In an irony that only the universe can provide, the longer you go without sleep, the more life itself feels like a dream, an uncomfortable waking nightmare. That alone can explain why lying in bed next to me in this late February morning is Chloe Bishop instead of my beautiful husband who has been relegated to his childhood bed at his childhood home miles away from the boys and me. Yes, Gage is here almost all of the time. I would never deny him access to our precious babes, but our marital bed is simply for quick naps—not that I’m getting anything but that these days. The long, thick drag of the night, I spend alone. He has never fought me on that. Never challenged me. And a part of me believes that he enjoys taking a regular hit off the drug that sleep has become, and at the moment the only supplier is the Oliver house. But he stays late with the boys and me and comes back early—sometimes so early he’s only gone an hour as a symbol of our discord. Not this morning, though. This morning Gage is away. He texted—mentioned something to do with the morgue. He could be lying in it for all I know, I’m so dizzy with fatigue. And now that his classes at Host have started up once again, I suppose I’ll see even less of him. He suggested that I sign up again in the fall, and I plan to, but only so I can crawl into some unsuspecting coed’s dorm and fall into a sleep deprived coma just the way I fantasize.

Chloe kicks my foot with her own.

“Don’t touch me with your bare feet.” I groan. I loathe feet. The only feet I appreciate are those of the people I love, and even that list is extremely narrowed. Of course, I love the adorable, miniature feet of my children. I spend the livelong day meditating over them with kisses while the boys suckle off my breasts. I love my husband’s feet. God, I love every inch of my husband, and with that thought, a horrid grief envelops me.

The boys fuss and fidget, and slowly one by one turn a brutish electric shade of blue.

“No, no, no!” I chastise softly, and the ethereal hue dissipates on command. It’s an odd thing that they’ve been doing ever since they were tucked deep in my belly, but I’ve found with slight reprimanding they return to normal within minutes. God knows they can’t go through life the color of a blueberry.

My temples explode with a headache to end all headaches, and I can directly place the blame on my serious lack of shut-eye. I never knew how delicious sleep could be. How I would savor the memory of it. How I could be so jealous of my friends who bask in its glory each and every night on the regular. It’s true. I think of Laken, imagining what her thick, lazy nights must feel like, uninterrupted, so perfectly docile and happy in her dreams. Her limbs tangled with Cooper’s the way I used to with Gage once upon a childless time.

“I want to start having fun,” Chloe mewls as if this long-drawn-out, bored extraction she’s living is entirely my fault. She picks up my hand, begins twirling the ring she gifted me for Christmas between her fingers, and I swear I feel a sizzle of heat from her touch. Figures. Not even the throne of God wants any part of Chloe.

The brilliant blue stone winks at me as if it were gospel.

“Ask Wes to do something with you.” I give her arm a light shove. “Scoot over, would you? And why don’t you ever bring Tobie with you? The boys need to spend more time with their cousin.” Tobie is absolutely precious. She’s essentially the female version of the boys, and every time I look at her I think of Sage, the daughter I lost. Sage didn’t survive the pregnancy, but I think of her every single day. I think of how precious her feet, her entire miniature body would have been. What it would have felt like to be a mother to a daughter as well.

Chloe grunts at the thought of her husband. “Wesley can go jerk off. And, trust me, he does so on the regular. He only summons me when he wants a toothless blowjob.”

“A what?” I’m not quite sure why I asked, but fatigue, and well, Chloe herself are grinding my resolve to nothing.

“My vagina, you idiot.” She scoffs. “I hate the bastard. I couldn’t care less if either me or my vagina ever saw him again.”

“Wow, I knew things weren’t perfect between you two, but of all the people in the world, one would think that a Gage Oliver knockoff would have the best chance to capture your heart.”

Barron lets out a sharp cry at the mention of his father’s name, and my own heart breaks as I bring him to where he wants to be. His mouth roots for milk until I unbutton my nightshirt, and he happily finds it.

“What side does he sleep on?” Chloe hums while molesting the sheets as if they were Gage himself. Chloe has one singular thought ever on her mind, and that is my husband. If anyone can keep me laser-focused on Gage, it’s Chloe. As twisted as that sounds, it is the God’s honest truth.

“The side you’re on. Don’t get too excited. That’s just a technicality. His favorite side is on top of me.”

She shimmies her body over the sheets as if soaking him in, then frowns. “I hate that he’s with you, Skyla. Gage Oliver’s favorite place in the world should be on top of me.” Chloe expels an explosive sigh at the thought.

But I let her words run over my head like water. That’s not news to me or anyone else on the aforementioned planet. “So, what’s Wes got planned next? He has the world in a tizzy with those clowns. Nice touch, but logic only persists that he’s going to follow through with these empty terrors.”

“Oh, Skyla,” Chloe moans as she sits up and hugs her smooth brown legs. “Don’t you ever think ahead? He has this island crawling with G-men. Two of which he fed to those beasts your husband governs. Rumor has it, you had front row seats. It must have been quite the Spectator sport.” She gives a little wink at her play on words. The memory of Killian and Moser being eaten alive razes through me. I’ll never forget the way her eyes bulged to the point of launching at me like missiles. I tried to save her. I tried my damn hardest to free her from that hideous creature. That’s where Chloe has the story wrong. They weren’t Spectators per se. They were Videns. Wesley has created a monster of the Viden youth, quite literally.

The boys both squirm on cue, and Nathan begins to articulate what sounds like his vowels.

“Such a smart boy,” I coo as I give the swing he’s lying in a tiny kick with my foot. “I bet Tobie is ready to say her first word.” I bite down over my lip while I look to Chloe. “Wesley is going to die the first time she says daddy.”

“Don’t you wish.” Chloe rides a finger over her bare arm. She didn’t spend the night, but as soon as she popped into the room, she practically disrobed to nothing before crawling into bed next to me. And trust me, there was nothing even remotely sexual about that gesture. There simply isn’t a comfortable place to sit or stand in this crowded, little overheated hole. Chloe is the last person I want to be bedmates with, but we are just that, both literally and metaphorically at the moment.

“God, how I can’t wait for Wes to die,” she moans with delight. “I’ll celebrate that day each year. It’ll be the greatest holiday ever.” Leave it to Chloe to take my words at face value. “But Wesley’s death is miles away. It’s Gage we need to be concerned with. Demetri has plans for your man, Skyla, and it has nothing to do with pumping blood through that beating heart of his. If anything, that beating heart is an obstacle he’d very much like to extinguish. Gage’s life stands in the way of everything he wants to and will accomplish. Some people stop at nothing to make sure all of their dreams come true, and Demetri Edinger has always gotten what he wants.”

“He doesn’t have my mother.” It comes out quiet, catatonic, as I silently wonder if he does and if he’s had her all along.

“Please. Have you seen that kid of theirs? She’s got Demetri’s soulless eyes.”

“Watch it. That’s my little sister you’re talking about.” God, she’s right. I can’t even look at Misty anymore without seeing Demetri’s miniature face. It’s shocking to me the way she’s brazenly morphing into him. Soon enough even Tad will be forced to face the DNA, and this entire family will go to hell in a Fem-gifted handbasket.

“Demetri Edinger gets who and what he wants. If he wants Gage Oliver dead”—Chloe touches the tip of Barron’s foot, and he donkey kicks her until she withdraws her claw—“then dead is exactly what he’ll be.”

My heart ratchets up into my throat. “We have to do something.”

“We? Don’t look at me. I signed up for Faction detail.”

