The sky covers Paragon with a cloak of darkness, thick as midnight, and at two in the afternoon it’s an amazing feat to witness. If Paragon had fallen into the sea, the rest of the world would simply carry on without us. Those endless L.A. commutes would continue without batting a false eyelash. Hunger and war would rage on to see another day. It seems that Paragon has to battle for her very existence. Despite the fog, she demands to be seen. I realize there are places in this world where night swallows down the day, hour after hour, but technically, Paragon isn’t one of them. But this afternoon the island has lost her will to fight and has succumb to the dark winter and his dark charm. There isn’t an inch of promise on the horizon. Instead, the storm batters Paragon with an incessant beating. This is a lashing from the heavens, corporal punishment for all of Paragon’s blatant sins. After all, this is the nexus of the battle of the spiritual forces that rule our universe. Perhaps we deserve the biggest beating, the most devastating blows that Mother Nature has to offer. Celestra and all of its formidable power has taken a back seat to Wesley’s Steel Barricade. Wesley and his wicked father, Demetri, are in fact proving to be made of something far stronger than steel—they had become the sun, and the rest of the Factions are simply spinning in their orbit. Celestra is slowly being swallowed by the night, and Wesley is at the helm of the darkness.

The Paragon Bowling Alley sits like a stone anchored in an angry sea. I can see Whitehorse, my home, the home I built for Skyla, across the street from the doors leading into the arcade. The bowling alley itself is original, save for the kitchen, which caught fire, followed by a renovation a few years back. The blaze was set by Fems trying to kill Skyla—or me—a second time around. I suppose you can never be too sure. The one thing I am certain of is that the Fems are far more demonic than they ever are angelic. Yes, they love the Master, and the Master’s Son, but they can’t seem to fathom the fact the Sectors, their spiritual equals, are in fact superior to them in the earthen realm, and thus in the heavenlies as well. It’s all about saving face—a power grab. Who gets the head seat at the dinner table. Who rides shotgun. Nothing more than a juvenile battle of the wills. But when you get down to brass tacks, the Sectors—picture a million Marshall Dudleys—are for Celestra and the ethics and morals we stand for. The Fems have aligned themselves with the Countenance Faction, which superstitiously is out for themselves. As much as the Fems want control of the spiritual realm, the Counts have lusted after control of the Factions. The only thing the Fems and the Counts really have in common is their shared hatred for Celestra.

I head into my office and pull out an old file marked pricing. Inside, I have all of Wesley’s latest and greatest moves mapped out in a series of symbols, a shorthand that only I can understand, and half the time it’s too far gone for even me to remember what I was trying to say. I fall into my seat, the cheap office chair with its chipping faux leather raining black confetti all over the floor, and start pouring over my notes.

Wesley has reanimated the Viden youth as Spectators. In other words, he’s turned them into a roving band of people hungry zombies. Skyla and I had them roped and tied in the Tenebrous Woods, the old tunnels the Counts once used as a blood harvesting station for Celestra. Brute assholes. But nevertheless, every last Celestra is free, and as of the christening, Wesley—correction, Demetri freed the Viden Spectators as well.

I thump my pencil over my desk trying to drink this in. Wes has thousands of people ready and willing to wreak havoc on our unsuspecting world. Demetri finally has Gage where he wants him—sworn to lead the rat pack of destruction as the head Fem in charge. Gage had no choice. When he left the Barricade, he was cursed—the heart of one he loved would turn against him. Once his sons were born, it was clear the curse would be passed to them, and in an effort to save his children from a lifetime of wickedness—thus breaking their mother’s heart—he assumed the curse on himself. He did what any good father and husband would have done. Gage is a hero.

And that’s where we are today. So, what is Wesley Edinger’s next move?

I hold the paper up as if that might actually shed light on the disaster. Demetri has already caused a significant rift between Skyla and Gage. That was easy enough. Now that Wes has his right-hand man back on his side, he’ll move as quick as greased lightning to achieve his overall goal—but what exactly is that? World domination? Too broad. Nope. I’m pretty sure once he kicks Celestra to the curb he’ll let the rest of us in on his little nefarious plot. No time to wait for that bullshit. The thing with someone as crooked as Wes and Demetri is that you’d better stay ten steps ahead of them or they’ll eat your lunch. Hell, they’ll eat your breakfast and dinner, too.

