific dragon painted across the building with his terrifying grimace. His ruby eyes shimmer right through the fog with an eerie incandescent glow.

“Does the dragon fit into this—
Omen
?” I test his name on my lips. I’ve hated it all along. It feels evil, nefarious.

“Indeed he does.” Marshall shoulders up next to me and fixes his gaze on the creature’s awful countenance. He hones in his hatred and glares at the monstrosity as if it were a person.

The earth quakes, a roar erupts from the sky as the belly of those tar-colored clouds rip open, in one magnificent roar, and a deluge of rain falls over campus as if God, himself, were trying to soothe an open wound.

“Perfect.” I make a face at the grey needles falling slantwise. I’m going to get soaked on the way to my next class. I don’t have an umbrella.”

“Take mine.” He whips one out from under his desk and holds it low like a long, dark, phallic extension. Marshall buckles up his briefcase and takes a step toward the exit. “You’re going to need all the protection in this life that I can give you. I’ll find another way to keep dry.” He dematerializes right before my eyes.

“Wait! You didn’t tell me anything! I want answers, damn it!”

He gives a dark laugh. “You, my love, are the rose. Your betrothed is the dragon.”

My heart thumps loud and quick like a muted series of gunshots.

The dragon and the rose.

Good God, it sounds like a tragic poem.

Something, deep down inside, tells me it will be.

I can’t even think of going to class, instead I wander off campus, onto the city streets of Host, and meander aimlessly. Try as I might, I can’t begin to fathom what Marshall was trying to tell me. My betrothed is a dragon? Could that be Gage? Technically it could be Marshall, himself, or Logan for that matter, but Chloe’s words keep replaying in my mind like a haunting refrain.
Remember my diary, Skyla? The one that you burned just before you killed me?
You do, remember, don’t you, Skyla?

The light changes, and I start to cross the street, straight toward an ever-darkening shadow. Chloe appears before me, faint, as an apparition, and I pause right there in the middle of the street. The rain plasters her hair to her skull. Her gauzy clothes adhere to her elongated limbs like melted spider webs.

“Well-placed boyfriend.” She strums the words out like a dark love song as her voice rises high over the driving rain. “The truth is right here”—she glances down at my wedding ring—“staring you in the face.”

“No.” I shake my head while backing up. A horn goes off, and a strong pair of arms scoop me off my feet, rushing me to the curb—right through Chloe in her ghostly form.

“Thank you,” I whisper out of breath, fully expecting to find Gage, but it’s not. It’s my favorite stoner with his dirty blond hair, his face chiseled to perfection.

“Ellis?” I wrap my arms around the back of his neck, relieved in a sense.

“That’s right. I’m your knight in shining armor, ready and willing to serve.” He plops me down on my feet with a thump. “What the hell? You act like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“It was a demon if you want to get specific.” The rain reduces to a heavy mist, and I collapse the umbrella. “It was Chloe. Some strange crap is going on, Ellis. And I swear on all that is holy, if you know what it is, I’m going to go ape shit.”

“Cool. Let me know as soon as you find out. Try not to shred my guts this time, would you?” He shakes his head at the thought.

I may have sliced him in half once before. I’d like to say it was an accident, but, in truth, he pushed me well past my limit.

“Stay on my good side,” I warn.

“You’re in a mood.”

“You would be, too, if you were married and technically not living under the same roof as your husband.”

“Back up the train. I’m still shooting for the love honeys. I’m not into sword slingers if you catch my drift. And I’ve narrowed it down to one love honey, specifically. So, now that we’re up to speed on my end, what the heck are you talking about, Messenger?”

“
Oliver
.” I give a sly smile and hold up the sparkler on my left hand.

“Effin’ shit!” He barks out a laugh. “You and 44?”

My stomach pinches with heat at the mention of Gage’s old jersey number.

“Me and 44.” I blush as I say it. An image of Gage in his old uniform comes to me, and, for a second, I picture Logan standing right there next to him. A wave of grief washes over me, and I’m quick to submerge it. “Anyway. Things sort of suck right now.” I glare up at the sky because I’m willing to bet my mother has one eye open in my direction at all times. “They suck big, hairy, celestial balls. You hear me?” I shout it just over the noise of the golf carts and the dizzying number of people swishing by on bicycles.

“So you need new digs. I gotcha.” Ellis takes me by the hand and moves us toward the north side of the street as we cut through an alleyway. “So how’s school? Or, more to the point—how’s the nightlife? It must be rockin’ pretty hard since I haven’t seen your face at one of my get-togethers lately. I’m hurt, by the way.”