I glower at her a moment. “Liar, liar. I would love to set your pants and the rest of you on fire.” Chloe signed up for so much more. Chloe and I are both Celestra—thankfully, her host body was, too. Speaking of my favorite ax wielding mad scientist. “I think maybe we should pay Ezrina and Nev a visit.”

Her brows rise at the thought. “That old hag has been foaming at the mouth with revenge for years against the idiots who cost her freedom.”

“And killed her family. They thwarted her love with Heathcliff for centuries. Ezrina is the perfect weapon.”

“We are the perfect weapon, Skyla. Once you relegate the victory to someone else, you may as well give up. What we should really do is snuff our own husbands. I’ll kill Wesley, and you smother the last living breath out of Gage.” She scowls a moment as if she were sorry she didn’t assign that task to herself.

“And then what? Demetri finds a way to resurrect his sons, and we’re still in a shit position.”

“Demetri isn’t God, Skyla. Who holds the key to life? The Creator or Demetri? If Demetri had that power, don’t you think he would have resurrected the dead to haunt this world? What the hell is a zombie—or a Fem dressed as a ridiculous clown—when compared to a reanimated corpse? If he had that power, Dr. Oliver would have been out of business long ago. Demetri wouldn’t waste any time in bringing back the entire cemetery.”

“Ezrina can bring back the dead—Counts. And Dr. Oliver did bring you back.”

“You brought me back,” she says it so fast it feels like a slap in the face. And believe me, I want to slap my own face for the endeavor.

“My blood, Chloe, never me. I’m the one that put you in the ground to begin with, remember?” That was the only concerted effort I put into this fiasco.

“Yes, Skyla.” Chloe tosses her arms in the air with exasperation. “You killed me. You slaughtered me in the woods like a boss. You’re the greatest. I’m just a peon that lives in a dark cave in some physical plane that mankind has no clue about. I’m at your mercy. I’m the—”

“Oh, would you stop. Get it together or you can leave,” I hiss. Nathan shouts something that sounds like an agreement, and I can’t help but give a little smile. “Okay, we’ll both get it together, Chloe. Now that Nathan and Barron have finally gotten over their Emma plague, I can refocus on the task at hand. I think we need to roll into action.”

“About damn time. And I know just where to start.”

“Speak.” More often than not, I resort to Ezrina’s style of verbal brevity around Chloe. Just because we’re joined at the hip as of late doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“Maybe we should kill the Kraggers first?” She strums her fingertips over one another.

“That would be a great place to start. Killing the Kraggers is like delousing society. But I think I killed them all.”

Chloe straightens. “I killed Emerson.”

“Correction, Chloe, I killed Emerson by not stopping you.”

She blinks with dismay. “My, aren’t you the blonde martyr. What about Arson? Shall we kill him next?”

A smile pulls on my lips, but I refuse to give it. “I suppose we shall.” Leading Chloe by the nose is far easier than expected. “On second thought, killing Big Daddy K might lead to more problems than it would solve. We need solid ideas.”

“We need that witch of a mother of yours.” She glances at the ceiling. “Or are you more of a warlock, Candace? I’ve always suspected you’ve been hiding a pair of very large, hairy balls under that white toga you run around in.”

My eyes close involuntarily, and I groan. “Stop it, Chloe. My mother doesn’t respond to belittling. I should know. I tried it all through high school. In fact, my mother doesn’t respond to almost anything. She’s impossible to get ahold of unless she’s in the mood to play.” It’s true. But as of late, it does seem she’s been a bit easier to connect with. Having the boys—and, of course, Sage, has bonded us on a level I didn’t think was possible. Who knew it would be the children I’d have with Gage that would bring us closer? My mother may not be Gage Oliver’s biggest fan, but she does love his children.

“She’s not going to answer us. I’d take us to her if I could, but any extra powers these babies have gifted me are quickly fading.” I’ve had the ability to head to Ahava on my own, but with the boys and Chloe, I don’t think I can make the trip.

“She’ll respond, Skyla. You’re forgetting, I’m a lot like Demetri. When I want something or someone, I most certainly move heaven and hell, life and death, to get my way.” Her words sizzle around the room like eggs on a hot skillet. “Candace fucking Messenger, get down here right this minute! I’m in bed with your precious child, and I’m thinking about humping her for the hell of it. I’m within biting distance of those babes you hold dear but never near. And I’m about to touch one and lay claim to his soul,” Chloe moans as if she’s conducting a séance, and both boys fuss and kick.

“You’re such a circus, Chloe. Would you knock it off? In fact, I think you should go.”

But Chloe doesn’t leave. Instead, she gets on all fours, and her face contorts into a holy menace as she bears her teeth toward Barron.

“I am going to eat you!” she chides as I roll my eyes and kick her in the shin. “Then I’m going to eat your little brother, too!”

“Would you stop? There’s no way my mother is falling for that. She’s way too—”

An explosion of blinding light goes off in the closet, forcing us to close our eyes. A rumble of thunder growls around the room before the door slowly opens, revealing not only my mother in all her incandescent glory but a button-nosed little girl with her daddy’s dark hair, deep-welled dimples, and a smile that makes my heart melt.

“Sage!” I can’t contain my excitement. My heart bursts open with joy like a piñata as I extend my arms toward her. Sage didn’t make the duration of my pregnancy. I lost her early on, but my mother has taken her under her feathery wing. And since my mother wants nothing whatsoever to do with infants, she’s aged Sage to about the ripe old age of five. “Come to Mommy.” I don’t hesitate with the moniker. It feels natural.

“Mommy?” She tries it out on her perfect bow tie lips as she hops on over. She was so painfully shy the last time I saw her—still wrapping herself around my mother’s legs like a tree post. She looks up at Candace, the smile quelling on her face. “May I, Your Grace Candace?”

“Yes, you may.” My mother chortles. It seems Sage has even managed to bring my mother’s sour countenance a sprinkle of joy. And if anything, my mother does appreciate a good game of Mother May I. It seems to be our go-to shenanigan each time we’re together. Only in my case my mother repeatedly disallows my next move.

I wrap my arm around Sage and bury my face in her dark, glossy hair. She holds the scent of lemons and peppermint. Just holding her like this is heaven. I can’t bear to let go. Gage should be here. He needs to see what he’s lost, too. She’s so much like him in every way it breaks my heart all over.

“This is your brother, Barron.” I hold him out for her to see, and he dislodges from my nipple.

“And this is Nathan.” My mother scoops the baby out of the swing. “Skyla, why do you insist on keeping them in that dizzying contraption?”

“Because they insist on not sleeping. Can’t you cast a spell or something and make this happen? I’m knee-deep in delirium.”

“Skyla!” my mother barks. “I do not cast spells.” She coos into Nathan’s face as she holds him over her head, “No, Your Grace does not partake in such abominations.”

Sage touches the tip of Barron’s big toe, and he gives a husky giggle of delight.

“He’s laughing.” I marvel as his tiny dimples go off. It’s a bona fide Gage Oliver dimple explosion in the room, and the only living person I’m able to share this special moment with is Chloe. A thick sadness spreads over me at the thought. In the least I should have Logan here, but I’m currently still pissed at him as well.

Sage settles her eyes on the dark-haired demon to my left. “And who is this, Mommy?”

My heart warms when she says my name once again. “This is Chloe Bishop. She’s sort of a friend.” Dear God, did I just spout off a blatant lie to my own child? In all honesty, though, at the moment, Chloe and I have called an official truce. That whole friendship thing is true in effect.

“Chloe?” Her tiny dark brows furrow with worry before her entire face lights up. “Oh, yes! Uncle Logan has told me all about you!” Her mouth grows wide with surprise, but my heart tugs at the fact Uncle Logan has spent precious time with my little angel. I know which Logan she’s referring to, the one already on the other side of the great cosmic divide. The one that just so happened to land there right after Chloe chopped his head off. “You’re wicked!”