“Logan?” Lexy Bakova pops her head in. Despite the many other things going on in Lexy’s life, she still makes time to help out at the bowling alley. Of my original crew from West Paragon High, only she and Ellis remain. She’s vamped up from head to toe in black—low-cut on top, high-cut on bottom, spiked heels, bright red lipstick. I used to not think too much of the fact that Lex looks as if she’s headed clubbing after a shift until Liam pointed out that the show was just for me. Liam has leashed himself to Michelle Miller—who in effect is Lexy’s best friend. Michelle made it clear to my brother that if she couldn’t have me, she’s rooting for Lex. And believe me, the two of them are campaigning hard. “There’s someone out here who wants you.” She runs her tongue slowly over her lips as if she were letting me know she wants me, too.

“On my way.” I tuck the file back and head inside, fully expecting to find the place filled with government drones, each in a matching suit, those same dull expressions that Moser and Killion wore like a mask—that is, right up until they were eaten alive. I didn’t have the displeasure of seeing Moser torn to pieces, but I witnessed poor Killion with her body in a Spectator’s mouth. That horrified look on her face—the one that realized death was imminent—has been staining my nightmares ever since. But there’s only one suit in the entire place, and it doesn’t belong to the feds—or thankfully, Marshall Dudley. It belongs to Heathcliff O’Hare. But it’s not the suit he’s wearing that surprises me. It’s the somber look on his face. Ever since Candace freed him from the body of a raven, he’s worn a perennial smile. Mostly that has to do with the fact he’s married to the love of his life, Ezrina, so the frown is new and I’m not loving it.

“What’s up my, old friend?” I slap him over the shoulder as we navigate to the nearest table. It’s empty inside, not even a ghost is willing to spend its precious time haunting the place.

“I’m afraid Rina is up—or should I say down.” Nev rests his elbows onto the table and lands his head in his hands. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her as of late. She’s ornery, and rigid, and runs hot and cold from moment to moment.”

“Sounds like a woman.” My shit-eating grin melts away just as fast as I shed it while I do a quick sweep for any females in the vicinity. I’m not afraid of Lexy Bakova, but my heart would break if Skyla heard the disparaging remark, especially since she’s markedly pissed at the moment. “Look, I don’t mean that. Something is obviously eating at her. Maybe it’s hormones. Maybe it’s that time of the month?” Wow, now I’m really glad there’s not a female around to witness my chauvinistic side shining through. “Okay, I don’t mean that either. Women have every right to get upset. Did you piss her off? Are you leaving the toilet seat up again? That drives them fucking nuts. Pardon my language.”

“Heavens no.” Nev perks back to life. “It only takes once for me to learn a sharp lesson, and Rina does like to dole them out sharply. I would never dishonor my ladylove in that way—in any way for that matter. The water closet rules are strict, and mind you I happily abide by them. Which is why I’m truly stumped. I spoke with Master Dudley this morning. He suggested I demand she snap out of it.”

“Don’t listen to him.”

“That’s what I informed him, so he suggested I speak with you. He assured me you have vast experience with disappointing women and losing them.” He frowns.

I groan at how swift and deeply Dudley hit the disappointing nail on the head. “He is a charmer, isn’t he?”

“So, it’s true?” Nevermore seems intrigued by my unique abilities.

“Only to an extent. Look, every woman is different. Every relationship is different. What works with Skyla won’t necessarily work with Ezrina.”

“So it’s still Skyla you pine for.” He gives a gentle nod as if apologizing for my useless endeavor. “I’m sorry, my friend. In no way have I come to highlight your defeat—excuse the term, disappointment.”

“You had it right the first time.”

He rises to leave, and it feels as if our short-lived conversation had turned into a freight train that bumped over my body. I do love Skyla. I very much still pine for her. But she’s not my wife anymore. She belongs to Gage. Heck, she’s had his children and has cemented their familial standing now and forever. A thought comes to me. “Has Ezrina been eating strange things?”

