Crown of Ashes (Celestra Forever After Book 4) by Addison Moore (18)

“Not at all.” Wes offers a painful smile. “You and Ezrina are the only prominent female figures in her life.” He steps in, and my heart thumps because he looks so indistinguishably like Gage at the moment. “Thank you, Skyla. I may not say it often enough, but I appreciate you—in that respect.”

I don’t even let that pointy backward barb he laced it with bother me because I understand where he’s coming from.

“In that respect, I appreciate you, too. You’re a great dad, Wes.” I shrug up at him playfully. “Go figure.” I take off with Tobie as if I had just robbed a bank and make a beeline for a small familiar circle of peeps near the shrubbery.

Nat and Kate share a laugh while Pierce—the real deal—wraps his arms around Nat from behind. Both Nat and Kate are dressed as vixens, which is almost a requirement on this haunted night.

“Skyla.” Pierce gives an easy smile. “I can’t thank you enough for this gift.”

“Apparently, thanking me is a theme this evening.”

Kate clears her throat. “So, you know?” she whispers her loudest. That’s Kate, forever the trooper. Even with her vocal cords out of commission, that girl hasn’t complained once.

“Know what?” I blink over to Pierce just as Holden and Serena come up, and for a moment I’m breathless at her beauty. Her snow-white hair is pulled into a bun, and she’s dressed as a prima ballerina. Holden is dressed like an unfortunate dumpster diver, and I’m not quite getting the connection, but nevertheless, Serena is a beauty.

“We’re going back.” Pierce gives Nat a painful glance. “I’m going back.”

“Me, too.” Kate shrugs over at me. “Your mother came to me in a dream. We have less than a month.” She reaches over and picks up my hand, warming it with hers. The silk scarf around her neck quivers in the breeze. “Is there any way you can utilize me? I haven’t done a thing to help.”

“No. The whole point was for you to enjoy another taste of life—the life I cut short for almost all of you. It’s my way of saying I’m sorry. But a month?” I’m panicked at the thought, and I’m not sure why. “Did she happen to say when and how?”

Kate shares a quick look with Pierce. “She said she would let me know the night before.”

“Perfect.” I look to Pierce with a heavy heart. “Did you enjoy your stay?”

“Yes. Hell yes.” He tousles Nat’s hair, causing it to spring skyward in tight little coils. “I think we needed this. A long goodbye.” His gaze falls to hers, and she lunges for him, conjoining themselves at the mouth and stumbling back behind the bushes.

“Don’t worry, Messenger.” Holden nods to me. “He’s shooting blanks.”

“Oh, wow.” I twist Tobie away from all Kraggers present. “I suppose that’s a small mercy. Rumor has it, you’re not, though.” Marshall told me all about their little nest egg of children, quite literally. I think they had four or five hatchlings at least.

“The kids have been impossible,” Serena laments as she looks to the evergreens. “But I think everyone is looking forward to getting back to normal again. Earth is nice, but sky is better.”

By “normal” I assume she means feathers. At least they’re taking their captivity in stride. I know for a fact, Emerson is a hater of all things aviary these days. Can’t say I blame her. I’ll feel horrible once she’s forced to leave.

Holden drops a kiss over the top of his better half’s pale hair. “Feathers suit me, Messenger.”

“That’s good to hear.” Especially since there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. “I’ll be glad to have you floating around once again. But Chloe is sort of a fixture around me now, so be careful not to get too close when she’s within wing-shot.”

“Will do.” He shakes his head, rife with worry. “Dude, you are going to regret playing in that lava pit. She is going to burn your skin off before you ever realize it’s missing.”

“She’s capable of killing you, Skyla.” Serena touches her hand to her neck as if my own head were on the chopping block.

“I’ll be fine. Hey, where’s Emerson?” I’m racked with guilt over the fact she’ll have to turn in that black lipstick of hers for a black beak. Tragically, I see no point in her rotting away in Mia’s room for the next hundred years.

“She’s here.” Holden leans in, his posture suddenly wary. “You know she’s banging that dude your sister’s dating.”

“Gabe? God, I hate Gabriel Armistead!” I hate his sister even more, but I’m loath to even say her name. Both Carson and her airheaded friend, Carly, have been known to appear from thin air once I say their names out loud.

“The other one,” Serena corrects. “The bad boy with all the whips and chains and that smelly leather jacket. Believe you me, it’ll be the first thing I crap on once I’m back in proper form.” She wrinkles her nose at the thought of him.

I suck in a sharp breath, and Tobie jerks along with me. “Crap! Excuse me, I have to find Mia.” I take off through the crowd of costumed bodies, through the laughing, the haunting music that people still find enough rhythm in to move to, and search for my sisters, but for the life of me I can’t find them—I find the Bitch Squad instead.

“Messenger.” Em nods me over where she and her trio of besties are all dressed in the same uniform I happened to don. I can’t help but giggle at the sight as I bop on over with Tobie tugging on my hair as if she’s attempting to braid it.

Michelle howls with laughter. “West Paragon bitches live to cheer another day!”

Chloe scowls at both the birthday princess and me. “Bree and I still cheer, you idiot.” She sheds a dark smile my way. “Thanks to you, my liege.”

“And don’t you forget it.” Tobie squirms uncomfortably at the sight of her mother, and I set her down a moment. “Chloe.” I point down to the pint-sized princess. “We’ve got a future West cheerleader right here, and it happens to be her birthday.”

“God, don’t remind me.” She shivers. “My junk still hurts from evicting her.”

“Chloe.” I pick Tobie up and take a step toward her mother. “At least wish her a happy birthday.”

Chloe bares her fangs a moment before snapping her teeth at the little one, and Tobie starts in on a wailing cry.

Em takes her from my arms. “Don’t be such a shit, Chloe. Even you have a mother that loves you.”

Michelle snorts. “Come on, we all knew Chloe wouldn’t be up for mother of the year. Serpent of the year maybe.” She and Em share a laugh, but Chloe looks as if she’s plotting a couple of homicides for later.

Bree hops over in her West Uniform and screams at the sight of us. “I knew it! We got the band back together, girls!” She rings her arm around Chloe’s neck, and Tobie laughs and claps as Bree smothers her mother. “Let’s put on a little show!”

“I don’t know about that.” For one, my safety pin is already warping under the strain of my belly. One good flip could render both this skirt and my back useless. Face it, I’m in no condition to jump and thump the way I used to. At least not yet.

Gage comes up with both of our little skunks in tow, and as if on cue, my little white-tailed stinkers extend their arms, cooing a choir of Mama! Mama!”

“It’s the Backseat Boys!” I edge in to collect a couple of sloppy wet kisses, and Tobie intercepts by slapping my face with a hungry kiss of her own. She pulls back those fat little hands still pressed to my cheeks. “Mama!” Her entire face lights up, and the smile quickly dissipates from my face.

“Oh!” I force the smile to come again. My heart just shattered into a million little pieces for this precious baby girl. Life had given her Chloe as a mother, Wesley as a father. As the parent lottery goes, she didn’t exactly hit it big in either category. Yes, Wes loves her—but he’s still Wes.

“Yes.” I nod, my heart and mind loosening to the idea. “Mama.” I take her tiny hand and place it over my heart, sealing myself to this tiny little being forever.

“Mama,” she says it once again, far more docile. Her head rests over my chest as if memorizing the beat of my heart.

“Well, well”—Chloe snarks—“this means war, Messenger.” She bursts out laughing, her pearly teeth glittering under the duress of the moon. “Kidding! I don’t give a rat’s ass. In fifteen years, she’ll be calling us both bitch.”

“Chloe!” I place my hand over Tobie’s little ear. Although—if Mia’s fifteenth year of life was any indication, Chloe might be right.

Wes comes up and gathers the masses to a large frilly pink confection, and everyone sings “Happy Birthday” while Tobie claps herself silly. Thankfully, Lex catalogs the entire event with that baseball bat lens she carries around.

Logan comes up with Ellis and Giselle, both dressed as condiments, ketchup and mustard bottles—Giselle’s idea, no doubt. She’s started her freshman year at Host and is living in a dorm on campus—or so Emma thinks. I happen to know that both Ellis and Giselle are shacking up in one of those rodent-infested dumps his father owns. Probably the same scabies-infested ball box Gage and I lived in once upon a haunted time. It was a nightmare. The hellhole of an apartment—not living with Gage, of course.

“You know”—Logan stands between Gage and me, slinking an arm over each of our shoulders—“I do believe this is the first Halloween on Paragon where things haven’t fallen to crap.”

Instinctually, I glance over my shoulder at Chloe who’s working on a cheer routine with Bree.

“I think you’re right.” Just as I’m about to exhale in peace, I spot Melody Winters making her way toward them at a decent clip. She pulls Chloe out of formation by the elbow as if she were about to scold her and is quick to whisper something into her ear.

Chloe turns slowly until her eyes are locked with mine, hard, serious, angry as all hell.

“What’s going on?” Gage follows my gaze, as does Logan.

“I don’t know.”

Bree jogs over. “Get that smelly monkey off your back, girl. You’re coming with me.” She plucks Barron from me and dumps him into Logan’s arms. “It’s time to show these kids that us old girls still got it.”

“I don’t know who you’re calling old, Bree, but it sure as hell isn’t me,” I say, tripping over my feet, just trying to keep up with her. Nat, Lex, Michelle, and Em all gather around Chloe like chicks to their menacing mama.

“Here we are.” Chloe steps up with that familiar I’m-going-to-filet-you-in-your-sleep look in her eye. “Yes, Messenger. How about one more cheer for old times’ sake.” Those dark eyes of hers pin to mine with venom.

“What’s going on?” I whisper as Michelle barks for the crowd to gather around. “What lie did Melody Winters spill at your feet?”

Chloe leans in, and I can see the rage percolating within her like a nuclear holocaust just waiting to find a home. Why do I suddenly suspect that home is me?

Brielle jumps between us, almost landing us into the glowing Caribbean blue water of the swimming pool behind us. “All right! West Paragon class of—” she looks uneasily to Chloe and me, but we’re too busy locked in our silent standoff to answer. “Whatever! Hit it, Ellis!”

The music shifts to an old, familiar, dare I say reliable beat that my hips swayed to what felt like a million times while I screamed my heart out for Logan and Gage, and Ellis, too, for the entire West Paragon football team as they brought us victory after victory.

My body snaps and shakes to those familiar moves as we gyrate, scream, and shout to the delight of the boys, some of the girls, too. But it’s Logan and Gage my eyes stray to every chance I get, each one holding a precious little button-nosed boy in their arm, and my heart is full of love.

The girls break out into pyramid formation, and I pause. Hell, I think we should all give this ode to genuflection a little post pregnant pause. Let’s call a spade a spade. I’m not the butterfly I once was.

Chloe climbs into position and roars, “Get on, Messenger!”

Like a reflex, my body hikes up Em’s back and lands my right knee on Chloe’s spine and left on Bree’s. The crowd goes wild at the sight of this postpartum feat.

