Authors: Addison Moore
Chapter 61
Mommy Dearest
Marshall’s home burns bright against the backdrop of a watercolor night. The night fog glows like paper, bleeds out its milky tendrils over the rim of the forest.
“Enter,” he gives a slight bow as he holds the door open for both Gage and me.
I’m curious as to why he invited me over to begin with, but I didn’t think he’d mind if I brought Gage.
“Mr. Oliver, I have a plethora of boxes in the barn, and I’d like them all placed on the front porch before morning. Might I trouble you to muscle them over?”
“Sure,” Gage doesn’t hide the fact he’s not thrilled with the task.
“Do circle around to the side yard. I’d loathe for you to trail muddied footprints throughout the house.”
Gage raises his brows in my direction before heading out back.
“Isn’t this lovely, Skyla? We’ve our own personal lackey.” Marshall’s lips curve into a nefarious smile.
I shake my head at him. “You owe me,” I say.
“Anything, Love.” He picks up my hand and kisses it before I can snatch it back.
“You let Ezrina play skin tag with her boy toy, and now I’m questionably defiled.”
“Nonsense. I’d pluck the wings off that ball of feathers myself if he mistreated my future bride in any way. There were rules—although vague—they were followed. You’re pure as the driven snow you plowed that poor girl’s head into. By the way, I was apprised of another near death you were party to inducing.”
“That’s right,” I say, rather proud just thinking of the way I took down Holden. “I didn’t need you after all.” I nestle in the satisfaction of knowing I could kick some Count ass all by my lonesome if needed. And, boy, was it ever freaking needed.
Marshall pulls back, folds his arms across his chest, narrows his gaze into me. “You have no clue what you have or haven’t done. You have an army of sniveling Fems ready to terrorize you out of your sanity, not to mention a war you’ve taken to losing right from the outset. You aren’t even aware of who the enemy is.”
“The enemy is Demetri,” I say it simple.
“Who is his
Count
erpart?”
I take in a breath. “My mother?”
He gives a dismayed blink. “Skyla,” he pulls my name out in a frustrated sigh. “Speaking of the mare, I’ve put in yet another request for you to speak with her—she’s accepted.”
“
Now
? Now that I’m out of the prison that is Ezrina’s flesh and that Logan is alive and well and living in his own body—
now
she wants to see me?” I huff a laugh. “No way.”
“You have to!” A female voice startles me from behind. It’s Giselle, Gage’s long dead sister. I go over and give her a hug. I’m relieved it’s her and not me, well, the me from L.A. two years ago. I’m still a little freaked out about sharing my personal space with another version of myself. I was rather annoying at that stage of the game and, well, overall hard to get along with sometimes.
“Thanks, but no,” I say. “I’m a little miffed at her at the moment.”
“You have no choice, Skyla,” Giselle takes my hand and the world begins to fade.
“No, wait! I need Gage,” my voice thickens, echoes as if it were in a tunnel.
Marshall scoffs at the idea. “We won’t be needing him. In fact, it would be awkward for all parties involved once I present you to the Justice Alliance as my future bride.”
“No!” But it’s too late to protest.
The world evaporates to nothing.
***
“Skyla.” My mother rises to meet me.
We appear in Ahava over the lake with the twin falls off in the distance. A red glow illuminates from the lower tier where the sword of the Master is stowed. That’s the culmination of this entire war. And here I am so close it hurts.
My mother takes her invisible seat next to three gentlemen, Rothello, who I’m not entirely convinced isn’t something sinister, and two gorgeous men who could pass as Marshall’s brothers.
“You’ve lost all three regions,” it comes so benevolently from my mother’s lips I’m alarmed at how comfortable she is with the idea.
“How about, congratulations on your All State win? Or, thank goodness you’re in your right mind and oh, yeah,
body
!” I don’t mean for it to sound as pissy as it does.
“You’ve come to grumble about my mothering skills?” Her eyes ignite crisp as lamplights.
“I haven’t come at all—you dragged me.”
“Skyla,” Marshall’s voice slashes like a whip. “There is a time for anger, and I assure you, this is far from it.”