Nev pauses to consider this. “Only if you consider cheeseburgers by the dozens strange. Rina doesn’t think twice about what she consumes these days.” He lifts his finger. “I’ll see you at the house, my friend.” He takes off, and my mouth falls open.

Ezrina is acting erratic and eating a record number of cheeseburgers? She’s emulating Skyla’s behavior to a T for the entire last year—at least while she was with child, children to be exact. If Ezrina and Nev are about to become parents, I think I’ll let them stumble upon that sure-to-be-adorable nugget on their own.

Ellis comes my way with a giant grin floating on his stoned face. Ellis Harrison truly does believe a joint before noon is the breakfast of champions.

“Guess who you are looking at, man?” He tips his head back and lets out a howl that echoes through this cavernous dump on a loop.

“I’m afraid to guess.” True as God. Ellis only ever smiles because he’s chemically altered to do so. If that silly grin on his face is due to the fact he thinks he has a capital idea, then I’d better run for cover. I want nothing to do with it.

“Dude, you are looking at the next Paragon Island millionaire.” He blows on his fingernails. “Not that a few lousy million bucks is what it used to be, but it’s seed money, dude. With my daddy’s money burning a hole in my back pocket, I’m ready to tackle the world, man!”

“Your trust fund finally kicked in.” I stand up and slap him five. “Congratulations, man. I’ll buy you a drink. Soda okay?”

“Okay for now. But I’m thinking you might want to beef up the menu, add some of the hard stuff, and draw in a crowd that really knows how to spend its money.”

I think on it as I swipe a cup from the dispenser and fill it to the brim with ice and soda before handing it off to Ellis. “I don’t know. When my father opened this place, he didn’t exactly have a liquor store in mind.” My father ran the bowling alley up until he and my mother moved to Oregon to be near her elderly parents. They hadn’t planned on staying long but made the most of their time there by working the farmland. They raised enough pumpkins three years in a row to sell to the public, and that was their final swan song. There was a fire, then—my mother, my father—they were gone. I was burned beyond recognition. Decades of surgeries deemed me functional yet imprisoned in a painfully contractured body. All hopes of a normal life were off the table until a sweet soul with an angel’s face came into my life and fell in love with me and wanted me—for her daughter. Candace Messenger and I do share quite the checkered past. There are details I have yet to share with Skyla about those clandestine visits. Skyla is right. I never tell her the entire truth. There are just some things I don’t want to know myself.

“No liquor.” I glance out at the bowling alley with its depressed dim lighting, its empty lanes, the silence that permeates like a cancer eating up any remnants of joy my parents might have envisioned for the place. “Okay, maybe liquor, but what this place really needs is a bulldozer.” I’m only partially teasing.

“That’s what I was thinking, man.” Ellis drapes his arm over my shoulder. “I did a little research. You own the land, dude. You’re an effing land baron.”

“True in theory only.”

A shadow darkens the entry, and Liam comes bustling over looking as forlorn and down as Nev did. God forbid he knocked up Miller. I doubt it would end as well for them.

“What’s stinging your crotch?” I slap my brother over the back in an attempt to shake the sour mood out of him.

“I’m useless.” He takes a seat on the edge of the table and slumps. “The seed money Barron gifted me to get my life back on track has done a disappearing act. I’m busted. I’m broke. I need a job.”

Why do I get the feeling seed money is the term of the day?

“A career,” Ellis corrects with an alarming amount of enthusiasm. “Logan and I were just discussing our plans to raze this place and resurrect it bigger and better than before.”

“We were?” I’m only half-amused because it sounds like something I might actually be interested in.

“That’s right,” Ellis booms. “This place will rain booze and chicks. But don’t you worry”— he slings an arm over my shoulder—“we’ll still have a kiddie section, a better kiddie section where your kids can play.”

“What kids?”

“The ones with Skyla.”

“Ellis, those kids belong to Gage.”

“Gage, you—what’s the difference? You and I both know you’ve got a ménage situation going with the two of them. Those kids are as good as yours.”

I hate it when Ellis is right about anything. Not the ménage part—that’s twisted. But those boys feel every bit mine as they do to Gage.