Now. Usually our dismount consists of me leaping to the ground with my arms held high like some Olympic hopeful on her way to gold, but at the moment the grass has about all the appeal of a thousand tiny razors pointing up at me with their knife-sharp tongues, and my knees cringe at the impact they’re about to absorb. I’d rather not find my kneecap floating near my femur later this evening. But Chloe and Bree apparently have other plans as they send me flying backward into the powder blue water that looks about as welcoming as an arctic glacier.

My body breaks the surface like a Volkswagen through a plate-glass window.

COLD! FREEZING!

Oh my shit! My fingers twitch to the surface as I sink ever closer to the bottom, and one by one I watch as those old familiar West Paragon uniforms and the girls in them dive in around me like carbonated missiles. Then I see her. Chloe comes at me like the demon I know her to be, pinning my arms and legs with her own as she drives us to the bottom. Her eyes grow wild with rage as she ignites a bubbling scream right in my face.

I know what you’ve done to me, Skyla. And I will show no mercy.

Dear God, what have I done?

Gage snatches her off me and races me to the surface with a laugh caught in his mouth. My beautiful husband with his dark hair slicked back, those black grease marks under his eyes only accentuate those cobalt spheres I’m obsessed with. Gage’s eyes are the only color that seems to exist on this haunted horrid night.

“Damn, you’re hot.” His dimples go off as he lands a heated kiss over my lips. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he whispers into my ear. “This football player has a cheerleader he needs to score a touchdown with.”

“Sounds like you’re about to make all of my jersey chasing dreams come true.” My chest bucks as I struggle to catch my breath, but it’s Chloe my eyes are glued to.

She slithers out of the pool like a serpent and takes off into the night, dripping with water, dripping with revenge.

What the hell have I done now?

Dear God, I don’t think I want to know.

I let my body sink below the surface once again, feel the air turning into bubbles in my ears. I’m frightened. I’ve been frightened nonstop ever since I’ve set foot on this island.

Welcome to Paragon.

Every day is Halloween, indeed.

“Shit,” my mother hisses as Chloe’s face stains that oversized television screen Drake has stuffed into the room as an ode to his financial empire he and Bree built.

My heart thumps once as I switch the television off. My mother doesn’t let the expletives fly for nothing, but even she is shocked to hell concerning the fate of Chloe Bishop.

“How does something like this happen?” she laments as Gage and I finish feeding the boys. “Anyway”—she shakes Chloe and all of her bad juju off with a shiver—“happy birthday, Skyla.” She plants one on me. “And happy birthday to you, too, young man!” She strips off Nathan’s sock and does her best to gobble up his tiny toes.

“Careful there. He’s just about ready to take off on those cute little puppies.” I wipe his face clean as his Mee-Maw dots him with a kiss. It never ceases to amaze me that the boys look more and more like Gage Oliver doppelgangers with every passing day. I have no doubt that in just a few short years, the girls will be breaking down the door. Of course, I could never blame them. Gage Oliver is a work of holy glory—totally worthy of a few attempted break-in felonies.

I scan the house with a smile. The balloons are up. Mia and Melissa are still working hard to put the finishing touches on all the decorations both in and out of the house. The party will be small, just family and a few friends, and the cake is homemade, something vegan and organic, a gift from Emily and Ember who helped in the endeavor. She’s quite the little chef in training.

Gage cleans up Barron and nods me outside to the patio where the afternoon fog is already settled in the valley of the Landon backyard.

“Happy birthday, beautiful.” Gage steals a kiss as the boys squirm between us.

“Let’s put them down. We can’t carry them forever.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips. I very much want to carry my boys forever. Barron latches onto my leg and Nathan onto his father’s. “Can you believe a year ago they were still safe in my tummy?”

“It was their last few hours of uninterrupted peace.” Gage takes a careful step back and leaves Nathan struggling to balance on his own two feet, and I gasp. Carefully, I do the same, and Barron looks up at me as if I’ve just left him by the side of a cliff, and I feel like crap.

“Don’t move,” Gage whispers as we watch the boys to see what they’ll do next. And they do the unthinkable. Barron throws out his left foot and looks up at Gage as if asking for approval.

“You can do it, big man.” Gage does his best to cheer him on. “It’s all you.” He looks to Nathan who’s staring up at him with rapt attention. “You, too.”

And just like that, the boys each take a wobbly step at the very same time.

“Oh my goodness!” Mom claps up a storm from behind and sends both boys flat on their bottoms, wailing at the top of their lungs.

Gage lifts a brow my way. “There goes that good time. But we saw it. We got to witness our boys’ first steps.” He leans in and blesses me with that mouth, and I’m suddenly anxious to get him back to bed. Yes, moving to Emma’s backfired on us twice in one month, but I gave it my best shot. Once she started in on a dirty diaper rant that spanned three hours—I knew picking up stakes was for the better. And for the record, I did not let my boys sit in their mess. They sort of blew their poopy load once she walked into the room. A coincidence? I think not. But, in my defense, our home is just about ready. In fact, I have no clue why we can’t move in right now. It looks perfect to me. Lex has helped me furnish it with the overflow from a decorator’s warehouse in Seattle, and I now actually have a dream home behind the gates at Paragon Estates. It’s too good to be true, and on no level does it feel real. It went from beast to beauty in a single miraculous year. Plus, Gage and I are stronger than ever. Our boys are walking. The love between Gage and me blooms anew each and every day. We really do have it all.

My gaze drifts to my gorgeous husband, and my body cries out for him. Suddenly, it feels like a damn good idea to have a thousand babies with Gage Oliver.

The guests pour out into the yard with Emma and Barron each quick to snap up a grandchild.

Mom drags Tad over and tries desperately to draw the Olivers into polite conversation—an oxymoron in and of itself, considering both Tad and Emma are present.

Tad whacks Barron in the leg with his cane. “Rumor has it, I’m about to dump a couple of freeloaders in less than twenty-four hours! I’m popping the bubbly tonight. Canned beer for everybody! Who’s with me?”

Mom is quick to smack him down like an unwanted gnat. “I said it was a surprise, Tad Landon! I should take that cane and beat you with it!” Mom is quick to drag Tad off, berating him all the way to the edge of the patio, and for a second I’m fearing she’s about to give him a firm shove off.

Emma spins poor baby Barron away from the potential beatdown, not that she wouldn’t want to watch. Heck, that might be the most entertaining aspect of the evening, considering I shot down my mother’s offer to dress like a pasty-faced demon. It’s amazing how many times I had to shout no clowns directly in her face before she got the message that she wouldn’t be donning copious amounts of red lipstick while she overshot her mouth.

“What’s this?” Emma looks from me to Gage as if we had some explaining to do, and he winces.

“I was going to save this for later.” He pulls me in with that loving look in his eyes. “Your mom was helping me out with a little surprise.”

“That usually doesn’t end well.” My hands glide down to the seat of his pants, and I cop a feel before moseying right back to his waist. I wasn’t kidding when I said Gage looked especially delicious tonight. Dear God, I hope baby number three doesn’t make his or her—or God forbid, their debut in nine months’ time. This boy has my ovaries popping.

Gage sheds that signature grin, and I die in the sweetness of the pure joy he’s exuding. “It ends well tonight.” He digs his hand into his pocket and emerges with a shiny gold key. “We’re spending the night in our own home. Happy birthday, Skyla.” His eyes gloss with tears. Gage Oliver is radiating with elation, and right now so am I. “We’re going home.”

“Home!” I clasp my arms over him tight and take in a breath that feels as if I’ve waited years to inhale. “Oh my God!” I jump up onto him, and he spins me with a laugh. “Gage! I love you.” I slip down in his arms until we’re face-to-face once again. “This is the third best gift you’ve ever given me.”

He inches back a notch, clearly stymied and perhaps a bit affronted by my claim.

“First, there was you, then our children, and now a house that we get to spend the rest of our lives turning into a home. Life couldn’t get any sweeter than this.”

His grin widens, and the whole universe gets suctioned into those dimples that I long to worship with my tongue tonight. I’m pretty sure Gage is growing tired of all the tongue baths I’ve implemented over the years. But I can’t help it. Gage is delicious, right down to the very last bite, and tonight I do plan on biting in all the right places.

He glances out toward the woods, and his grin dissipates a moment.

“Hey?” I wave my hand over his eyes, and his attention jolts back to me. “Everything okay?”

His body relaxes beneath me. “Everything is great.”

Barron breaks into spontaneous applause, but all Emma has to offer is a scowl as if I’ve just shit all over her petunias. How is it that my mother-in-law of all people can’t seem to stand me?

“Well, your father and I sure didn’t move in behind the gates at quite a young age,” she starts. It’s Emma’s new song. Complain and whine about what Skyla and Gage have. “And that beast of a refrigerator.” She rolls her eyes. Emma has had quite the list of complaints after inspecting my decorator choices. There wasn’t a hair of carpet that she couldn’t find ten negative things to say something about.

I spot Mom off with Demetri while poor Tad has his head all but dunked in the punch bowl, and I’m thankful for the fruity offense because I’m sure he’d love to play off Emma’s poor-me, privileged-you routine. Emma looks to Gage. “Your father and I decided not to install a refrigerator that cost more than a car when we redid our kitchen. It was a practical decision because we knew you’d be off to college soon, and boy were we right. Have you seen the tuition costs at Host?” She narrows her judgmental gaze my way. “Don’t act surprised in seventeen years when they’re off seeking higher education, and there’s not a penny in the pot. I’m warning you tonight. It’ll be here before you know it.” She smacks her traffic cone orange lips together and shoots her gaze to her son like a skilled sniper. “Are you sure you needed those top-of-the-line appliances? Really? The Wolf range with the red knobs? A double oven at that? Skyla”—she turns her jealous wrath my way once again, and suddenly I’m feeling moved to shove someone off the patio myself—“when was the last time you even opened an oven?”

“This morning when my mother asked me to put Tad’s underwear on the top rack.” Honest to God, the dryer is on the fritz, and he won’t get out of the shower unless my mother warms his tighty whities.

Emma’s face grows pale, flaccid, and sickly—a trifecta of agony that usually has the power to shut her down for a few solid minutes.

Although—good God, Emma has a point. If the one and only thing I put into the oven this year was Tad’s underwear, we are off to one fucking bad start as far as my culinary skills are concerned.

“But Emily volunteered to give me cooking lessons.” I look at Gage with a furious nod as if this totally justified my outrageous choice in kitchen appliances. “Lex says I won’t regret a single move I made. In fact, she said our new kitchen is so drop-dead gorgeous she’s offered to take pictures of it and submit it to Paragon Today. We’ll be house famous.”

“Sounds like it’s bound to happen.” Gage beams with pride straight from his pores, and suddenly I wish this party were on its tail end. I have a feeling tonight is about to give our one-night honeymoon a run for its sexed-up money—in our very own home!

Emma chokes. “Well, I think—”

Barron clears his throat and wraps an arm around Emma for a moment in that shut-the-hell-up kind of way. “What Emma is trying to say is, welcome to the neighborhood. You’ll be moving in just in time to put up the Christmas lights. The Paragon Estates community takes extra pride in decking the halls. At least the exterior that all can see.”