Chloe grunts and growls before a slim smile tugs at her lips. “Why, yes. Yes, I am wicked. Your Uncle Logan is correct.” She matches her fingertips together while perfectly impersonating a villain. “You may look like your daddy, but you are your mother’s child through and through—speaking before thinking. Actions, then consideration or lack thereof.” She smacks her lips with disdain at my precious little girl. “I wouldn’t get too close. I happen to think little children taste like candy, and my appetite is churning for a treat.”

“Chloe,” I bite her name out like a reprimand.

“Oh, Mommy, you’re so brave!” Sage leans in toward the wicked wart taking up precious real estate on my mattress. “She’s so close to you, and to the babies! I bet she really is going to eat them. Aren’t you?” Sage’s fascination with the nefarious witch only seems to grow.

“Yes, I am, little Sage Oliver.” Chloe’s dark, hollow eyes fixate on my precious baby girl. “I’m going to eat your mommy and your daddy, too!” Chloe wiggles her fingers at my beautiful princess, and I lift my foot to her until she relents.

“Behave.”

My mother belts out a bubbling laugh. “Oh, Skyla. Chloe doesn’t know the meaning of the word. But I’ll take care of the nuisance for you.” She heads over to the casement window and scrolls it open. “Where is that dingbat and his betrothed that I gifted you?”

“Holden,” I whisper like a secret to Sage, and she wrinkles her tiny little nose as if she’s already been apprised of who he is as well. I bet my father and Logan are having a ball with her in paradise. I would. And just like that, I’m terminally jealous of the fact my father and Logan are dead. Go figure.

“No! Not Holden, please.” Chloe gags and writhes, which can only mean my raven and his lady bird friend are quickly drawing near. Holden is essentially Chloe repellent, which is why I appreciate him so damn much. “I have to go.” Chloe claws against the walls as if she were about to fashion a brand new exit.

“What?” my mother balks. “And miss the party?” She gives another bubbling laugh. “But you’re my daughter’s closest confidant.” Her words are cutting, dripping with sarcasm. “You’re working together now, aren’t you? We were just about to strategize her next move. Aren’t you in the least bit curious what that might be? Please, do stay.”

A guttural groan evicts from Chloe’s throat. “Can’t breathe—so sick.” She holds a hand out to Sage who wisely backs away. Her tiny face fills with horror. Both Nathan and Barron pick up on the agitation in the room and begin to grunt and kick.

“Chloe, you’re scaring the kids. Mother, get rid of her.”

Chloe claws at my leg as if begging for mercy.

Skyla, help me. Her eyes bulge as though they were about to burst from her skull.

I glare at Chloe, doing my best to use my mental abilities to ship her back to the hell she came from, but it’s no use. Either my new powers have evaporated to nothing or my mother has a binding hedge over the girl who’s quickly turning green in my bed.

“Dear God! She’s going to puke!” I curl up in a ball toward Sage, trying my best to protect little Barron from the inevitable splatter.

“No puking on my watch.” My mother waves a finger over to Chloe. “Lips be sewn, nostrils for breathing.” She glares at Chloe as she writhes and gags.

Thankfully, she’s been incapacitated from streaming her bile all over my tiny room, but just watching her muscles jump, her limbs pop in the air every other second is a thing of holy terror that I’m not interested in witnessing—nor am I interested in scarring Sage for all eternity.

“Be gone, Chloe,” I growl while landing my hand over hers in an effort to will her the hell away from me. Chloe latches on with a death grip while I harden my gaze upon her, doing my best to send her back to the Transfer.

Holden and his pale plus one show up at the window. His paper white bride, Serena Kragger nee Taylor, a mid-century Deorsum who got on my mother’s bad side once upon a century ago, pecks her way over.

Chloe detaches from me with a violent jolt. Her entire body defies gravity as it rises into the air, levitating a moment before it flattens against the wall, spread eagle with her face wild with surprise.

“Good show, Your Grace!” Sage giggles and claps. And dear God, I now have every right to be alarmed at how much interaction my celestial mother has with my child. Sage may be formally deceased, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have her best interests at heart. “Make her spin!”

Chloe shakes her head wildly, moaning something inaudible and yet clearly a protest.

“No,” I’m quick to object to my daughter’s twisted wishes. “She’s hurting,” I say softly to Sage while getting lost in those epic blue eyes and I’m mesmerized. God, I miss her father just as much as I miss her. “We shouldn’t want to see people hurt.”

Gage is hurting. I’m hurting, too.

“Mother—I’ve put in a request.” Sage’s tiny features squint with confusion. “Your Grace”—she spits it out curt, her features hardening to a staunch look of irritation—“I said make her spin.” Sage never takes her eyes off me, and there’s something in them that lets me know I’ve disappointed her on some level—and pissed her the hell off, too.

My mother scoffs as she steps in close and pets Sage as if she were her favorite kitten. “My dear, I can’t deny you anything, now can I?” She solidifies a vengeful look to Chloe. “Spin, my little darling plaything. Spin like a top and fly far, far away.”

Chloe moves clockwise, slow at first then building with speed, ratcheting up with velocity until her hair, her elongated limbs are nothing but a blur. Chloe Bishop emits a horrible howl, the groaning of an injured animal, as she turns into a dark rainbow that looks almost hollow as if you can stick your hand right through her. Then slowly, painfully slowly, Chloe and the wheel of misfortune she’s become evaporates to nothing. As soon as the last molecule blinks out of the room, I hear the sound of her violent puking all the way from the Transfer.

“Nice show!” Sage jumps up while showering my mother with praise and joy.

“Not a nice show.” I’m careful to reprimand as I pull Sage over with my free hand. Her flesh is so butter soft I want to kiss it. “Come sit with me.” I hoist her up until she’s nestled on the bed. I’m half-tempted to text Gage and tell him to get the hell over here, but I’m all out of hands at the moment and a bit flustered from the show I’ve just witnessed. “It’s never a nice thing to make someone else feel bad.” I try to say it as lovingly as possible. The last thing on earth I want is for my mother to turn my sweet baby girl into an asshole.

“But, Mommy”—Sage’s eyes pull down as if she might cry—“Chloe is wicked. Your Grace says you must never trust the wicked. They don’t have pure intentions toward you. As soon as you turn around, they’ll have your head on the chopping block!”

“God, that’s so Chloe.” I close my eyes a moment.

“Your Grace?” Sage looks to my mother as if she were her universe. “What is an asshole?” Oh shit. Sage says asshole so slowly and purely it makes even that putrid word sound wholesome.

“Skyla!” my mother roars so loud both Holden and his bride enter into a flapping spree that sends black and white feathers floating to the ceiling. “You realize she can hear you when you’re touching. You do remember the rules of the game, don’t you?”

“I do now.” I shrink in horror at the thought. Of course, she can hear me. She’s my daughter. “She’s one of us. She’s a Celestra.” Tears come, and I can hardly blink them away. “My people are so heavily outnumbered, and she could have been here. Why did you take her, Mother?”

“Because she’s not the one.”

“The one?” It doesn’t take long for me to do the Logan Oliver math. “Then take away her powers. Give her back to me, fully human.”

“No!” Sage’s little face contours with horror as she leaps from the bed. “Oh, please, Your Grace, don’t listen to her. She’s demented! Her mind is all twisted up in knots because my bratty little brothers won’t give her a wink of sleep. Can’t you see? That’s why she’s cavorting with the wicked one! Oh, please, Your Grace, I’ll be anything but human. Make me a cat or a rat! But I can’t live without my powers!” She scowls over at me with venom in her beautiful little eyes, and I’m more than slightly alarmed.