“I’m not angry,” I’m quick to correct. “Anger would require me to care. I’m bothered by all of this.” I throw my hands in the air. “My own mother wanted to send me out into a warzone with no protective disc should I need to get back to Paragon for oh, I don’t know, the simple fact the two boys I love lay dying? But you knew about that didn’t you? You started this war on the heels of a tragedy.”
“You keep this up young lady and I’ll be sure it ends with one,” she snaps. Her hair glistens an iridescent gold, her face radiates a special aura all its own. Her entire being is lit up from the inside—reminds me of a firefly.
“Are you threatening me?” The words grate out of me, each their own sentence.
“Skyla,” Giselle pulls me back onto the grassy blue hill. “Please don’t infuriate the Justice Alliance.”
“You mean my mother. Why are you afraid of her?”
“She has nothing to fear,” Marshall takes me aside, “but you do.”
“I’ve called you here, Skyla,” my mother rises again, although this time she doesn’t look so welcoming. “I was going to educate you on a few strategic principles that would sway victory in your favor.” She gives a curt nod. “But I’ve decided against it.”
Figures.
“Instead, I’m going to increase your level of punishment for going against the Faction Council for the duration of the war.”
“I suppose you’d like a thank you,” I say it low under my breath.
“I would most certainly like a thank you. I gave you life,” she cuts a look that could carve a statue out of a tree trunk.
Funny, I didn’t think they pulled the life card up here in the nether sphere where they cavort with angels and strum on harps all day. It’s a tough job this Decision Council hobby she’s got herself caught up in—boss around the universe, torment your only child.
“Enough,” her voice erupts like a riot.
She hears everything, they all do
, Marshall gives a wistful smile as if he were enjoying this on some small scale.
Proceed to thank her, Skyla, so we may be dismissed
.
My mouth drops open at the thought.
“Thank you,” I seethe. Giselle pats my back as if to say job well done. “For harvesting me,” I continue, “like some able-bodied war machine you needed to
use
to fight your battles.”
“Forgive her my fine people,” Marshall bellows. “My future bride knows not of what she speaks,” he cuts me a hard look.
I’ve just verbally spit in all of their faces and now there would be hell to pay. I don’t need Marshall to spell it out for me.
We appear back in his kitchen abrupt and without warning.
“That was rude,” I say, dusting off my arms as if there were intergalactic residue left from the trip. “She didn’t even say goodbye.”
“That, my love, is the equivalent of someone hanging up on you.”
“I’ve had a mother or two mad at me before.”
“Not this one,” he doesn’t waver his harsh stare.
“She’ll get over it. It’s not like she’s going to kill me.”
“She’s on the Decision Council, Skyla.” He lifts my chin, soft with his finger. “She can change everything.”
Chapter 62
Call to Arms
Once Gage and I drop Mia and Melissa off at home, we speed over to the faction meeting.
We park high on the property behind a long row of sports utility vehicles—glossy sedans that look fresh off the lot.
We’re technically not allowed to attend these meetings because we’re under three hundred, well thirty, same difference. But apparently our presence has been requested. I have a feeling I’m in for my second ass whipping of the night.
“Logan’s here,” Gage whispers. He takes my hand as we cut through the thick curtain of fog towards the barnlike structure in the back of the Haver’s property.
“I’m surprised he hasn’t painted his truck yet—impounded, tarped it in the least, anything to hide Holden’s bombastic sense of self expression.” Every time I see those crazy orange flames, it makes me want to smack someone.
“I mentioned it this morning, he said he was looking into buying a new one.”
“I guess I forgot to let him in on the fact he owes Marshall 18K.” Wait, I think I did.
Gage gives a little laugh. “That’s what the bastard gets for pawing you.” His dimples sink with the hint of a mischievous smile.
“I like this bad boy side of you.”
“Oh yeah?” he sneaks a kiss just below my ear. “Wait till you see what I have planned for later.”
“Is it bad?”
“It’s corrupt, and vile, and most likely criminal in twelve different states,” he growls, pecking my neck with a series of kisses.
We run into Emma and Dr. Oliver just shy of the entrance. It sort of puts a damper on the sexual banter—and just before we got to the good part—the heavy use of expletives peppered with sacrilegious overtones.
Emma pinches her lips at the sight of me. Dr. Oliver doesn’t look too thrilled either.