Gage wraps his arms around me from behind. “Challenge accepted.” I feel the vibrations of his voice tremble over my back, and I can’t help but purr. “Skyla and I will have that house visible from the moon by December first.”

“I can’t wait.” I spin into my beautiful husband’s arms. “And I want inflatables, and a thousand of those little signs that say Santa stops here, and tinsel on all the evergreens.”

“Oh dear!” Emma chortles as if I’ve just said something ridiculous. “I’m afraid we don’t do those kinds of things at the Estates. You’ll have to leave all those inflatables and cute little signs—and, my God, all of the tinsel here at the Landon house where they belong.”

“Where they belong?” My tone is curt, and well, bitchy, but let’s face it, she drew first tinsel.

“On that note.” Gage points to the small crowd at the base of the patio. “I think we’d better mingle with our guests.”

Mia flags me over near the mobile home, and I make a break for my sweet little sister. “What’s up?” I give a little hop toward the girl who holds my likeness.

“You’re up,” she snarls. “When is that little witch going to be shoved back in that disgusting oversized cage I keep in my bedroom?”

I blink at her a moment. It takes a second to register that the little witch in question is Emerson Kragger, and no sooner do I open my mouth to say something on the topic of cages and feathers than the witchy Goth owl herself shows up on the scene.

“What the hell.” Emerson grunts with that dead charm only she can exude. Her hair is dyed black as pitch, and her eyes are so drawn in with kohl all you see are two bright blue beacons staring back at you.

“What’s going on?” No sooner do I ask the question than I recall the fact that Rev and Emerson have been rumored to be playing hide the Vienna sausage. And, why yes, I did take a moment to swipe at Revelyn Booth’s boy parts, but only because I have it on good authority he’s dipped said mini wiener into my sister—thus stealing her most prized possession, her virginity.

Emerson gets in Mia’s face. “This twerp actually thinks I want anything to do with that wannabe biker with a boner the size of a Chapstick.”

“Ha!” I bark out a short-lived laugh because Emerson and I happen to be on the same teeny-wienie page.

Mia gives her a hard shove to the chest. “She slept with him!”

Emerson gets in her face. “Only to get him off my back!”

“Whoa.” I step in between them. “Mia—clearly they’re not together. So please give Emerson some peace on earth”—I turn to the Goth queen with my lashes lowered—“while she’s still on it. In this form, anyway.”

Emerson bears her pearly white fangs and growls. “You should really consider keeping me around, Messenger. I’ve got balls, and I know how to use them. Not to mention the fact I’m genuinely on your side, unlike that idiot you entered into a covenant with.” She stalks off, and I catch her making a beeline for Pierce and Nat. My stomach goes sour at the thought of Chloe and that covenant.

“What’s she talking about?” Mia shakes it off as if she wasn’t all that concerned.

“Never you mind. Just stay away from Rev. I’m sorry you had to see his true cheatin’ heart colors shining through.”

Mia rolls her eyes as if the thought were absurd. “It’s not cheating if we have an open relationship.”

My mouth contorts into all shapes and sizes, but not a word evicts itself. For all the times I’ve been accused of having one of those very same things, it makes my skin crawl to think Mia is partaking willingly in such a ridiculous arrangement.

“Oh, save it,” she snips as she glares at someone coming up from behind. “I learned from the best.” She stalks off, and Gage lands by my side.

“Everything okay?”

“Right as acid rain.”

“Come on, we’ve got guests.” He leads us straight to Laken and Coop, and I pull her into a tight rocking hug because God knows I need one after that bitch-fest only Emma can provide.

They both wish me a happy birthday, and I’m quick to wave it off. “This day isn’t about me anymore. It’s all about Nathan—and Barron. I think from now on we’ll just have two parties back-to-back and celebrate both boys.” True as God. There used to be so much anticipation and excitement around my birthday and Gage’s, too, but this year it feels as if our birthdays were the least important news on the planet.

“Sounds good.” Coop nods Gage over to the side, and they start talking shop. Gage has been helping Coop with West’s football team on and off since last summer, and they’ve just closed out the season.

“Skyla.” Laken shakes her head and pulls me in by the elbow. “Are you freaking out over this whole Chloe mess?”

A bundle of fear knots up in my gut. “No.” I wince. “Okay, I’m lying.” Nearly a month ago, the night that Chloe submerged me in deep waters for old times’ sake—we found out that Chloe had risen to the top of just about every most wanted list—for questioning by the CIA. Nevertheless, over the last few weeks, her face has been popping up like unwanted blemishes all over the island in poster form—cited as a suspicious person. Hell, the peeps on Paragon have known that from the moment she was born. Well, thankfully, Ezrina looks so different she isn’t in any danger. That little angel of hers, Alice, needs her mama to stay out of any and every federal holding facility. But Chloe, my God, the feds have amped up the search for her. She’s been on the national news, all over the Internet, and in every grocery store rag you can think of. You’d think she had robbed the world vault of all its gold the way they’re laying the heat on her.

“I’ve told her to lay low,” I whisper as I glance to the evergreens skirting the property. “I even offered to send her back to the Transfer, but she hates the Kres and Wes dynamic duo so much she’d rather fry in a thousand electric chairs than listen to their primal grunting. Chloe’s words, not mine.” Laken’s features soften, and I gasp at the realization of what I’ve done. “I’m sorry,” I mouth.

“No, God no, don’t apologize. She’s been sort of a godsend. And honestly, she’s one of the reasons we didn’t kill him—but mostly it was Tobie. Anyway, there’s been a new plan in action for months, and Coop and I will be implementing it soon—and before you ask—it’s nothing I want to talk about on your birthday. So don’t even try to wrangle it out of me.” She sinks her forehead into her palm. “I can’t believe I actually contemplated the murder of another human being.” She shakes it off. “I wasn’t actually going to go through with it, but my God, it felt good to plan it out to the very last detail.”

“Don’t I know it!” Bree pops her head over Laken’s shoulder. “I totally felt that way about you—but I’m ready and willing to bury the hatchet.” She wraps the crook of her elbow around my neck and nearly decapitates me. “Go ahead and apologize, and we’ll start from scratch.”

You can hear the copious amounts of air getting sucked into Laken’s lungs.

“Brielle.” I untangle myself from her stranglehold. “You can’t be serious. Laken has done nothing to apologize over.”

Laken combs her fingers through her long caramel waves as if she were readying to pull every last one out in frustration. “Actually, I do owe you an apology.” She offers a stiff smile at my self-proclaimed bestie’s way. “You and I never really got off on the right foot. I sort of barreled onto Paragon and snatched your best friend away from you without giving it another thought. It was inconsiderate of me.”

“Damn straight, it was.” Bree is quick to glom on to Laken’s line of thinking.

“And for that I’m sorry.” Her shoulders compress with the uncalled for mea culpa. “Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Laken Flanders. I happened to have married my best friend in the whole wide world. I can see that Skyla is yours,” she says it sweetly enough, and yet her hand hangs there an unordinary amount of time without any reciprocal love.

“I see what you did there,” Bree squeezes the words out nice and slow. “Well, it just so happens that I married my best friend—twice!” Her eyes twitch over the circumference of the yard. “In fact, I’m going to jump him right freaking now and prove it.” She bolts off in the direction of the mobile home.

“Never mind her.” I dismiss Bree and her antics with a wave. “Guess who is going to spend the night in her new house for the very first time tonight?”

“I’d say me, but considering the fact Coop and I are still in the rental phase of our existence—oh my God, Skyla!” She wraps her arms around me and sways the both of us to the rhythm of her squeals. “That is fantastic!” She pulls back with tears glittering in her eyes. “Coop and I are so very happy for you guys.”

“Thank you. And I know it’s genuine.” I pause and give her hand a quick squeeze. “And I know it’s not easy—considering the fact my husband’s face looks more than slightly familiar to you.”

She gives an anxious look just past me, and I turn to find Gage chatting with Wes while Tobie toddles around his legs.

“Trust me, I know the difference between Gage and Wes.” Her voice grows soft. “The funny thing is, all those years ago in Cider Plains, there really wasn’t much of one. Gage’s personality is sort of the before to Wesley’s after.” We watch as Demetri heads over and completes their circle, and my blood runs cold with an ironic thought. “What if Gage is the before and Wes is the after—as in Gage’s afterlife?” I shake the thought loose. “Gage would never behave like Wes, dead or alive. Leave it to my errant thoughts to kill off Gage right before his birthday.”

Laken and I share a nervous laugh. “At least have the decency to kill him once he’s had his cake.”

“Amen to that,” a cool voice hums from behind, and we spin to find America’s most wanted right here in the Landon backyard.

“Chloe.” I reach out to embrace her, and she holds up her hands as if I were about to shove a viper in her face.

“That’s okay, Skyla.” Those dark eyes of hers zero in on mine, filled with venom, brimming with hate. “We don’t have to pretend anymore. It was so damn exhausting parading around like freaking unicorns with their butts welded together by a rainbow. I don’t live in Bree’s little bestie la-la land, so let’s just call a spade a spade. I’ve always hated you.” She scowls at Laken. “What the hell are you staring at?”

Laken lets out a tired sigh, and a white plume escapes her nostrils, alerting me to the fact we should probably move this party inside. “I think I like this side of you, Chloe. It’s honest and raw, and brutal around the edges the way God intended you to be. Don’t put on a mask around people—you’re the only one who’ll be confused.”

Bree pops up with an unwilling Drake just as Chloe is readying to knife Laken’s lady balls off.

“You know”—Chloe wraps an arm around Laken’s shoulders, lithe and smooth like a tiger readying for the kill—“I think I like you, too. Maybe you can be my new bestie.” She says that last word with all the sarcastic inflection only Chloe can afford.

“What’s this?” Brielle staggers back as if she were sucker punched, and Drake makes a run for it while he can. “First, you infiltrate Skyla, then you call out my man, and now you tackle the Bishop?”

“The Bishop?” Both Chloe and I say in unison before glowering at one another a moment.

Brielle scoffs at the thought. “Well, you can forget it. Skyla, Drake, and Chloe, they all belong to me, so you can just walk your pretty little self back to Tennessee or wherever the hell you’re from and take that smart-aleck attitude with you.”

Laken’s lips twitch as if she’s holding back a laugh. “I’m from Kansas. And trust me, a part of me wishes I can rewind each day all the way to the time of my death—and before that, just so I could start all over again. But I can’t.” Her tone sharpens as do her features. Bree is in for it now, and I completely think she deserves it on some level. “And you know what? I happen to like the way things turned out for me. I have a wonderful friend in Skyla, a gorgeous sweet, smart, funny husband”—Coop comes up from behind and wraps his arms around her, showing off that handsome as hell smile—“and as for Chloe and me?” She looks to Chloe, puzzled as to what might come next. “We’re still feeling things out. And you know why? Because I have a heart for the disenfranchised. I happen to care about people. Unlike you, Brielle, I welcome them. I care about how they feel, and I want to make them comfortable. It’s called being a decent human being.”