My eyes widen with a slight horror of my own. “But, Sage, if you give them up, you’ll be able to live with your brothers.” Who are not even remotely close to bratty, unlike some people, I want to add but don’t. “You’ll grow up together. And think of all the fun you’ll have with Mommy—we can paint our nails and bake cookies! I’ll teach you the ins and outs of the Factions, and you can even head up the meetings one day.” I’m pleading through tears, both my voice and lips quivering.

“Your Grace,” her tone is tight and angry, “I bid you to take me away from this woman right this minute. She wants to steal my powers, and I’m frightened!”

“Not true.” I shake my head manically, trying to calm her down.

My mother frowns at the incessant plea, and truthfully, it’s my only relief in this panic Sage has incited in me. “I can’t leave yet. My business is unfinished.”

But Sage tries to bolt from the room anyway.

“No, Sage, don’t go.” I tighten my grip over her hand, but she wiggles free and makes her way to my mother. “Please, I won’t say that again. Just stay.” Barron lets out a sharp cry, and I rock him urgently, trying to get him to settle. I don’t think Sage can handle an ounce more of agitation.

“I’m leaving now, Skyla, and I won’t be back,” Sage seethes, those stormy eyes of hers as unknowable as the ocean. “Let this be a lesson to you. Never threaten me again.” Her voice spikes with anger before she turns to my mother. “If you’re unable to take me, I’ll leave on my own!”

“And travel through the heavens all by your lonesome?” Mother frowns at her mini me. “Angels have been deposed by wrestling with dark powers. I’d shudder to think what they might do to you, my love.”

What in the hell? Aren’t dead people supposed to be safe?

“Fine!” Sage’s anger surges as her face screws up into a tight knot of anger. “Have Grandpa pick me up. Or send Uncle Logan. They’ll both do anything for me!” Her tiny eyes squint with a newfound rage. “I’m leaving now, regardless of what you say—and neither of you can stop me.” She stomps her feet, and I shake my head in dismay at my mother because honestly? This is what happens when you let a child spend copious amounts of time with her.

My mother lifts a hand, and a powerful light bursts into the room. Standing beside her, fully formed, is my father and my open-mouthed surprise quickly transforms into a smile.

“Daddy!” I sob out his name, so very tired of everything in this world. I’m ready for his embrace. I thirst for it like water.

“Skyla.” He leans in and kisses both Barron and me before scooping Nathan from my mother’s arms. “I love you all. Don’t you ever forget that,” he says it directly into his namesake’s eyes.

“Put that thing down, Grandpa!” Sage commands. “You’re to take me home at once. I’m not welcome here.” She cuts me a lethal look with that last sentence. “That mean person wants to take away my powers, and she’s called me a very bad word.”

“Skyla?” My father looks befuddled as my mother extracts the baby from his arms.

“You may not speak with her!” Sage barks. “We’re leaving now.”

“I love you so much.” The words strangle from my throat as I look to my irate little daughter. My beautiful dark angel with those sapphire eyes and dimpled cheeks. I love her so much my bones ache right down to my miserable soul.

She jumps up into my father’s arms and gives his chest a hard shove. “I said now, Grandpa! Don’t you pay attention to her! You may not choose her over me.” And just like that, they’re reduced to a quivering shadow before the room clears up once again.

“Goodbye!” I shout into the nothingness they’ve left behind, and it feels as if they’ve taken my heart right along with them. “Never in a million years would I have wanted to upset her.” My chest heaves with a dry sob at the thought.

“Well, now—it didn’t take you a million years, did it?” Candace takes a seat at the edge of the bed with that I-knew-it smug look on her face—my face as it were.

“You’re raising her to be just like you.” I pin her with a look to alert her to the fact this is not necessarily a good thing—because everyone in the universe can attest to the fact it’s a piss-poor idea.

“Then I’m raising her right.” She indulges in a prideful smile. “I just love seeing that flame of independence flicker alive in her. You really should have named her Feisty.”

“Feisty?” It comes out with defeat because whether or not I gifted her that name—or cursed her with it, take your pick—it doesn’t make a difference. That’s exactly what she is. “You said she wasn’t the one. What makes you so sure I’m having a child with Logan? It’s Celestra’s spring. I’m yawning awake to my own rebellion. I promise you I can be just as feisty as the next girl.”

“Come now, you can’t manipulate me into handing her back.” She lays Nathan over my chest and sighs dreamily into him. “And as much as I admire the loving care and devotion you’ve given these two, I think it’s time to meet with the Factions. You have very serious business to take care of, my dear.”

“You’re right. I’ve yet to oversee the Factions or the Retribution League properly. And don’t even get me started on that government bullshit that Wesley is pulling. But I’m still nursing.” Nathan begins to root around my chest as he searches for food, and I give it to him. “Case in point.” He latches on, and I suck in a breath. That needle in the nipple sensation still gets me each time they get started.

“And you’re still able to speak with me. Case in point.” She forces a quick smile to come and go. “You can and will do both.”

“There isn’t any real business to conduct. Besides, the island is crawling with feds. I’m sure they have the Haver estate on lockdown. The government wants answers. They’re going door-to-door. There’s a rumor going around that they’re giving out cash and gift incentives. I hate the thought of being ratted out because someone desperately wanted a twenty-five-dollar gift card to the Burger Shack.”

“Would anyone you know do such a thing?” She’s egging me on. I can tell by the tone in her voice that she’s leading me down a fiery stepfather-ish path.

“Tad.”

“Only Tad?”

“Okay, fine. Half the island would sell me out for a free burger.” My chest bucks at the thought, and both boys bounce over me, inciting one of them to offer up a husky giggle.

“Then we need to stay ahead of the curve. You and your people will be ratted out as you so eloquently put it. What do you propose we do?”

“You have the solution mother. Spit it out.” I’m not in the mood for her head games. My heart is still aching from that bizarre quasi-argument I had with Sage.

“No, Skyla. If I recall, it is your springtime. Knowledge is your sharpest weapon. I suggest you arm yourself with it. You are the rebel. I suggest you put on your rebellious thinking cap.” She picks up my hand, and the stone on my throne ring electrifies a brilliant shade of cobalt—the exact representation of my husband’s eyes, and I sigh dreamily to myself for a moment. “Who are they going to bring in for questioning?”

“Forget questioning. That would be merciful compared to what they have planned for my people. They’ll cage us up if they feel we’re a big enough threat—and we are most definitely a big enough threat.”

“Cage those precious babes in your arms?” Her voice drips with concern, but there’s something unrelenting in her eyes I can’t quite determine. “Really, Skyla? Would a good mother like you ever let that happen?”

“Hell no—pardon my French. I’d offer up just about anyone else before I let them lay one finger on my children—on my people for that matter. But I’m not Wesley. I’m not about to ask which of my people are willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Besides, once they capture a single one of us, they’ll want every last Nephilim contained. There just isn’t an easy way out.”

“No, there isn’t, is there?” She bops Holden over his feathered head, and he lets out a screeching yelp.

“Mother.” I lift my foot with an empty threat. “You can’t be cruel to small animals. God forbid Sage ask you to make some poor creature spin until they vomit their guts up. That wasn’t appropriate by the way.” Not that I’m necessarily defending Chloe. No, some might argue she deserves far worse, but Sage should never want to see a person suffer.