“Get on with your point.” I’ve always had a very hard limit of how much Harrison I can handle in one day, and we just skidded across that line at ménage.

The thought of Skyla and me going at it while Gage supervises thumps through my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Damn Ellis.

“The point is”—Ellis barrels on with it—“we get a bulldozer over here and level the shit out of this place. I’m thinking a total rebuild is in order.”

“What’s this?” Liam slaps his hand over my shoulder and pulls me in. “Dude, who did you fuck, and how fast can I get her number?” He offers a congratulatory pat to my arm. “You’re glowing.” The greasy grin of his fades. “Do I want to know why?”

I am glowing—literally, and have been ever since that lightning bolt kissed my forehead.

I’m about to tell Liam all about that peep show I was privy to that involved our nephew and his nefarious future, but Ellis holds up a hand.

“He’s glowing because we’re about to reduce this place to matchsticks. I’m talking bring on the gasoline. This bowling alley is about to turn into the biggest bonfire the island has ever seen.”

Liam scours me with his concern. Staring at my brother is like looking in a mirror, usually one that scowls and drools after girls, so for once it warms me to see him pouring out his worry for me.

“What the hell’s gotten into you, kid?” He smacks the back of my head with his palm. Liam was always more of a big brother to me in the head-thumping sense than Barron was—that’s because I still see Barron as my adoptive uncle—father. He is in many ways just that.

“I’ve gotten into him.” Ellis thumps the back of Liam’s head as if eager to get in on the brotherly action. “We’re turning this place into something people actually want to patronize. We’re revamping the kiddie zone and thinking bigger and better. We’re getting a liquor license and dumping the pizza oven for a five-star chef. What do you think?”

Liam will be the first to protest. He spent his youth haunting this place.

“I’m sold.” He slaps Ellis five, and I’m dumbfounded.

“You’re sold? He’s not talking a renovation, Liam. He wants to raze the entire structure. The bones that our father built—that he designed with our mother—will be for not.”

Liam glances around as if assessing the gravity of my words. “Don’t be such a dramatic pussy.”

“Yeah, Logan.” Ellis smacks me over the arm. “Stop being such a damn pussy.”

Liam winces. “I think change would be good. We can make it modern, make it our own. Whether we like it or not, change is something that’s good for us. And in this case, it might actually breathe a little financial life into the place.”

Ellis has already implemented his fair share of ideas into the bowling alley, and as much as I hate to admit it, all of them were winners. But it still wasn’t enough to push us over that magical black line—not for long at least.

“And there’s a ton of land here.” Ellis shakes his head at me as if this were somehow my fault. “You’re swimming in prime Paragon real estate. I say we pull the bowling alley to the street and put the parking out back. Or hell, let’s build a whole other structure next door.”

Liam gives Ellis a shove in the chest, and personally I’m relieved he’s finally come to his senses. “A gym!”

Shit.

Ellis lets out an ear-piercing whoop that echoes throughout the empty facility like dynamite. “That’s what I’m effing talking about! Finally, an Oliver who speaks my language.” They head over to the table, brimming with erratic thoughts and irrational ideas—all of which spell out the Paragon Bowling Alley’s doom—and all of which happen to be pretty damn good ideas even if I don’t want to admit it.

My heart sinks as I cast a mournful look around the place. The bowling alley as I know it is sitting on the wrong end of the hourglass. I can feel it. Liam is right. Whether or not we like it, sometimes, change is good for us. The word sometimes is my own addition to his newest catchphrase—and Liam is full of them as of late. But Skyla embracing Chloe back into her life is anything but good. Skyla and Gage at odds over anything at all isn’t a good thing, let alone warring over which angelic being will rule the ethereal roost. I’d say let the Fems and Sectors duke it out, but it’s too late for that.

A jag of lightning brightens the world outside our windows as if the sun itself came down to kiss us, and both Ellis and Liam howl like a couple of wolves. Then the thunder starts in, a low demonic growl with the volume set to high, and it mellows them right back down again.

A familiar face stains the entry, tall and brooding, eyes the color of a new dawn that we may never be privy to see again.

“Gage.” I head over and pull him into a partial embrace. It’s been a week since Christmas, and I’ve steered clear of both him and Skyla.