Brielle chokes on her words, and Laken holds up a finger as if to stop her from even trying.

“Furthermore, I’m not going to abandon any friendships because of your insecurities. In the event you haven’t noticed, none of us are in high school anymore. Both Skyla and Chloe can have more than one best friend. Skyla and Chloe can both be my best friends.” Coop shoots me a look as if to ask what the hell? “And simultaneously they can be your best friends, too. You and I can be friends if we took the time to water a relationship and watch it grow. All it takes is a little careful attention. But to get to the starting gate, we need to be civil to one another, let down our guard, stop accusing one another of snatching people out from under us, and be as amicable as possible. It’s not rocket science. It’s just common sense.”

The fog blows in thick between us as if celebrating Laken’s victory.

Just as I’m about to congratulate Laken on a speech well done, Brielle starts in on her chicken bone in the throat routine once again.

She looks to me, wild-eyed. “Are you just going to sit there and let her tell me off like that?”

“Brielle?” I shake my head, completely at a loss for words. “Yes, I am.”

She sucks in a breath, and half the fog around her dissipates. “And you?” She gapes at Chloe.

“Get over it, Johnson. Grow a pair, will you? Laken has balls. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from her. She’s open to being decent to you. Who the hell cares if she’s having coffee or sleeping with Skyla? I sure don’t, and you want to know why? Because I know my place in Skyla’s life. I know that no matter who she’s ‘besties’ with”—Chloe shoves her fang-like air quotes in Bree’s face—“and God, I hate that word. Don’t fucking use it around me, got it? Nevertheless, Skyla and I are solid in our dissatisfaction with one another. And I know that some things will never change. Hear that? Skyla and I are unchanging. So if you’re as close to her as you think you are—feel secure in knowing that no matter how many morons she’s lifting pinkies with, there’s always room for one more—and that would be you.” Chloe straightens, staring down her oldest friend, and Bree nods as if this entire bestie fiasco suddenly made sense to her.

“I get it. You’re a genius now, Chloe, aren’t you?” Bree gives a couple of doll-like blinks, and for a moment I’m frightened. I’ve known Brielle to be a lot of things, but sarcastic isn’t one of them. I’m getting the feeling I should intercept, and quickly.

“Since we’re doling out life lessons so freely tonight”—I pull a tight smile in Chloe’s direction—“why don’t you take a brief moment and say hello to your daughter, and maybe even have Lex snap a few pictures of the two of you?” Lexy is around somewhere doing just that—documenting the boys’ first birthday party.

Chloe tips her head back and laughs so sharp and loud, Gage and Logan glance over from their conversation with Ellis.

“Skyla—my darling little Skyla.” She shakes her head. Her lids hang low, and there’s a note of despondency I’ve never seen before. Chloe on a good day is dangerous, but Chloe knocked off her axis and desperate is an entirely other animal. “Wouldn’t that just solve all my problems? A little snuggle-fest that Bakova could add to her bloated portfolio.”

Emily, Nat, and Kate head over with caution.

“Don’t you judge me,” she snaps in their direction. “None of your lives turned out that great either. Kate—you are dead. Read up on the definition and figure out a way to stop breathing. It’s confusing the hell out of people, and nobody can understand whatever the fuck you’re trying to say.” She steps in close to their tightknit circle. “Em, you’re miserable, and we both know it. The only solace you have is in the kitchen. Wake up and stop chasing a man who isn’t even halfway interested in you. You’re smart, and you kick ass in everything you do. Get your own place, open your own damn kitchen, and give the Gas Lab some competition on this island.” She glowers over at Nat just as Michelle walks up with an uncertain gait with Lexy not far behind. “Nat, you’re fucking a dead guy. Need I say more? When his coffin closes one last time—and it will—go find yourself a decent person who treats you like a queen. Stop cutting guys off at the balls without giving them a chance just because they’re not Pierce. It’s going to be a long life. You might as well enjoy it.” She steps into Michelle, and a shit-eating grin gobbles up her face. Michelle, however, looks as if she’s about to have her ass handed to her, and she undoubtedly is. “And Shelly. Still secretly pining for her Dudley—still carrying around that hard-on for Logan. Well, you’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you? You’ve got Liam Love ’Em and Leave ’Em Oliver diving down your panties night after night—munching you out after smoking one of those big, fat blunts gifted to him by Ellis. Tell him to shit or get off your lap. You’re not some tramp who’s going to please him until his dick makes up its mind.” She darts a look near the fire pit and scowls at Liam—we all do. That big, fat blunt revelation is a new one for me. I’ll have to make a note to talk to my favorite stoner about who he can and can’t distribute to. All Olivers are off the reefer list, and that especially includes Giselle.

“And you”—Chloe turns to Lexy—“you think you’re hot stuff with your business off the ground and running—Logan Oliver eating out of your hand.” Thank God she chose to avoid any disgusting euphemisms about Logan having the munchies for anything Lex might be stashing in her panties, namely her pink parts. “You’re too hopped up on how wonderful you are—you can’t even see he’s trying to avoid you! You don’t have his heart. He won’t gift you his body, and you will never be his anything.” Chloe turns her wrath my way, and poor Lex looks as if she’s been bitch-slapped. Okay, so I feel a tiny bit of satisfaction, but it’s less than a molecule in size. “And sweet little Messenger. Our angel of salvation, the chosen one to lead the Factions nowhere. Aren’t you a sight for no eyes. Whoever the hell appointed you for anything was drunk on their own power. The only thing you managed to save was your virginity for your wedding night, and for inquiring minds that was with Logan.” The crowd around me gasps, and it’s only then I note we have an audience that spans outside of the Bitch Squad, Laken, and Coop. Logan, Gage, Wes, Ellis, and Marshall, not to mention Liam—Paragon’s newly minted pothead, plus, Drake and Ethan. Here we go. Let the good times roll. I’ll let her say her peace, then walk her to the woods and banish her somewhere because I just so happen to wield the power to do it.

“Skyla”—her voice breaks, and it stuns me—“you did it. You bested me.” A visible lump rises in her throat, and she swallows it down. “You caught me off-guard and fed me to the lions—just like you said you wouldn’t. You know what they say, a covenant made is a covenant broken.” A dull laugh comes from her, and yet my heart plummets. But my God, I did not break our covenant. I’m fighting for it. Still am. “I have to hand it to you—you acted just like I would have.” Her eyes gloss over, and she looks dazed as if I had thumped her over the head with a spirit sword. “You tied a noose of lies around my neck and left me to hang. And here I am.” She takes a staggering step back. “The day your mother banished me, I had lost all hope.” The word hope sounds like nothing more than a pop. “And the day you pulled me free—made promises to me that night by the fire—I felt as though life’s red carpet had rolled out for me once again. I thought she came through for me. Skyla, my nemesis, wants something with me. I can be of use to her. We can rally together and save the fucking world.” She grunts as if the thought made her want to vomit. “And now here we are. You in the throes of celebration. The high time of your life. And me, far worse off than I was that night in the Transfer. At least then I could set foot on this planet without having to take the fall for bullshit you were responsible for to begin with. You got me!” she shouts those last words with her arms stretched wide, a wicked smile brewing on her lips. “You did it, Skyla. You outsmarted me at last!” She laughs, and her whole body convulses. “And you should celebrate. This is your day. Dear Skyla”—she purrs as she takes a step backward—“happy fucking birthday. Your gift will be a little late, but you’ll undoubtedly know it’s from me. Just know it wasn’t my idea entirely. After all, I’m not nearly as bright as you are.” She turns and glides through the murky evening fog, making a beeline for Demetri. Chloe wraps her arms around his neck and slaps him with a kiss, so long, so hard it makes my mother gasp sharp and loud. Chloe pushes him away with a shove and darts into the woods, and I do the only thing I can think of—I dart right after her.

“Chloe, wait!” I speed into the neck of the forest and scream her name until my throat rubs raw. “I want to help you! We are bound. We are one! Please! Let me help you. I’ll send you to the Transfer! You’ll be safe. I’ll keep you safe just the way I promised.” My voice tires from yelling as I come to rest upon the pale shoulder of a birch. “I’ll send you wherever you want to go.”

“Hey.” Gage comes up, breathless, and lands a warm hand over my shoulder. “It’s okay.” He wraps his arms around me, and the tears come. All of them are for Chloe Bishop. In a lot of ways, Chloe really is my dark twin, my shadowed reflection in a broken mirror. For as much as we’re different, we have that much in common. “Your mother just pulled out the cake. Let’s focus on the boys for now.” He pulls back and offers an anemic smile. “Let’s focus on you, too. Don’t let this ruin your special day. We’ll figure something out for Chloe after the dust settles tomorrow night. Her troubles aren’t going away anytime soon, but today and tomorrow are fleeting. Our boys only get one first birthday.” He gently lifts my chin. “And you only get one per year, too.”

“Thankfully.” I wipe my face clean and let the fog kiss my slicked cheeks as the two of us make our way back. Drake has his boom box going, and Ellis and Giselle are engaged in some sort of dance-off. Mom and Emma are bouncing the boys on their hips, and the mood is once again jovial.

Dr. Oliver steps up and garners the crowd’s attention.

“Before we sing, I just wanted to say how proud I am of Skyla and Gage for being the best parents little Nathan and Barron could ask for. You’ve both come so far—as people and a couple. I’m proud and honored to have the two of you raising my precious grandchildren. And to Nathan and Barron, may God give you the strength to live a life in search of His will, with a hungry heart full of love and integrity. I know you’ll both go far in this wonderful world. Happy birthday, boys. And happy birthday, Skyla and Gage.”

The crowd roars to life, and Mia leads us into a rather cantankerous version of “Happy Birthday”. And before we’re through, I pick up Barron, and Gage takes Nathan in his arms. We lead them to two blue candles and help blow them out. It’s a familiar scene, Gage and I blowing out candles simultaneously, but now it’s infinitely better. The two of us with our sweet baby boys, our own flesh and blood knit from our love. The four of us cheer and huddle as Gage wraps his strong arms around us. And I have never felt so whole, so complete, perfect, and so well-loved. Our little family is bliss. This is heaven. With all my heart, I wish Sage could have been here to celebrate with us.

That night, after an exhausting battle to feed and change the boys, we pack up any and everything we can into the minivan. I hug my mother, my sisters, Em, and Bree as Gage and I drive off to the Estates to our forever home that we renovated with love.

We pull into the driveway that Liam cobbled together with ivory-colored paver stones, and admire the landscaping Logan pitched in for—a line of pepper trees sway their soft feather-like branches as if waving us in. A row of gerbera daisies in every color brighten the world as the porch light shines down on them with a warm peachy glow. The boys are asleep in their seats, already in their PJs—thankfully, the nursery upstairs is well-equipped to greet them. And thanks to modern technology, Gage turned the heater on through an app on his phone before we ever left the Landon house so we will be warm as toast as soon as our feet walk through the door—that beautiful oversized red door that I love so much. The outside of the structure was completely redone. Gone are the haunted eyes, the dilapidated everything, and in its place a white, perfectly framed box with upper French doors and railings, and just above that a gorgeous round window gifting moonlight into the attic.