“Sage isn’t here, Skyla. You are.” She bops poor, poor Holden over the head again, this time far more pronounced, and he hops the hell away from her. Can’t say I blame him.

“Wait a minute…” I scoot up a bit and draw the boys close to me. “You’re not intentionally being cruel to Holden.” I think on this for a minute. “You’re telling me something.” My gaze shifts from one bird to the next. “Holden and Serena. You think I should use these two as a diversion.” I can’t take my eyes off the fidgeting creatures. If I had to guess, I’d say they’ll be the next to vomit. “You think they can provide a solution. The feds are looking to put us in cages. Birds belong in cages…”

She gives a quick shake of the head. “Think harder, Skyla. Think outside of the cage. This is your springtime.” She doesn’t bother to hide her sarcasm anymore. I get it. I’ve inadvertently pissed her off with my promise not to listen to her advice.

“Well, if they’re not in a cage, they’re free and God knows the feds aren’t about to offer burger incentives to a flock of birds…they’d have to be”—dear God, she’s a genius—“human.”

She tips her head back a moment and glares down at me with those lucent blue eyes. “Are the feds interested in humans, Skyla? Dear heavens, not even your own daughter is interested in that.”

I place the boys back in their shared bassinet and head over to where Holden and Serena jump nervously from desk to desk.

“They can’t be human or Nephilim—unless…” I land my hand gently over Serena’s back. “They’ll have to be reverted back to their original Nephilim state.”

“And then what?”

“They’ll get arrested,” I flatline as the pure genius of it all hits home. “I really like where this is headed.” Holden lets out a riotous scream as if protesting the idea. “But I’m afraid Wesley has the feds believing there’s an entire infantry out there. I’m not sure the government would be satisfied with just two poor souls.” I thump Holden over the head myself.

“Too bad there’s not a way to give them more.” She picks up my hand and fondles the ring Chloe gave me.

“I guess there’s Emerson, but that could realistically only be the start. I’d need to resurrect half the cemetery to appease the government.” The cemetery… “The cemetery?” I look to my mother as the epiphany hits.

“The cemetery would provide a healthy supply of specialty forces.” She shakes her head as if this were both wonderful and unfortunate.

Of course, it’s unfortunate. Death isn’t exactly a sought-after attribute in this scenario. My mind flexes in a sea of possibilities—all of them ironically impossible at the moment.

“Specialty forces... This is a time of war. Just about all things are permissible during wartime.” I think on this a moment. “But if I could resurrect the dead, I’d want Sage brought back first.”

“I see where your daughter gets her demanding demeanor.” She scoffs and flicks her finger in the air just the way I do. It’s funny how you think something is your own—an inflection, a mannerism—then you see your parents do it, and you realize that not only are you a physical carbon copy, but your mannerisms, perhaps even your nefarious thought process is not truly your own. “No. The specialty forces will be subject to government testing, and I can’t have that done to my special little angel.”

Holden and Serena start in on a squawking spree and do their best to squeeze themselves right out the window.

“Oh no, you don’t.” I close that tiny air gap before they can squeeze through it. “Go ahead, Mother. Work that holy and right magic on the two of them.” I hold up a finger in thought. “Only—they can’t stay here. And what’s to stop them from running?”

“They’ll be bound.” She cups her palm over Serena’s back, and the delicate bird shudders. “They’ll also be willing.” She twists both birds around by the tail, jackknifing them until they face her. “Do you, Serena Taylor and Holden Kragger, accept the task of becoming human for a time to do a good work for the Celestra people?”

“Sounds like a wedding ceremony,” I whisper.

“It is a covenant.” My mother raises her brows. I’ve always marveled at her sharp hook-shaped brows. Honestly, they’re the stuff that Disney villains are made of.

My mother chuckles as Holden and Serena take a moment to coo between themselves. Really? What’s there to consider? Burgers or worms. It’s not a hard decision.

“What are you laughing at?” I nudge my mother in the arm.

“You. Admiring my Disney villain brows.” She arches one my way with all of the drama she can afford. “Have you looked in the mirror lately—oh Skyla the Springtime Villainess?”

“Right.” I glance back at my reflection, and sure enough, there she is, my very own villain staring back at me. “Never mind. The cemetery it is. When can we wake the dead? I’m sure the Olivers are going to love this. As in not. If I’ve ever given Emma a reason to hate me, I have a feeling digging up the graveyard that keeps her financial gravy train running is really going to piss her off.”

“I’m not concerned with Emma, and you shouldn’t be either. What you should concern yourself with is her son—your husband. You do realize the fact freezing him out isn’t going to make things better any time soon. It’s only going to cast a divide amongst you.”

“Are you aware of what he’s done?”

“Yes. And are you aware of the fact that marriages are built on compromises?”

“A compromise of this magnitude does not a happy marriage make. It makes life a living hell.” Perhaps quite literally.

Holden and Serena’s squawking hits an all-time high and both my mother and I hiss at them to keep it down. The boys are happily cooing away, and I’d like to keep it that way.

“Happy marriage?” My mother looks stumped by the concept. “Skyla, there hasn’t been one of those in all of human history. Every union bears its strife. If anything, an unhappy marriage is a common lot in life. Show me a couple who espouses a happy façade and I will show you a couple of bald-faced liars.”

“Oh, come on. Gage and I were plenty happy before things went to shit. Pardon my French once again.” My mother loathes my salty sailor talk just as much as Marshall seems to.

Her hair glows a bright iridescent pink before defusing as if the expletive had the power to initiate a celestial riot in her.

“Were you happy?” She gives a few rapid blinks my way as if I were trying her patience, and I have no doubt I am. “Or were you striving to be so? When have you had a moment’s peace, Skyla?”

“Before Dad died.” I didn’t even have to think about that one. “Ever since I set foot on Paragon—not to get literary on you, but it’s been the best of times and the worst of times.”

“That’s the burden of life, my love. Everyone has their cross to bear. It just so happens that yours consists of the wings of a thousand Nephilim. Do rectify things with Gage. It hurts the Father to see such strife. He is a proponent of maintaining earthly covenants.” A wicked grin curves her lips. “But try as you might, that matrimonial good time isn’t allowed anywhere near the afterlife. Resurrection will be bliss, I tell you. Not a single leash to bind you.” She gives a wistful shake of the head. “As for upturning the cemetery, don’t worry about ruffling Emma’s celestial feathers. And as for your husband, I may be advocating your reunion, but I am far from pleased with him.”

“Was this—wasn’t this—um—could this have been—” No matter how hard I try, I can’t formulate the words to ask the question. Most likely because I hate the question.

“Was it his destiny?” Her brows arch clear up to her forehead, an Olympian-worthy feat if you ask me.

A slow nod is all I can offer.

“Skyla.” She closes her eyes as she draws me close. I cannot remember too many times that my mother has held me this way, at least not post those three months on earth where she was my primary caretaker, and I recall nothing of those. But this moment, her warmth, that vibration she exudes, which is something far sweeter than what Marshall is capable of, I could sleep well in my mother’s arms. “Destiny is a finicky thing. It’s only as stable as the obedience of its recipient.”

“Obedience.” My personal rebellion comes to mind. “I’m veering from fate.” I pull back to get a better look at what amounts to my reflection. “Gage can veer, too.”

Holden and Serena squawk up a storm before she can answer.

“It’s that time.” She smacks them both over the head in turn. “Feathers to feathers, no sins to atone—rise to your feet in flesh and in bone.”

A billowing fog permeates the room, bitter and blue that dissipates as quick as it came, and in its place, is a fully formed Holden and Serena.