“How’s she doing?” he whispers it low like a secret, but the disruption taking place between Skyla and Gage has been anything but a secret on Paragon. Once Lexy got wind of their marital discord, she ran with it like the wind. And just like the wind, there’s not a damn place on this island that it hasn’t touched. Not that too many people are concerned with Skyla’s love life—outside of the Factions and a few classmates from West. In short, I think Lexy just seems to enjoy annoying the hell out of Skyla.

“I have no clue, man. Give her a call.” I sock him hard on the arm. I want it to hurt. I want to wake him the hell up so he can see what’s happened and then figure out how to fix this pile of shit Demetri landed us in. “I have no intention of becoming the middleman.” There. I said it.

Gage blinks to life with a smile, and those dimples of his dig in deep. Haven’t seen them in a while, and it feels good to know his joy is still within reach. “Dude, I’m the middleman, and we both know it. I’ve always been caught in the middle between you two. Don’t fight me on it.” He rubs his arm before his affect softens. “Look, I mean it. I need you. She’s off the rails, and I need her to be whole. I broke her. I didn’t mean to, but I did. You need to go in and dig deep. Get to the bottom of this Bishop mystery. Skyla knows better than to mess with Chloe.”

“That’s what’s scary. She’s voluntarily messing with Chloe.” A shiver runs through me. “She’s playing with fire—and she will get burned in the end. I can’t fathom what’s going through her mind.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, I’m the reason she’s derailing. She has every right to hate me. But I need in again. I crave those boys as much as I do her. I’d do anything to have my old life back.”

Gage will never have his old life back. There isn’t a chance in hell, and we both know it. But instead of stating the obvious, I offer up a falsely encouraging nod.

“What’s with all the enthusiasm?” He nods to Ellis and Liam who have busted out the legal pad and are jotting down every bad idea that comes to mind.

“They’re deconstructing my life. Nothing new, my friend.” I’ve already swum in the deep end of the insanity pool with Ellis and Liam. And I’m not eager to abandon the conversation. “So, what’s next with Skyla? When was the last time you spoke with her? When did you see the boys?”

“I just left the house. As soon as I showed up, Skyla took a shower so I had a chance to spend some time with them.” He winces. “I can’t live apart from my boys, Logan. Skyla has to hear me out. She has to know I would die to protect my family.”

Ellis and Liam abandon their brainstorming efforts and head on over.

“New Year’s Eve—my house.” Ellis points to the two of us. “I’d have it here, but dude, this place is deader than the effing morgue. Get it? Deader than the morgue?” He offers himself a robust round of applause. “It’s going to be huge. This is bigger and better than anything I’ve ever done before. I’ve got an all-star lineup. Live bands imported from Host will be rocking us all night long. Get someone to sit on those kids, would you?” he shouts to Gage while walking backward toward the door. “I want Messenger’s fine ass over there, too!”

Gage growls at Ellis for his inability to keep it clean. That’s exactly why I love Gage with Skyla. Contrary to what she believes, he is protective—right down to Ellis’ foul mouth.

“So, you good with the teardown?” Liam gives me a shove as if my opinion didn’t really matter. It probably doesn’t, or shouldn’t at this point, considering I’ve been administering CPR to the place for as long as I can remember and I can’t get it off go.

“I’m rooting for the bonfire.”

Gage shakes his head ever so slightly. “You’re not tearing down this place.”

“Yes, we are.” It’s nice to see Liam doesn’t give much credence to Gage’s opinion either. “We’re rebuilding and putting in a gym next door. Ellis Harrison is brilliant.”

Gage and I groan at the thought of Ellis’ brilliance. It’s heresy at its finest.

“Maybe so.” Gage pumps a small laugh from his chest. “For my sister’s sake, he’d better be. Anyway, I’m up for some construction myself, so maybe I can use whoever you hire to help out with the old Walsh place.”

Skyla and Gage just purchased their very first home a few months back. Skyla’s not crazy about it. And it’s not the fact it’s virtually a haunted fixer-upper that’s making her skittish. It’s the fact it’s planted smack next door to Barron and Emma that has her spooked. Can’t say I blame her. Emma has proven to be every bit the nightmare when it comes to my ex-wife.