“Come on.” Gage taps me gently on the knee. “Just you and me.”

We head out, and I race him up the porch with a laugh caught in my throat.

“Oh no, you don’t.” He scoops me into his arms and opens the door. “Skyla”—Gage looks down into my eyes with a softness that only true love can bring—“I couldn’t let Logan outdo me.” He winces. “I had Lex come by this afternoon and paint something around the frame just for you.”

“You did!” I give his chest a light scratch as I look up and spy the elegant navy font that creates a banner over the doorframe.

“It says Always and forever, you will be mine. You have all of my heart. Our love is eternal.”

“Wow,” I marvel as a dull laugh aches in my chest. “Gage Oliver!” I sniff back tears, trying to stave them off for just one more moment. “I could not have said it better myself.” I reach up and wipe a tear from my husband’s eye and he smiles, those honeyed dimples digging in just for me. “You are my everything. Right now, always, and forever, you will be mine. You have all of my heart. Our love is eternal.” I pull him in, and his mouth crashes over mine with a kiss that is sweet and indulgent. Gage walks us over the threshold to our official new home, on this, the official first night we will spend in it together.

We work diligently getting the boys to their beds, the smell of the fresh new carpet enlivens the air in their room, and it energizes me. Gage and I speed to our new bedroom—a cavernous space with a bed the size of a swimming pool, a bathroom the size of our last bedroom, and a glorious walk-in closet that I will never have enough clothes to fill.

“There’s one more thing,” Gage says, reeling me in by the waist. That pained smile reprises itself on his face as he winces. “There’s also one other area I couldn’t let Logan top me—but, in my defense, it was my idea to begin with. Come on.” He grabs me by the hand, and I’m breathless as I follow him into the hall. Gage carefully pulls down a set of hideaway stairs that lead to the attic.

“You first.” He helps me up, and I climb into the waiting black hole. The small round window near the top lets in a hint of moonlight, but it’s not until I land inside do I note the glass has been covered with a curtain.

“Is this my escape hatch in the event the boys try to tie me up?”

“Nope.” He hops up beside me, and the lights blink on. “It’s your new butterfly room.”

A breath gets locked in my throat. A brilliant cobalt glow permeates the expansive space, and covering every last square inch of the walls are enormous bright blue butterflies.

“Oh my God.” I make my way to my feet and spin in a slow circle as I take in the ethereal scene. Butterflies as big as my hands flap their wings against the wall as they ever so slowly wake to life. One by one they pick up that strange glowing hue that I have only ever seen in Gage Oliver’s eyes. “They’re so beautiful.”

Gage appears beside me, his arms around my waist as we melt into a slow soft dance. “You are beautiful. Happy birthday, Skyla. To the first of many in our new home.”

My arms lock around his neck, and I can’t take my eyes off this gorgeous man that God saw fit to gift me. No, it wasn’t my mother. It wasn’t Demetri. Gage Oliver is truly a gift from the Master Himself.

Gage looks silently into my eyes, a heavy sigh escaping his chest, and in a burst of light the room explodes with hundreds of butterflies fluttering freely all around us. Sweet music plays in the background as Gage orchestrates a night to remember for the ages.

He blinks us back to our bedroom, the butterflies right along with us as they offer their glowing splendor in lieu of light.

“I think we’ve died and gone to heaven,” I whisper, pulling him onto the bed by his shirt and forcibly making him lie on top of me.

Gage hikes up on his elbows, those eyes of his brightening the room all on their own.

“We made it, Skyla.” His lips collapse to mine, and we share a heated kiss filled with promise that tastes like forever.

“The best part?” I say, stripping him clean of his clothes, and he struggles to do the same for me. “You and I get to do this night after glorious night.”

“That is the best part.” He steals a string of kisses down my neck. “You know what’s a close second? Not one sign of Tad Landon roaming the halls in his underwear.”

“Whatever you say, Greg.” I give a little wink, and we share a quiet laugh while getting down to the very serious business of us.

Those magical butterflies fill the room with a soft cobalt glow, enough to highlight the best parts of Gage Oliver’s body, which just so happens to be every single detail. And I make sure to lash every square inch of him with my tongue just as I promised myself I would—a birthday gift to myself. My lips make love to Gage thoroughly before my body ever has the chance. Gage and I bathe one another with our mouths, stroking, licking, memorizing our bodies as if this were the very first time. Our limbs entwine over one another as we indulge in the feast of the ages. Gage and I set fire to the sheets, and the walls erupt in flames as we pay homage to our love, as we partake in primal necessary worship. Gage pins my wrists to the bed, his body landing over mine with his chest bucking in and out in a fit of lust.

“You know how I feel right now?” His breath sears over my face like a scorching wind.

“Like you want to fuck me?” It takes all I have not to break out into a smile, but my stomach quivers with the laugh anyway.

He winces. Gage Oliver looks so damn gorgeous with every expression he makes, but that humble maneuver always manages to make my insides squeeze tight.

“That, too.” He dots my lips with a wet one. “I feel like my whole life, our lives have built up to this moment. I feel like a man, Skyla. Like I can take care of my wife and children the way I wish I could have from the beginning.”

“A man, huh?” I bite down over my lip as I reach down and give that rock-hard ass of his a squeeze. “Prove it.”

Gage growls as those dimples ignite over me. “I’m about to prove it to you all night long. Happy birthday, Skyla.”

“It’s midnight.” I pull his lips over mine and whisper, “Happy birthday, Gage Oliver. I love you so much. Here’s to forever.”

“Forever.” Gage plunges into my body as I wrap my legs around his back, and we get lost in making one another’s wishes come true.

And we make them come true more than once, just the way he promised.

I’ve made concessions before—hell, I’ve made more than my fair share of outright blunders. I’ve made big ones, too, but a part of me wonders if agreeing to let Demetri host part deux of the boys’ special day is the biggest mistake of them all. That unnatural disaster at his estate last December still haunts me. Although, given the fact Gage has since crossed over to the dark side—really, what else is there to lose?

Gage and I stare long and hard at the package my mother dropped off this afternoon. The only thing we were told was that the event would be formal. Gage is wearing his best suit, complete with a black bow tie. Marshall brought me a gown, which might as well be made of chainmail. It’s that heavy. It’s reminiscent of that haunted couture he loved to robe me in all those years ago, and here he’s brought me another. Of course, I had to ask what special properties this haunted couture would provide, and he assured me the only superpower it held was to showcase my beauty. This gown is strapless, easily accessible as he so cavalierly pointed out while ogling my boobs. But the dress is gorgeous, a full-length deep blue brocade with pewter undertones. It’s a sacred hue and sets off my husband’s eyes like a blue flame.

The boys look dapper, and a bit silly, in their matching miniature tuxedos. My mother said she looked high and low for these dashing little monkey suits and had to have them altered twice. And even though I smell Demetri’s credit card at the end of this gilded rainbow, I realize it was all done in love to please my mother first, then the boys. This entire extravagant night is an ode to Nathan and Barron, and that is something I can definitely get behind.

Gage pulls the lid off the gold box my mother instructed that we not open until we hit Demetri’s driveway. Nestled inside sit two gorgeous masks, a black satin covering for Gage, no larger than the circumference around his eyes, and an ornate rhinestone beauty for me that affords me a heavy almond shape, like a pair of sexy cat’s eyes.

“Masquerade!” I gasp as I dig in and pull the mask on. “What do you think?”

Gage moans as if he were ready to take a bite out of me and my thighs quiver, because last night, and well into this morning, Gage Oliver took bite after scrumptious bite of every last inch of me. “I don’t know who you are, but why don’t we hook up before my wife comes back?”

“Ha-ha”—I pull the mask down an inch—“I’m not laughing.”

“You should.” He places the mask over his face and kisses me softly. “It’s a good look on you.”

“The laugh or the mask?” I ask as we pick up the boys and the over bloated diaper bag.

“Both.” He bounces Barron over his hip. “You ready to rock this party, boys? I hear there are some hot chicks just waiting to check you out.”

Nathan gurgles out one of his signature husky laughs and claps up a storm, but Barron looks perturbed by the idea. Gage and I share a laugh of our own as we head on in.

Demetri’s monstrosity of a home is grand in nature all on its own, but on a night like tonight, where all the stops have been pulled, there’s something regal about it the likes of which Paragon have never seen before. I can hear the music pouring out from every orifice the overgrown house has to offer, and it’s merry and light, and my God, is that a full orchestra I hear?

A man in a white curly wig and odd revolutionary sort of garb nods as he opens the door and lets us inside. Something about him gives off that old-world appeal, and he looks straight out of the seventeenth century, and well, he just might be. The foyer opens up, cavernous and breathtaking, with its crystal chandelier the size of a mid-sized sedan glittering far more than usual. The lights are dimmed just enough to display the bodies milling in the distance, rife with laughter, but that’s not all that has my eyes set wide with surprise.

“Oh God, they’re here,” I hiss to Gage as an entire herd of vellum creatures—translucent once-upon-a-people—swirl about, laughing and chatting away a mile a minute in their full petticoats, the gentlemen in their rag tag suits, with their bow ties as thin as spaghetti. None of them seem to mind too much that we can see the walls right through their bodies as they float around like a slippery film, more of an idea than a human concept.

“Cool,” Gage says it flat. “Looks like Gramps pulled a few ghosts out of his closet.”

“Skeletons to follow.”

Gage leads us to the grand room, and a body blocks our path before we can enter.

“Ingram!” I can’t help but brighten at the sight of my favorite curator of Tenebrous—the only curator, but still. “Nice to see you out and about!” I offer an impromptu hug. He looks dapper himself with his hair slicked back, a neat tuxedo, and his face looks a touch less pasty out in this cobalt light. The entire grand room is bathed in blue.

“Excellent to see you, my love. And you”—he nods to Gage. “And, of course, the guests of honor.” He smiles at both boys in turn. “If you don’t mind, I’ll introduce you now.” Ingram turns to the sea of people, all in glittering gowns and black tuxes. You’d think this were prom and not the culmination of a year’s worth of easy living for the boys. He motions to someone near the back as the crowd parts down the never-ending room, and the volume on the music turns down a notch. “Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Gage Oliver. Master Nathan and Master Barron.”

The room erupts in cheers as a multitude of voices cry out at once.

Ingram lifts a hand. “Let the masquerade ball begin!” He leans in and motions to the diaper bag. “If I may.”

“Be my guest.” I’m quick to discard the twenty pounds of designer luggage.

The orchestra picks up again as Gage leads the boys and me through the neatly parted sea. About halfway through, the crowd collapses around us with my mother and Demetri quick to pluck the boys from our hands. My mother in her red dress with matching face garb and Demetri in a tux, his mask made of black scales—because he’s a snake like that.