“Something wrong?” Why do I get the feeling I’ve just stepped on a land mine?
“Let’s get inside,” Emma ushers us in quickly. “They’ve already begun.”
“I saw Giselle tonight,” I whisper, bribing her with the words I know she longs to hear in an effort to quell her hatred towards me.
“Bring me my daughter.” She stops all movement and clutches onto me as if I’ve got her stowed away somewhere for ransom.
“OK, I’ll bring it up next time she pops in.” I give a circular nod as she glides me towards a row of empty seats near the front. I hate the front. It’s the not-so-freaking-fun zone. People always get picked on for sitting up front, but something tells me this is reserved seating.
“Eighty-nine was the final count,” Nicholas Haver says. He’s a heavyset man with a triple chin whose broad chest and bright nose give the indication of an upcoming cardiac infarction. He grips his water bottle like a gavel. “In the event those who’ve just arrived missed the topic of conversation, eighty-nine was the number of Celestra souls sent to paradise during the last few weeks.”
“Shit!” I say out loud.
All eyes cut over to me as I sit there stunned by the annihilation of my people.
“Yes, Ms. Messenger,” Mr. Haver gives a cold steely look. “You should be appalled in every way,” his voice escalates. “In fact, you should be downright outraged that the one who took his hand to God and sent those brothers and sisters home is seated in your midst.”
He is? I do a quick survey for Demetri or Pierce or anyone who might remotely be capable of such bloodlust.
“Logan Oliver,” Nicholas Haver darts his name out like a poison arrow. “Son, it has come to my attention that you have breeched trust with the Celestra people and given your pledge to the enemy.”
A collective gasp circles the room.
“You may leave here tonight knowing full well you are no longer welcome at this or any other faction meeting that does not include your kind.” He sharpens an eye in Logan’s direction. “Boy, you see me coming your way, you had better cross the street if you know what’s good for you. I have nothing kind to say.”
“What about the war?” Someone shouts from the back of the room.
“A principality will be arriving to speak with us, in the near future. With the enemy among us I see no point in carrying on. Dismissed.”
That’s it?
The entire room booms with chatter as people gather their coats and head towards the exit. It’s like the whole meeting was held to expose the fact that Logan, well, actually Holden was nothing but an ass. No one is more aware of that than me. I could have sent a mass email and spared everyone the trouble.
Dr. Booth catches my eye from across the room and motions me over.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Gage and press against the flow of the crowd in an effort to get to him.
“Skyla, what’s happened to Logan?” Dr. Booth glances over my shoulder at him, full with suspicion. “I thought you said his conversion was to gain ground on the enemy, not slaughter his own people.”
“It is—
was
. Look, it wasn’t Logan. Logan was dead and now he’s not. It was Holden Kragger’s ghost. It was some bodily mix up when Ezrina tried to resurrect him back at the lab, only she couldn’t get it right because I spit in a Sector’s eye.”
Dr. Booth indulges in a good long blink. “Sorry I asked.”
I see Gage off in the distance talking to Logan. His blue eyes go off like high beams before retracting. His face sours at whatever it is Logan is telling him.
We make our way to the front where Dr. Booth exchanges niceties with the Olivers.
“Well, I suppose I’ll see all of you tomorrow bright and early for our collateral exchange,” Dr. Booth smiles over at them. “Logan,” he shakes his hand. “I understand the pizza business is doing you no favors these days.”
“It’s a fair trade. I don’t do it any favors either.” Logan shrugs it off like it’s no big deal.
“I have a luncheon next Thursday if you’d like the opportunity to cater the event.”
I want to kiss Dr. Booth for being so nice to Logan after Nicholas Haver all but turned him into a social pariah. Logan will be lucky he can
afford
a pizza after the character assassination that took place here tonight.
“I’ll pass,” Logan pats him on the back before heading outside. Gage gives a puzzled look and follows him out the door.
“Thanks anyway,” I offer.
Dr. Booth stares out curiously. “I gather he’s pretty upset over the treatment he received tonight. Either that, or it’s not Logan.” He winks. “A good business man never turns down potential revenue. See you in the morning.” He sails out the door.
Dear God—that better be Logan.