Ex-wife. A dull laugh rides through me. That sounds bitter and cold, and that’s not at all how Skyla and I are—with the exception of this very moment. I narrow my gaze at my nephew for getting me into this bitter cold pickle to begin with.

“Back to Skyla.”

“And I’m out of here.” Liam throws his hands in the air. “I’ll see you clowns tomorrow night at Harrison’s. Leave the drama behind and let’s start the new year fresh. There’s a lot to be said about forgiveness.” His voice trembles through the walls as he ducks out into the dark armpit of the storm.

“Skyla isn’t going to forgive me anytime soon,” Gage muses. “Maybe not you either.”

That dry smile materializes on my face once again. Deep down, it’s me Skyla should resent, hate—not Gage. Never Gage. I’m the one who singlehandedly turned her life upside down and tossed her to the celestial wolves. But life doesn’t have a rewind button, and time travel doesn’t work that way either. This is the shit hole we’re in, and both Gage and Skyla Oliver are going to work this damn thing out. I’ll make sure of it if it’s the last thing my dead body accomplishes on this planet.

“I know what you’re thinking, dude.” He smacks me over the arm before giving my shoulder one of those bionic squeezes. Same ones he used to dole out in high school before a big game. Gage always gave the best pep talks. In fact, the coach gave him the floor more often than not. “You’ll get your time with her.” He looks past me, his eyes wide and vacant as if drifting into some invisible horizon that erases his existence altogether. “It will happen much sooner than you think.”

I kick his foot out from under him, and he stumbles a moment before righting himself. “Snap out of it.” I sling an arm around his shoulder. “You are, and always will be, the love of that woman’s life. You have given her a gift—two gifts—for which she is eternally grateful. The two of you have bonded your souls, through love, in ways that most people wish they could experience for just a moment in this life. This heartache, this heartbreak sponsored by the Fems—it too shall pass. Mark my words, Gage. By this time next year, this will all just be a blip on the radar.”

“Blip on the radar, huh? Sounds like something—or someone is about to bite the big one.”

“Are you saying I’m not a good cheerleader?”

Gage scuffs my hair up and rubs his knuckles hard over my head. “I’m saying you’re a good prognosticator. Trouble is coming, Logan. I can feel it in my creaky bones. My days are numbered, and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.” He heads for the exit, and I follow him to the door.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, sweetheart,” I tease at a weak attempt to add levity to the situation. “My days are over, and I’m still parading around this planet like I mean it.”

“So, you’re saying it’s not over even when it’s over?” A dry laugh pumps through him. “In that case, you might be a better cheerleader than you think.”

“I’m also a bit delusional.” I turn back and look at the empty bowling alley with its tired paint job and well-worn floors—the shoes lining the counter in bad need of repair themselves. Hell, even the ratted-out loafers look poised to run the hell out of here. “It’s over for this place, isn’t it?”

“It is, but you and I both know what lies ahead. A fresh beginning is the only real cure.”

“So, I cut my losses?”

“You have no more losses—only victories from here on out.” He pulls me into a tight embrace. “You always were the winner between the two of us.”

Gage ducks out into the storm, the downpour flattening his hair, bouncing off his jacket as if he were bulletproof. In a lot of ways, Gage Oliver is just that—bulletproof. His demented father will make sure Gage emerges the winner, but it’s not Skyla’s heart he’s concerned about. I just pray Gage can rise above the wickedness bubbling in his veins, stay strong enough to fight, to resist the evil he was wrought from. Gage cannot lose Skyla. That is something he would very much not survive.

That chilling vision I had the night of the christening comes back to me. Gage on a throne. His body morphing into a demonic creature, a living, breathing dragon.

Yes, much like the mascot with its ironic moniker on Host, it was an omen. A horrible, horrible truth that must be stopped before it ever comes to fruition.

Skyla and Gage could survive a lot of things, but his reign of wickedness would not be one of them.

Gage is right. His days are very much numbered. The only thing he doesn’t realize is that he holds the key to life and death—to Skyla’s heart, to her love and her hatred for him.

Skyla and Gage will survive.

I hope.