My mother lowers her feathered mask a moment, and I can’t help but note she’s donned that Dominique Winters’ inspired mole once again over her left cheek. “Isn’t this fabulous?”

“It’s something, all right.”

Demetri widens his grin and nods in my direction. “This splendid celebration would have been impossible without the two of you, of course.”

Mom chortles herself straight into a Demetri-gasm over the quasi-inappropriate innuendo.

Mom holds out Nathan’s hand and begins dancing with him as her cleavage ripples out of her low-cut gown. “It’s beautiful, Demetri! How can we ever, ever repay you?”

Dear Lord, flaunt your boobs at him one more time and I’m sure he’ll think of a way.

You can practically hear his dark laughter over the music. “Try as you might, you’ve done so much for me already.” He gives a sly wink.

Yeah, like gifting him an illegitimate child. My mother’s gratitude knows no vaginal bounds.

Mom sneers into him with a rather flirtatious toothy grin, her red-hot mask only adding fuel to the lusty fire. “You do know me, don’t you? Rest assured, I will try my hardest!”

Rest assured I will be puking on Demetri’s limestone flooring if this drags on one more two-timing minute.

Tad waddles up with a blue glowing cocktail in his hand, his mask slung over his forehead as if he’s given up on both the party and on life—and oddly his mask bears a striking resemblance to donkey ears. Go figure.

“Jumping Jehoshaphat!” Tad whoops, and Gage slips his arm around my waist as if readying to protect me in the event he malfunctions. And, knowing how badly Demetri wants to bed my mother, Tad should very much be on the lookout for something far more nefarious than a simple malfunction. “Demeet—we’re five minutes of eleven, you and I.”

Gage and I grimace at the exact same time. I lean in and whisper, “Demeet?”

“Five minutes of eleven?” Gage shakes his head. “They’re not friends. They’re not even close.”

Demetri barks out a demonic laugh. “Yes, Thaddaeus Thorne Landon, my good dear fellow. We are all of that and more. And my, what a lovely bride you have. You must be quite smitten. How did you ever agree to let her out of your bedroom this evening?”

Gage rubs my back, his lips trying their hardest to hold back a smile. I can tell he enjoys Tad getting his comeuppance even if it is at the hands of his cruel father.

“A man’s gotta open the barn door sometime and let the old mare out into pasture.” He claps his hand over Mom’s shoulder in the event there was any confusion as to who the old mare in question was.

Tad flicks his thumbs under his jacket, revealing a pair of rainbow-striped suspenders. Figures. Tad’s superpower is dumbing down just about any outfit. I’m surprised my mother lets him out of the house.

Mom plasters a forced grin to her face and shakes her head at the offense while Nathan does his best to pick her nose. “He’s teasing. Tad worships the ground I walk on, let alone the things he does to me in the bedroom. We’ve quite the action-packed boudoir!”

Oh my living God. Is Lizbeth Landon trying to incite Demeet the dapper demon into an unholy jealous rage? And why the hell am I standing here listening to this salacious nonsense?

Tad balks at my mother’s claims before downing the rest of the electric blue concoction in his hand. “Too much action if you ask me!”

Holy hell!

Demetri’s mouth contours, and you can see his eyes turning twelve shades of boiling rage. Tad is going to miss that fire he walked into that brought him a year’s worth of misery once Demetri is through with him. I have a feeling this masquerade is about to turn murderous.

I glance to the mouth of the entry and note a dark shadow lingering, jettisoning out of my line of vision before I can adjust my eyes to light, and a mean shiver runs through me.

Tad makes an effort to extract the very last drop of his drink. “It’s all those rugrats she’s amassed, running around underfoot, slamming those caskets around the floor like they were castanets. A man can’t sleep in an environment like that. It’s not natural. Sometimes I wish I could unplug the old noggin just to get a solid eight.”

I’m sure Demetri can arrange for Tad’s noggin to remain unplugged for far longer than a solid eight. If I didn’t know better, I think I smell a coma on the horizon.

Gage gives my hand a squeeze. You think Tad is stepping in line for a dirt nap?

I glance up, and we share a quiet laugh. Normally, I love it that Gage and I are so in tune, but given the circumstances, I think we should be frightened for Thaddaeus Thorne Landon.

Demetri gleams under the blue pox he’s cast upon this place. “Lizbeth and the children are always welcome to stay here. Anything to provide respite for my dearest, most treasured friend.”

Mom gloms on quickly to the slumber party invite just as the Olivers head this way, Emma in her orange veil of a mask and Dr. O looking every bit the distinguished gentleman with his simple black mask. “Oh, I would love a staycation at Casa Edinger! I bet the beds are extra comfy.” She gives Demetri a slight poke in the ribs, and they share a private laugh because everyone but Tad knows they’ve tested out the mattress springs on more than one occasion.

“Good evening!” Demetri bows to both Emma and Barron, and false niceties are shared all around.

Barron gifts both Gage and me a hug while Emma offers only her son a hearty embrace.

“Skyla,” she says my name as if it were perfunctory.

“Emma.” I try not to sound sarcastic, but I can’t help it. Emma has mastered the art of turning even something as splendid as my boys’ very first birthday party into a crap-fest. Kate had it right. She is trouble with a capital T.

I give the crowd a quick sweep for my quiet blonde friend. She promised me she’d let me in on why Emma scares the resurrected daylights out of her just before she was whisked away to the great beyond once again. And I have a feeling that good time is ready to come to an end.

Demetri nods to Emma. “Tad and Lizbeth were just apprising us of their robust love life.”

Emma’s mouth falls open, and as much as I like the idea that something other than me has gotten under craw, I can’t bear another moment of the Lizbeth-Tad-Demetri porno playing out.

“I can’t watch anymore.” I pull Gage to the side just as the music picks up to fantastic orchestral heights.

Gage cranes his neck past my shoulder, his mouth set in stone as if something were pulling him out of the moment.

The crowd swirls around us, and soon enough I’m lost and separated from my gorgeous mask-bearing husband.

I turn to look for him in a panic, but it’s wall-to-wall bodies, and soon I’m pressed against an all too familiar rock-hard chest. He’s tall and achingly gorgeous even with that sleek silver mask covering the norther half of his comely features.

“Ms. Messenger.” He wraps an arm around my waist, the other leading me by the hand into a slow waltz.

“Marshall Dudley, you slay in a tuxedo. I think every ovary in the room just exploded in your honor.”

“Ah, if only it were reserved to this simple evening.” He pulls back a notch to inspect me. “My, my—you have a way with blue. It brings out the amorous affection you hold for me in your eyes.”

I bubble with laughter. “Forever the clown. You were one from the beginning you know.” Literally. But that’s another story.

Those crimson cauldrons of his narrow in on me. “Your mother is here to see you.”

“The one flirting shamelessly with Demetri while trying to hustle a room in this dungeon of depravity? Or the celestial thorn in my side that offered me a child and dissolved her to nothing more than a memory?”

Marshall wrinkles his forehead as if he were in pain. “My love. The latter. And do refrain from calling her anything but Your Grace upon your meeting. There is a season for all things, Skyla, and this is a season to humble yourself before the celestial great. She’s brought her cohorts along for the ride.”

“The entire Decision Council?” I give the room a quick once-over, but with those blue floodlights Demetri insists on pummeling us with and the sea of luxurious dresses whirling and twirling, the Transfer transplants partying like it was 1699—it’s sort of hard to determine who’s who.

“That’s right, Skyla.” His chest bucks with his next breath, and I can tell even Marshall is impressed as hell over this. “The crème de la crème of celestial society has descended on Paragon for the night.”

“Really? My God. This is bigger than the boys’ christening. Who knew a year in the life of two little earthlings was cause for such a celestial uproar?”

Marshall’s eyes flit to the exit. “There are others.” His tone drops down to its lower, far more threatening register, and every hormone in my body riots all at once.

“Others?” I make a face in the general direction of where Demetri and my mother argue over which bedroom they’ll copulate in next. “Yes, well, this is the demon’s dance. No poltergeist prom is worth its salt if the dark side isn’t represented. I’m sure it’s all for show. Demetri is eager to parade the boys around to just about anybody—and, well, the Fems and all their dark glory are just about anybody.”

Marshall growls, his gaze still fixed on the exit. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” His eyes narrow as if he were threatening somebody. “I’m sure whatever it is he’s doing here doesn’t concern death.”

“Who is he?” A chill runs up my spine because I’m not so sure I want to know.

“The Grim Reaper.” Marshall sheds a stunning grin my way as if the concept in general were laughable. “He and your father-in-law have always been thick as celestial thieves. You’re right. Not to worry. This is a night for grand displays, and Demetri is making the grandest of them all.”

“Grim Reaper?” I bite down so hard on my bottom lip I swear I taste blood. “God, what if the gift he’s about to give the boys is death!”

Marshall growls, “Open your mouth so I can bite your pretty little tongue off.” His cheek rises on one side, and I can practically smell the lewd intent. “Something tells me your boys will survive much more than just this night.”

Marshall dances us to the exit, then straight out of the grand room and down through the hall that leads to the back exit. We head outside, and the sight of Demetri’s park-like yard takes my breath away. A spray of stars hovers unnaturally low over the entire circumference of the party, offering a pale lavender glow. Rows and rows of trees adorn the outline of the festivities with ornate globes on them in shapes and colors I have never seen before. A man dressed in a white robe plucks a blue pear-shaped fruit off a branch and takes a bite right out of it.

“What is this?” I whisper as Marshall leads us down the stairs.

“It seems the heavenlies brought a little bit of home along for the ride. Creature comforts if you will.” He reaches up and plucks a red star-shaped bulb from a tree and hands it to me.

“So they brought the stars and their own farmers’ market. Interesting. That won’t arouse suspicion at all. Thank God those Spectators filled a much-needed paranormal void.”

“Did they?” Marshall frowns into the crowd. “Or did they simply whet their appetite for the many variety of beings they can imprison and torment.”

A horrible dark feeling clamps over me because I’ve never celebrated the fact the Spectators were taken. I hate what Wes had done to them, and now I hate what I’ve done to them.

A tall raven-haired girl in a silver gown comes up with her hair pulled back, her blue eyes outlined heavily in black kohl, and her lips set scarlet.

“Emerson Kragger.” I make a face as she lunges for me. She’s unmasked because, well, it’s obvious Emerson doesn’t play games.

“I can’t go back, Skyla. Your mom’s here, and she’s wigging out—herding us all together so she can give us the old heave ho, and you can’t let her take me. I don’t want to be a stupid owl, and for damn sure I don’t want to be dead. Can’t you just tell her to chill out?”

Giselle comes up breathless behind her, equally stunning, but that look of sheer panic on her face distracts momentarily from her beauty. Unlike her counterpart, Giselle is sporting a rather adorable pink feathered mask that sits neatly over her nose.

“Don’t you dare let her stay!” Giselle smacks Emerson until she takes a few steps back. “She’s after my Ellis. She’s been trying to stick her tongue down his pants ever since the day she arrived, and just now I caught her trying to kiss him!”