A heavy breath escapes me as Holden and Serena marvel at their fleshly appendages. He looks every bit as lanky, and mind you Kraggery, with that squared jaw, that dirty blond hair, and those mean-spirited eyes—although, at the moment those eyes look pleasantly impressed with his new form. And Serena looks every bit the Nordic goddess her pale feathers would have you believe she was. She’s a beautiful sight to behold. I just hope she’s still enamored with the cranky Kragger next to her.

“You did it!” I pant as the boys begin to cry. I pick up Nathan, and my mother takes Barron.

“Of course, I did it.”

“Thank you, Candace.” Holden falls to his knees. He looks every bit as familiar as the day he was banished into Nevermore’s form. “I beg of you to free my sister, if only for a time.”

“Only for a time is correct.” She sneers toward Mia and Melissa’s room. “She’s willing.” She lifts a finger, and the faint sound of my sisters’ screaming permeates through the wall.

“Emerson’s here?” I clutch onto Nathan a little tighter. “Good God! This had better end well.”

“It does end.” My mother hands off Barron to Serena.

A horrible thought comes to mind. “What about Giselle? My God, Emma is going to kill me if she discovers I’ve traded her precious daughter in for a Kragger.” I glance to Holden. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he offers a cheesy wink.

My mother balks at the idea. “I’ve a temporal home for Emerson. She’s merely a visitor. Precious Giselle is alive and well.”

Thank goodness. Not that I really fear Emma—but G truly is precious and I’d hate to blink her out of existence on a whim.

“Now”—my mother clasps her hands while looking to Holden and Serena—“once you’re taken captive by those nasty federal agents, I’ll look into a reversal of your newfound fortune. The three of you are bound to this mission. Enjoy each and every breath through human nostrils while it lasts—it won’t last. And, Skyla, take care of that husband situation.” She addresses my marriage as if it were an oil spill, and she wants me to take care of it? “And mind, Ezrina.” She expels a heavy sigh. “For goodness’ sake, the entire lot of you belongs on leashes.” And just like that, she’s gone.

“Wait! How do I go about resurrecting the dead?”

Holden stands and narrows that familiar sinister gaze my way. “Now what, Messenger?”

“Now what, indeed.”

Marshall isn’t at home, and, per his usual secretive Sector ways, he isn’t answering his texts. He thinks technology is cute and more of a pest than a reliable source of communication. But, thankfully, Ezrina and Nev don’t feel the same. When I ask Nevermore about Marshall’s whereabouts, not only is the wily Sector at the Gas Lab but so is Ezrina—another hard-to-find extraordinary creature. Technically, she’s Nephilim, always has been, but since she’s taking up occupancy in Chloe’s old body, creature sounds about right.

So off to the Gas Lab I go with my newfound trio of friends. There’s Emerson—the OG version, which looks more like she can be Giselle’s sister than she can twin. I keep forgetting my mother added the dimples, and Giselle’s bright and cheery affect really does do wonders for a face. But I digress. Not only is a sulking Emerson with me—for God’s sake you’d think she’d be thrilled to be rid of the feathers, but Holden—he’s both seemingly cheery and nice! In his case the feathers really did him a world of good. I’m finally ready to put that whole quasi-sexual assault behind us. And lest not we forget the stunningly beautiful Serena—blonde hair, blue-eyed, pale as winter snow—okay, we’re talking deathly pale on a scary level, but in her dermal defense, she has been stark white raven mad for the last few hundred years. Okay, so it wasn’t that funny. But in addition to that motley crew, I’ve also dragged my precious babies out of the house for this little celestial field trip. The same baby boys who suffered unconscionably for a month, no thanks to Emma and her allergies. Damn lies I tell you, and that woman can spew them. Allergy alibi, my ass.

I pause a moment and take a rather benign head count of the Kraggers in their newly issued bodies with those old familiar faces, sans Serena, of course, who is so stunning I’m half-afraid someone will haul her off this oversized rock and offer her a modeling contract before she explodes right back into a ball of feathers.

“Stick close to me.” I search my mind as to what I can possibly do with these former plumes, considering the fact I’ll soon have an entire army of graveyard soldiers at my disposal. “You know, unless something changes, I want the three of you to enjoy your stay on Paragon.”

Holden shoots up a brow.

“I mean it,” I’m quick to make it clear. “I kind of feel bad about that whole feathered nightmare. And, honestly, you’ll only be here for a few minutes in the grand scheme of things. Go ahead and have some fun. On me.” I give a crooked smile. The truth is, I don’t want to utilize a single Kragger unless I absolutely have to. The only thing I can rely on them to do is rattle off my secrets to Big Daddy K, and I’m pretty sure no matter how well I threaten them not to, the big blab session is inevitable.

We head into the Gas Lab like the unruly mob we are, me with a double stroller that Holden actually helped figure out how to get into a locked position—total gentleman! Serena can’t stop cooing over the boys. And really? Who can blame her? My mini Gages are basically a hit with women wherever we go. Wait until she sees the real deal. Just because Gage and I are on the outs doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate his seismic beauty. And obviously and thankfully, when God made him, he didn’t break the mold. He elected to use it at least two more times with our precious boys.

I spot the sexy Sector near the back, staring into his laptop as if he were just another human sipping the java and checking out cat porn. God, cat porn had better be the only lewd content that extraterrestrial being scopes out on the Internet. I stroll on over, and just as I’m about to do the resurrected intros, I see the crew I was leading has already gone astray.

“Gah! Marshall, watch the boys for a minute.” I practically dive back to the front where Holden is carrying on a conversation with Nevermore.

“He’s not Pierce!” I shout so loud half the customers turn to gawk my way. His nametag might read Pierce, but he’s Nevermore, Heathcliff O’Hare through and through.

Holden sheds a rather relaxed smile. I’m still far from used to this subdued version of the Kragger in question. “I realize that, Skyla. I was just introducing myself and my wife. It’s pretty cool that even though Pierce is gone he sort of lives on. Don’t get me wrong. I’d rather be a bird than dead.”

Serena giggles at the thought. “I’m sure dead is great, too. But Holden and I sort of consider the feathered life a liberating one. And after seeing the price of a cup of coffee, I’m happier than ever before to roam the earth freely.”

“Nice.” I think. Honestly, dead probably trumps feathers, but then, she and Holden did have hatchlings last spring. Feathered sex must be amazing. I look to Nev. “Where’s Ezrina?”

Nev glances back to the kitchen. “It appears she’s entertaining a guest. Here she comes now.”

Ezrina and Emerson emerge from the back. Double gah!

Holy shit. I’m going to go gray or bald trying to keep track of Kraggers 2.0.

“Emerson, this isn’t really—”

“I got it. She’s not Chloe.” She grunts, looking out at the place. “Who I really want to see is my dad.”

“No!” I shout so loud I hear Barron choke with a cry. It’s funny how distinctly different their cries are. I’m so thrilled I can finally tell them apart to the point I’m no longer paranoid I’ll mix them up for good and each will grow up as the other. “Your dad thinks—”

“I know.” She’s quick to wave me off. “My dad loves me, Skyla. Haven’t you ever missed anyone so bad that you need to see them no matter what?”

Deep down, I knew this was a bad idea. “Once your father gets wind of what you’re doing and for who, it will kill the purpose of the operation.” Would it, though? How could the Counts possibly stop me?

Ezrina and Nev exchange a glance.

“I won’t tell.” She shrugs as if it’s as easy as that. “Come on, Holden. We’ll walk over.”

“It’s six miles from here,” he balks at the ambulatory idea.

“You haven’t used your legs in years.” She’s quick to point out. “You should be glad you have them.”