I groan at the thought of either scenario. “I think the euphemism you were going for is tongue down his throat. And Emerson? Really?” I turn to her in disappointment.

“What?” she growls. “Ellis is hot. Plus, he’s been my supplier for years. We sort of bonded over the many ways Chloe screwed us over. Him literally and me, well, she’s the reason I’m bound to featherdom to begin with. Where is the little slut?” She cuts a dead look around.

“Never mind,” I scold. “I can’t control who my mother plucks into the great beyond. Trust me, I’d have a couple more children if I could.” Just the thought of Sage and Angel rips my heart out all over again.

Marshall lands a warm hand over my back. “Perhaps you have not because you ask not. It seems the woman of the hour is upon us.” He nods straight ahead as my mother lights up the night like a firebrand. Her glowing hair, her luminescent face and body defuse the darkness in a soft halogen haze. She lifts the brilliant white mask from her face a moment as if to assure me of her presence.

Emerson grips me by the arm. “Don’t let her do it, Skyla.” Her speech is pressured. Her nails dig into my flesh. “Beg for my life. You won’t regret it. I promise!”

“Skyla, darling,” my mother trills as she opens her arms momentarily. I’ve heard of air kisses, but I think my mother just invented the air hug. “Such a grand delight. When Demetri invited the celestial gentry to the Bastard’s Ball, we did hesitate to come. But it’s all worked out for the greater good.”

“Excuse me? Did you say Bastard’s Ball?” I shake my head, incredulous. “I’ve put up with a lot of things, but having my children disrespected so greatly and on their birthday. No, I’m not having any of it.”

“Gage is the bastard.” She cups my cheek, and that beautiful strumming sensation streams right down to my toes. “Of course, you already knew that. You’re married to the—”

“I get it.” Wow, just when I had a smidge of respect for Demetri, he reminds me of why I hate him so. How dare he! And on Gage’s birthday! “So, I hear you’re taking the dead to their final resting places tonight.” I glint to the crowd in search of Kate. If she’s about to be snatched from reality, I need to be sure to solve that Emma mystery before she trots off and leaves me hanging with the anemic info I already know.

Emerson hits bone with those claws she’s molesting me with.

My mother glowers at Emerson a moment, and her grip relents. “Our precious Pierce and that Kate girl you killed are the only two I’ll be returning to paradise this evening.” I give a few rapid blinks at the thought of Pierce as precious.

“Technically, I landed them both there to begin with.” I give a little odd curtsey and immediately feel like an ass. “Anyway, Holden and Serena are excited to get their plume on—but Emerson here”—I make a face at the Kragger currently cutting off the blood supply to my left arm—“she sort of wants to stick around. I mean, I know that it would totally be putting you out and that—”

“Sure.” My mother claps her hands, and a pink fog surrounds them momentarily.

“Sure?” both Emerson and I balk in unison.

“Yes, I’ll simply take Giselle back with me tonight. We can’t have two Emerson Kraggers running around on the island forever.”

“No!” both Giselle and I scream in unison. I’d shout jinx! but this entire night is starting to feel like it’s exactly that, jinxed.

“Goodness, make up your mind.” My mother narrows her gaze my way. “Which is it you want?”

“Both.”

“Both.” She tosses Marshall a look that could slice his balls off before twitching into a sly smile. “I suppose I could grant you one wish on, this, the day after your own birthday.” Her teeth graze her bottom lip, and her eyes sparkle with a certain kind of venom. I’ve seen that look before on my own face, and she’s up to no good. “How about you either spare these two featherheads from the great beyond—or anyone else of your own choosing? Your girls are off-limits. So is anyone in a Treble. You’ll have until midnight to decide.”

“My father.” And just like that, I’ve thrown both of the featherheads next to me under the sarcophagus bus and into a squawking tizzy.

Candace offers a tired smile as if she feels pity for me, and she’s simultaneously had it with me at the same time. “He’s raising Sage, Skyla. He can’t be bothered.”

“Then I want these two.” I knew my father wouldn’t do it, and for exactly that reason, but hey, a girl has got to try. Although, I feel copious amounts of guilt over risking Giselle’s second life at the moment.

“Skyla.” Marshall comes shy of winking. “Perhaps you should tarry till the deadline.”

“No. I’m emphatic about it. Giselle and Emerson live. I’m thrilled with my decision.” Besides, I know my mother. This is just another mind game she threw in at the last second because she can’t seem to come right out and say yes to me.

“Yes to you,” she muses. “Emerson, behave.” She turns to Giselle. “And you. I did not return you from paradise only to have you turn your brain cells into a hallucinogenic playground. Be mindful of what you do. Actions bear consequences.”

“That they do.” Marshall looks to the woods with that angry suspicious gaze of his. I bet it’s the Grim Reaper slinking off in disappointment because he lost one of his prospects for the night.

My mother lifts a finger at someone in this sea of celestial socialites, and I stop her before she takes off. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I pull her to the side, away from prying ears. “I sort of had a brainstorm the other day. When you get around to doing that whole hocus-pocus thing, would you mind taking them to Raven’s Eye first? Maybe catch the attention of a guard or two before zapping Pierce and Kate off the planet? Oh, I know! Make sure Kate’s head rolls off first! Better yet, leave the bodies behind and let them evaporate slowly—that will totally set them on edge.” Brilliant, if I do say so myself.

“No.” She frowns in direct rebuttal to my enthusiasm. “It will lead them back to the Kraggers. Is that what you want? And haven’t the Winstons been through enough?”

“Totally.” I shake the thought out of my head. “But Holden and Serena could simply fly away.” Raven’s Eye and Host are just a stone’s throw if they wanted to stop off somewhere quasi-exotic for the night. That is if you consider a college town exotic. Face it, the only things exotic about Host are the sexually transmitted diseases it breeds.

She gives a slow blink as if my genius is trying her patience. “I’ll consider it.”

“Good. One more thing. That seventeenth-century tramp that’s haunting this island? Why don’t you spring her and her demonic mother back, too? Better yet, send them to Raven’s Eye! I mean, what’s the point of allowing them to breach contract with the ages and show up on Paragon after all these years?”

“What is the point, indeed?” She leans in. “That’s for you to figure out. What they believe they’re doing here is an entire other nefarious matter. Do keep tabs on those ninnies.” She takes up my hand and runs her finger over the blue stone that once belonged to the throne of God. “Keep an eye on this as well.” She reaches over and runs a finger along my bare neck. “Is the Eye of Refuse of no use to you, Skyla?” Her lips twitch like a threat. “Wear it in good health. You’ll need it.”

“I didn’t think it went with the dress.”

“Death lurks in the shadows, hungry for souls. Don’t feed the machine, Skyla.” She gives a little wink and laughs as if she very much planned on feeding the machine.

A familiar face pops up over her shoulder. “Is this a private party?”

“Daddy!” I lunge past her and latch onto him, taking in a full hearty embrace from the man I love with everything in me. I pull back and land my hands over his sturdy shoulders. He’s donned the requisite tux and his mask is flipped up over his forehead Tad Landon style, and that alone is about all Tad and my father will ever have in common—outside of my mother, of course, and I promise you that Tad doesn’t have half the affection my mother felt for my father. “Where’s Sage? Is she here?”

He cuts a quiet glance to my mother. “I’m afraid the powers that be decided it would be too much for you.”

“It wouldn’t. It would have been a pleasure—a treasure.” I wince at the thought of my daughter. “How is her…disposition? Does she seem okay to you?”

He grimaces because he knows exactly what the hell I’m talking about. “She’s mentoring under your mother.”

“I’ve a position I’m grooming her for in the League,” my mother snaps, and I don’t dare ask which league. It had better not be the Assholes League.

“Skyla!” she barks.

“Well, it better not be!” I bark right back.

My father shakes his head. “Don’t you worry. I have that baby girl of yours wrapped in my love. She’ll be a model citizen before you know it.”

“And my other baby girl? Angel?” I shake my head, unsure if he’s even met her.

“Yes”—his voice grows alarmingly quiet—“I know who you speak of, Skyla.” But that’s all he says about that, and my heart shatters at what that might mean.

“Daddy!” Mia screams as she trots on over in sky-high heels. Her little black dress looks more like a one-piece bathing suit than it does an evening gown appropriate for the Bastard’s Ball as it were. “Oh my God, I miss you!” She wraps her arms around him and swings him in a circle. “God, so many things have happened to me this year!” She holds out her left hand, only to display a scrappy piece of wire entwined around her ring finger. “Does this ring make me look engaged?”

“What?” both my father and I cry out at the same time.

Mia bares her fangs my way. “Oh, shut up, you. I’ve about had it with all your judgments about my love life.” She smacks my father a kiss on the cheek before darting into the woods. “Gotta run! I’m late for a date with my betrothed!”

“Wait!” I cry after her. “You can’t get married! I forbid it!” What the hell is she thinking? “And that ring doesn’t make you look engaged, Mia!” I scream after her. “It makes you look like you displaced the twist tie for the wheat bread!” And don’t even get me started on the fact the twist tie for the wheat bread is exactly what Drake saw fit to bejewel Brielle’s finger with once upon a poverty-stricken time.

My father groans at the void she left in her wake. “Promise me you’ll look after her extra hard during these teenage years. How I wish I could be there for her.”

“I wish you could be here for her as well—to snap the neck of whoever saw fit to gift her that miniature tourniquet.”

“Come, come”—my mother gathers my father into her arms and pulls him into the crowd—“we’ll seek you out later, my love. The time of the Bastard won’t last forever!”

“Geez.” I take a step back and practically land in Marshall’s arms. “I hate that Mia has lost her virginity and her mind. At least Emerson gets a reprieve.”

“Skyla.” He closes his eyes a moment. “You do realize it’s never as it seems with that woman.” A round of lightning flickers above. “Your Grace,” he says just past my shoulder.

I turn around and spot a white flame of hair running this way, Kate Winston—and I catch her in an embrace as tears buck from the both of us. Here it is, our final earthly farewell.

“Thank you for coming back,” I whisper into her ear. “I’m sorry I took you off the planet to begin with.”

“It was fate.” She pulls back and takes me in as if she’s memorizing my features, and she might be. I’m memorizing hers. “Here’s a letter. It tells you everything you want to know about you-know-who.” She hands me a thin blue envelope just as Pierce comes up behind her. Wow, Kate is so creeped out by Emma she won’t even use her name.

“It’s that time again.” Pierce slaps me five before pulling me into an embrace. “Thank you. My brother and Serena told me they should be back at your window later tonight.”

“You might want to tell them I moved.” I bite down on a smile. “It was nice having you back. I hope you enjoyed your stay.”

“Hell yes, I did. But heaven is best, and it happens to be where I belong.” He shoots me with his finger. “No Kragger jokes. You hear me?”

Kate and I share a little laugh.

“I suppose you’re proof we are all redeemable,” I say.

“That we are, Skyla.” He pulls me into another hug. “Try to remember that.”

I share another quick embrace with Kate and watch as they disappear into the woods. “It’s show time.” I wave the envelope at Marshall.