Holden frowns as he looks to me. “What say you, Messenger?”

For one, I’m floored that Holden is actually somewhat tame and obedient. I mull over the catastrophic possibilities—like for instance Wesley piecing together the brilliance of this plan and putting a stop to it. Not to mention the dilemma of the two Emersons. But I can only hope this provides a way to keep Arson on a leash.

“I say you can visit.” A smile blinks on and off from my lips. “But if your father wants details—swear him to secrecy because if Wesley hears of this, and believe me, I will be appraised of this—it’s back to the feathered pound for the three of you.” It will be regardless. A thought comes to me. “And keep it brief. I’m not sure I want you living with Daddy Dearest. I’ll try to find someplace for you to stay.” I glance to Nev, knowing full well they’ll be shacking up in Arson’s mega hovel in less than five minutes. “Would you mind giving Holden your phone?” Nev is quick to comply. “I’ll text you in a few hours. You’ll be residents elsewhere for the duration of your stay. Remember—you don’t spill a single secret.”

“No worries, Messenger.” Holden shakes my hand, and the three of them are quick to begin their journey.

Nev steps in front of me, his eyes dark and menacing. “What are they doing in the flesh, and why have you practically sent them into enemy territory?”

“They’re here to take one for the team so to speak. The government wants bodies, and we’re about to give them just that.”

His eyes enlarge. “But how did you do this?” Nev was a bird for so long I’m sure he tried a thousand ways till Sunday to free himself of the feathered binding.

“My mother.”

“Skyla.” Ezrina closes her eyes. “The Kraggers will sideline everything. And Arson? He is the worst of them all.”

Nev gives a solemn nod. “You’re about to see your plan unravel before the dead get to pay their dues.” It’s clear Holden has already spilled the resurrected beans.

“That may be.” A sly smile plays on my lips as I watch the fog absorb the three of them from the window. “But, trust me, I’ve got this. There is no way this is backfiring. It’s a done deal no matter how hard Arson or Wesley tries to foil this endeavor. Besides—the three of them? That’s just the tip of the Paragon cemetery iceberg. Maybe it’s time Wes and his deconstruction crew were in on my plan for a change—one in which they are impotent to do anything about.” How’s that for a role reversal?

The boys begin to make their verbal presence known, and Marshall calls my name as if his voice box had magically transformed into a megaphone.

“The babes!” Ezrina makes a beeline for the back, and Nev and I join her. Before I can inquire about anything that might help solve the mystery surrounding my hatchet-wielding friend, she lifts Barron into Nevermore’s arms and takes Nathan for herself. The boys coo and gaze up at the new friendly faces, their eyes mesmerized, tiny giggles breaking out at random.

“They’re laughing.” It fills me with joy to have two tiny dimpled bundles who love to chat and smile. It’s a simple world I’ve quickly gotten used to. Yes, there is no sleep in this world, but I’ve discovered that with every good thing there is a little hell to pay. And sadly, that perfectly describes my marriage to Gage.

Ezrina and Nev step away while rocking and amusing the boys with silly faces and sounds.

“Skyla.” Marshall glowers over at me as if I’ve wrung out a dirty diaper in his coffee.

“Oh, stop. You know I had to do something. Besides, it was my insane mother who—” The entire building trembles with thunder. “Okay, so it was my idea, but she totally egged me on until I came up with every last dead and dirty detail. But trust me, it’s a good thing. The government needs bodies. Supernatural bodies,” I whisper so low it’s hardly audible, but I’d swear on my life ten people just turned around to gawk. “And my boys will never play the part of guinea pig as long as I have breath in my body.”

He grunts as he looks up at the angelic beings. “And your stepfather is looking forward to this, I imagine? Three guests? I suppose you’ll cram them in your bedroom as well.” He takes a sip of his coffee with the satisfied self-righteous grin blooming on his face.

“Heavens no.” I shake my head as I slip into the seat across from him. “There will be far more than three.” I reach over and pick up his hand in an effort to appeal to the most primal part of him, and that vibrating goodness strums through my bones, appealing to the most primal part of me. “There will be many—there will be legions. And I’ll need them all to stay with you.”

“No,” he says it so fast, without a hint of hesitation, it fills me with an indignant rage.

“What do you mean, no? What am I going to do with all of these reanimated corpses?” Hopefully, there will be hundreds, thousands even.

“I mean no, Skyla. Find somewhere else to play your graveyard games. My estate is off-limits.”

“But you love to entertain the dead. Think of Marlena and her call girl friends. How is this any different?” Marshall seems to host a hoedown whoredown just about every other day with those seventeenth-century hussies.

“It just is.”

He pulls his laptop forward and begins nonchalantly inputting something.

“What are you doing?” I try to peer over at the screen, but he inches it away.

“Calculating how long it will take you to figure out what to do with the dead.”

“No, you’re not.” I lean in farther. It’s a list of some sort.

“Fine.” He snaps the laptop closed just inches from clipping my nose. “Your mother and I are planning an extravagant first birthday party for the little goats.”

“The little goats? Marshall, they’re not even three months old!”

“Your mother—”

“Never mind. I know my mother.” A moment bounces by where it’s just Marshall and me, this heavenly handsome as all hell being with those cutting maroon eyes and a sly smile that screams the better to eat you with. Marshall was there for the birth of the boys, and now he’s planning their first birthday party. For some reason, the fact he was embroiled in the event that involves the two pieces of my heart floating around on the planet makes him vexingly sexy on a dangerous level. “So”—I clear my throat—“can I use your home? Just one room. Trust me, they’re used to tight confined spaces. A whole room will feel like the Taj.”

“You have a home, Skyla. House them there.”

“The Landon estate?” A laugh gets caught in my throat. “If I do that, you can add Tad to the number of corpses.”

Marshall frowns and nods west.

Wait—what’s west? West, west? As in West Paragon High? No, they have enough zombified bodies wandering around campus. The only thing past that is the estates where—

I suck in a quick breath. “The old Walsh home?”

He forces his lips to curl in a nefarious grin. “I believe it is the new Oliver home. Yes, Skyla. You yourself have referred to the hovel as a haunted house. And now you can have all the ghosts you wish to fill it.”

“Very funny.” The old Walsh home, my home, is a death trap at the moment. I’m pretty sure it’s not safe to house corpses in—resurrected or not.

I think on this for a minute. God, what do I say? I’ve never needed Marshall’s full support on this level before. That horrid surprise spirit wedding that took place years ago crosses my mind.

“Lest I remind you that I let you marry me.” I blink up at him in a weak attempt to seduce him toward my line of thinking.

He glances up, almost bored with the fact—not the slightest bemusement on his part. It wasn’t so much that I let him marry me than the fact I was sort of ambushed and it happened to me.

“Okay, so I didn’t really let you marry me, but I totally would have if I had my better judgment about me. Good thing you stepped in when you did. Shall we have Demetri throw us a vow renewal in the Transfer? There’s nothing like a bunch of disembodied spirits to make it feel official.” I should know. I did the very same thing last September with Gage.

He folds his arms, his affect unflinching. “A party for the ages—at the devil’s house no less. My, Skyla, you do dream big, don’t you?”

“I dream of you.” It comes out wistful and for good reason. Marshall has been haunting my dreams—or more accurately, my subconscious has been haunting my dreams with Marshall. And, mind you, these are not your average nocturnal wanderings. These are sultry, erotic, panty-melting, grip-the-sheets sex-rated dreams. Nothing at all the stuff that should be filling the head of a very married woman. But, honest to God, there’s no getting off this sexual merry-go-round. The more I try to fight them, the harder—pun intended—they seem to come.

My lips purse for a moment as I reflect on Gage and how hurtful it must be knowing this goes on each and every night. He figured it out a long time ago and has never held it against me. If Gage were having nonstop porn dreams about Kresley, I would have hung him by his oversized balls by now.

“My”—a dark laugh strums from Marshall—“that took you away to a special place.”

A light tap falls on my shoulder, and I look up to find Laken hovering above me. “Speaking of special places. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Laken!” I jump up and give her a strong hug. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you. And my God! Look how big these boys are! It’s only been a few weeks since we saw you at the bowling alley and they’ve already doubled in size.” She holds her arms out as Nev hands Barron over.

“What’s up?” Cooper comes from behind. “You ready for another Retribution League sit-down?”

“You read my mind. I’ll schedule it soon. You won’t believe the ace that just crawled up our sleeve.”

Laken and Coop exchange a quick look.

“Don’t worry. This is going to be brilliant.” Nathan starts to fuss and I try to take him from Ezrina, but she spins on her heels.

“Mine.” She presses a kiss to the top of his head and evokes a bubbling laugh from him.

“Ezrina,” I cry in awe at my happy baby boy.

Laken bounces Barron a few feet away over to where Ezrina is holding Nathan hostage, and I steal the opportunity to have a quick one-on-one with Coop.

I lean in and whisper, “Have you kicked Wesley’s ass yet for stealing your wife’s virginity?” I give a single nod because I’d love for it to be true more than anything.

Coop gives a quick shake of the head as Laken and Ezrina bounce back in this direction.

Laken rubs her cheek over Barron’s feather soft hair. “You’re so lucky you get to love on these two little cuddle bunnies all day and all night.”

“Don’t I know it. But soon enough, you’ll have an entire fleet of mini-Coopers to love and cuddle all day and night. And I do mean all night. It turns out cuddle bunnies are in extreme opposition to getting any sleep.”

Laken and Coop share a laugh—Coop’s being the loudest and longest.

“We’ll see what happens in the future. We both applied to grad school.” He shoots a look to Ezrina and Nev. “How about you two? Any kids in your future? I know you’re both busy, but, like my mother says, don’t wait for the perfect time.”

Sounds like Coop’s mama is gunning for a mini-Cooper just as much as I am. I’d love for Laken to have kids close in age with the boys.

Ezrina and Nev grow quiet with Nev suddenly craning his neck toward the kitchen and Ezrina tossing up a hand in defeat.

“It’s happened.” Her voice cracks. “I’m with child.”

A collective gasp comes from our little group. Marshall jumps to his feet before I can congratulate either of them and bows toward the mother-to-be.

“Well done, Rina.” He picks up her hand and lands a gentle kiss to the back. “How ardent, how ruddy your cheeks. I should dare say you look resplendent with child.”

My jaw goes slack a moment. I don’t remember a single ardent, ruby, or resplendent compliment while I was expecting. But, truthfully, I looked like a pile of diarrhea on fire, so I can’t really blame him. Marshall does staunchly believe in telling the truth.

“Ezrina!” Laken and I lunge over her at the same time. “This is amazing,” I pant. “You and Nev will be parents. How beautiful is that?”

“Yes.” She pulls back with her hand on her stomach, and I can’t help but think she looks forlorn. “Chloe’s child, too.”

“Oh no.” I try to pull her out of that Bishop stupor. “This will be yours through and through.”

“I’ve come to peace with it.” She lifts a hand. “Just like I came to peace with it when Tobie was born.”

I never thought of it that way. Chloe had Tobie while in Ezrina’s body. So, yes, that child is genetically Ezrina’s. No wonder she went running with bells on the minute Wesley hired her as a nanny. It was her own baby she was looking after. I’ll make it a point to bring Tobie around more often. I think Ezrina would appreciate that.

“Ezrina.” Laken pulls her in for a quick hug, but Ezrina yanks free with a wild look in her eyes that I haven’t seen since she and I were on opposite ends of the fighting arena.

“I have to go.” She lands the baby back in my arms and takes off for the kitchen.

A strangulating awkwardness permeates our small group.

I look to Nev. “What was that about?” My heart thumps wild because Ezrina isn’t known for acting erratic—at least not anymore.

Nev glances to Laken, his cheeks flushing with color. “I’m afraid her temperament as of late has yet to adjust to the needs of creating new life.” He nods toward the floor as if he had just spilled an honest truth. “If you’ll excuse me.” He gives a slight bow and starts toward the kitchen, but I cut him off and pull him to the side.

“Nev, you know something. I can see it in your eyes.” Nevermore may have only been mine in raven form for a short while, but I’d like to think we’ve gotten to know one another beyond the borders of the flesh. “Tell me what it is. Shed light on this mystery for me.” My mother said that something was up with Ezrina, and I highly doubt it had to do with that baby brewing in her belly.

“Skyla—” He cranes his neck past me trying to get a better look at Ezrina who has long since disappeared into the bowels of the kitchen. “I’m afraid this isn’t my matter.” He closes his eyes a moment. You can see the fear, the disappointment pulsating through his surface veins. “Now let me comfort my wife.”

“I’m here for you, Nev. I know that something is afoot with Ezrina. My mother warned me.”

“Your mother!” Nevermore blanches with fear at the mention of her. She’s the one who put him in the raven’s body and the same one who took him right back out again. Needless to say, she can produce quite the reversal of feathered fortune if need be.

“Wait, Nev!” I call after him, but he’s long gone. Nathan pulls at my hair and bubbles with a laugh as he looks lovingly into my eyes. “Oh my God,” I whisper, the panic quickly draining from me. “You make everything better.” I gift him a little kiss to the forehead.

Laken steps forward, a stern look on her face. “What was that about?”

Marshall and Cooper close in our circle as the three of them await an answer.

“Ezrina is up to something.” I glance back at the kitchen. “And it’s not that bun she’s got in the oven.”

“Knew it.” Coop digs his hands into his pockets as he gazes past me. “I went down last week to speak with her, and she ushered me out of the lab so fast you would think it were on fire.”

Ezrina comes out once again and gets straight to helping a customer out. Marshall pins her with a look, and I can tell by the way his eyes do that sexy little squint that he’s engaging with her somehow.

“What is it?” I’m breathless at the prospect. Ezrina is a wild card. There is so much good she can do for our people, but one misstep could cost us everything.

Marshall lets out a hard breath as he continues to glower at her. “Rina.” Her name bleeds from his lips with the utmost disappointment. Whatever it is, Marshall has just been apprised, and judging by his response, he’s not that thrilled with her either. Both my mother and Marshall are disappointed in her? Strikes one and two. I’m betting strike three will be me as soon as I get wind of whatever it is she’s cooking up.

Before I can shake the answer out of him, the door to the Gas Lab bursts open and a rather odd entourage steps in. Melody Winters and a young man around her age are both decked out as if they were headed to a Halloween party. She’s dressed like one of Marshall’s old-world hussies with a long frilly black and pink dress, low-cut in the front—on both top and bottom—and a bustle in the back that makes her ass look as if it’s better suited for a donkey. And he’s wearing—God, he’s dressed like those long-deceased souls in the Transfer. An old-world suit with a string for a tie. So odd.

The ring on my finger begins to glow like a moonbeam, and I clamp my hand over it in the event it decides to cause a neon scene. But it’s too late. Melody and her old-world cohort speed on over.

“What’s this?” She flicks her finger over my hand—over the glowing morsel of the King’s throne itself, and her jaw goes slack. “Well, well, Sector Marshall. It looks as if we have a time traveling thief on our hands.”