“Do tell.” He leans in as my fingers work quickly to open it, and we’re greeted with the happy, loopy swirls of Kate Winston’s handwriting.

Skyla,

Forgive me for the length of time it took me to pen this. Truthfully, I was afraid to share it sooner. There are things happening here on earth that have been whispered in the heavenlies—but more so they are whispered on earth as well, and that’s where I gleaned this information to begin with. Back in junior year, a few days before we took off to go on that fated ski trip, I went shopping with my mother. I headed off on my own in search of the perfect ski pants (to match my jacket!) and I saw Emma Oliver there speaking with another woman—one I didn’t recognize. What I’m about to tell you, I learned in partial that day at the store while accidentally listening in on a conversation I wish I never heard. The rest I gleaned in heaven. As I drew closer, Emma discovered me. I’ve known Emma all my life, but I had never seen the wickedness in her eyes like I did that day. Later on, I would find out she was one of the only people who secretly cheered my death. In her heart, she thinks that killing me was the only thing you did right.

What I heard Emma discuss that day was about Gage. This, Skyla, is how your husband came to be. Emma wanted to have power, to have control over not only her world, but the entire world. She knew Demetri was a powerful Fem. She sought him out and wanted to be with him for power, not love, but he outright rejected her. When she realized she couldn’t have him, she renewed her relationship with Barron, but not before leaving her mark. Demetri confided to her that he needed a child to meet his purposes, and Emma’s gift to Demetri was Gage. She wanted to be an instrument of benevolent importance. She wanted her child to be something special. Emma knew that she was putting the Factions in peril, but according to celestial rumors, they have never been important to her to begin with. There’s something else, something that she doesn’t want another soul on the planet to know. Emma believes that once her son is in power, she will be, too. However, she doesn’t realize what it’s going to take to get him there.

Anyway, that’s all I know. It must be strange hearing all this from me, a human through and through, but you’re my friend, Skyla. And that’s what friends do. They help one another out.

Emma is trouble. She always has been. She always will be. Her objective is to see Gage rise to be a great ruler. Her interest has always been in power—just not yours.

Love always,

Kate

“Wow.” I can hardly breathe, let alone take it all in. “Emma really is trouble.” Truthfully, I’ve known it deep down in my bones—but only after I got together with Gage. “It all makes sense now. She adored me when I was with Logan, but for whatever reason saw me as a threat once Gage and I got together.”

“A threat, indeed. You are inherently his enemy.”

“No, I’m just hers.”

“Nevertheless.” Marshall extends his elbow, and I’m quick to hook my arm through it. “It’s time to parade my bride past the royal gentry.”

“There’s no time like the present.” I slip Kate’s letter back into the envelope and shove the whole thing down the front of my dress until the parchment warms across my ribs. There’s no way I’d risk losing it—here of all places. For tonight, I’m going to do my best to set it and its contents out of my mind. I’m sure I’ll scrutinize it once again come morning.

Marshall takes us through a thick crowd of glorious beings, all too shining and beautiful to ever be real or human for that matter. We hit the end of the line and I spot Dominique Winters carousing with someone who looks suspiciously like Marlena, and I gasp once I see those familiar features.

“I completely forgot to mention that debacle with Chloe to my mother. I’m sure there’s something she can do.”

“She can, but I’m afraid she won’t. Or perhaps I should rephrase it. She already did.”

“You mean?” I suck in another lungful of Paragon prime fog. “My mother set Chloe up?”

His brows rise above his mask a moment. “Let’s just say that certain celestial beings may have colluded to procure a certain desired outcome—each for their own benefit.”

“Wow.” Just the thought makes me lightheaded. “Is it at all possible that the CIA discovered her on their own? I mean, she was everywhere at once, reporting all sorts of asinine things that just so happened to pan out.” Chloe is right. I put her in harm’s way without realizing it.

“I suppose anything is possible.”

“Speaking of possibilities—” Logan steps between us, breathless, with his teeth gleaming under the duress of starlight, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around me. He’s shockingly gorgeous with that bright white mask that gives off an ethereal vibe as if it weren’t made of anything more than an illuminated mist. “I believe we haven’t shared a single dance.” He edges Marshall out of the way. “Dudley.” He whisks me away from the wary Sector. “I was given strict orders by Candace Messenger to two-step with her beautiful daughter, and I would be remiss to disobey.”

A laugh trembles from my chest. “The last thing I would want is for you to be on Candace Messenger’s naughty list. You’re liable to have your head chopped off.”

He gives a subtle wink. “Chloe beat her to it.”

“That she did.” I cringe because I dread what I’m about to say next. “I really want to help Chloe.”

“I know.” He leans in and bumps his nose to mine. “That’s because you’re a sweet soul.”

“And I made a covenant with her.”

“And that.” He averts his eyes to the woods. “I’ll help you.”

“You will?” My spirit soars at the thought, and yet I can’t seem to digest the irony.

“Yes. I thought about the terms of your union with her, and I think it’s brilliant. Keep her to the hip, gain her trust, use the shit out of her.” His grip over me intensifies. “Above all, be careful. She’s dangerous.”

“And she’s pissed.”

“And she’s pissed.” He shakes his head. “But I don’t want to talk about Chloe anymore. You look amazing. As soon as you stepped into that room tonight, you took my breath away.” His voice strains as if he were aching. “I am jealous for you.”

My heart flops when he says it. “You are so special to me, Logan. You know I love you.” My voice is lost in the faintest whisper.

His lips rise at the tips. “And—I am so thrilled for you and Gage. You did it. You’re finally in your own home.”

“It only took a year of renovations.”

“It was the right time,” he adds. “Things always seem to happen when they’re supposed to.” His chest fills solid with his next breath. “And that leads me to our baby girl.”

I shake my head, my lips pressed white because I can’t do this.

“We have to.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “Skyla, we have to come to terms with the fact that those few months may be all we will ever have with her.” His lips turn down hard as if he’s fighting back tears of his own.

“I know.” My gaze fixates on the purple blooms dangling from a tree in the distance. “She was ours for a very short time. We may not even have eternity with her. She was a mind game, Logan. She was a very sophisticated form of manipulation that my mother heartlessly employed.” I glance skyward like a habit and wait for the thunder, but there is no celestial threat. “Maybe she will exist. Maybe she won’t. But my heart, my devotion, it all belongs to—”

Logan presses a finger over my lips and nods.

“So does mine, Skyla. I am in total agreement with you.”

He might be, but he couldn’t bear to hear my husband’s name.

“I get it.” The words come from me in a broken whisper. “Life just doesn’t relent, does it? The good book says we go from strength to strength until we end up before the throne of God, and yet it feels like fire to fire.”

“Fire to fire.” He gives a single nod. “You said it, Skyla.” He relaxes his body to mine. “Angel came into our life like a comet, sweeping in and stealing hearts. I’d like to do something to commemorate her. A plaque, a charity, a donation. Anything.”

“How about the bowling alley? It’s opening in a few weeks. The gym, too. Maybe we can dedicate the grounds to her?”

“Yes.” He plants a kiss right over my lips, and my stomach tenses at that soft familiar feel. How I’ve missed Logan’s kisses. “You are brilliant.” His cheeks twitch with what appears to be remorse. “Sorry about that. It’s sort of a reflex. Plus, I couldn’t resist.” He takes a deep breath. “Have I mentioned how gorgeous you are? Let’s find that oaf you’re married to before I get myself into any more trouble.”

“Deal.” I wrap my arm around him, and we make our way through the crowd. We finally come upon Gage speaking with Cooper by the fountain—fountain of youth knowing my nefarious father-in-law.

“Hey, handsome.” My arms float effortlessly to my beloved. “What’s going on?” I can’t help but note the two of them look deep in thought, both of their masks clutched in their hands.

Coop blows a breath toward the crowd. “I can’t find Laken. I guess I’m paranoid after what happened at Raven’s Eye.”

“Totally understandable, but she’s safe now,” I’m quick to comfort him. “The only reason they took her was because Angel’s powers were misfiring.” I still feel bad about that.

“Laken took the blame.” Coop loses his gaze deep in the forest. “They think it was Laken.”

“What?” A little detail my friend managed to keep from me. I turn to Gage in a panic. “What if they took her?”

Logan steps in. “She’s probably in the restroom or lost in the crowd busy looking for you.” He nods to Coop. “Let’s comb this place. I’ll help you find her.”

“Thanks, man.” Coop and Logan take off, and it’s just Gage Oliver and me under the spray of a thousand freshly manufactured stars.

“May I?” Gage holds out a hand, and I take him up on the offer.

“Of course. It would be my honor to dance with the birthday boy.”

The dimple in his left cheek depresses as he places the mask back on his face. “I hear I’m the official birthday bastard.”

“Ugh. Sorry.” I frown over at Demetri’s monstrous home as if it were the devil himself. “They’re wrong, though. You’re the birthday blessing. And you’ve been exactly that in my life—and the boys. You are a blessing to me, Gage Oliver, through and through.” I lay my head over my husband’s enormous chest and listen to the steady thumping of his golden heart, tried and true as our love, steadfast and everlasting. Gage and I had sailed an entire ocean of drama and trauma over the years we’ve known one another, and here we are, still standing, still fastened in one another’s arms. Our love is so present, so pure and true it hurts a little to ponder it. Demetri set a flaming sword in our path, and Gage and I traversed it with ease and grace. No matter what my mother, his father, might be plotting—Gage and I cannot be extracted from one another’s lives. We have the boys now, an eternal bond. We have a covenant between us and God—a triune pact, indestructible for as long as we have breath in our lungs. Our love burns bright and deep, a spiritual flame that can never be extinguished, not by the hand of any person on earth or in heaven, not by any force of nature, not by angels, not by dragons. Gage and I have woven our souls together, caged in our hearts, protecting them from the cruel duties outlined by a fate we never really believed in. There is no prophecy, no stone, no heavenly council that could sever our paths. We are moving in a single trajectory, riding the back of an arrow that is unstoppable from reaching the finish line. Our love shines in the light, it hangs steady in the shadows, it crests the highest mountain, sinks to the depths of the stormy seas. We are impenetrable to the forces of darkness, immovable to the transgressions of fate. Destiny may not have planned for us, but it can count on us for damn sure. Gage and I will never give up, never give in, never yield to the mighty hand of our adversaries. Destiny may say we are bronze at best, but our hearts know we are gold.

I pull back and look into those eyes that have captivated me from the beginning.

“Kiss me,” I whisper over his lips.

And he does just that. Gage Oliver kisses me with his entire being. He pours his soul sweetly into mine, and I drink him down like a sacred elixir. Gage and his love heal me.

I bring my hands to the face that I love and hold him like that, precious, anxious to have him, in admiration of the man he has become. Right here, in this celestial congregation, I worship him—the dragon, the dreamer, my beautiful husband.

With this kiss, we are ringing a bell. We are demanding that destiny and fate look in our direction and get used to what they see. We will right them. We will never bend to their will.

With this kiss, we are claiming our forever.