Warm fingers take up my other hand, and I turn to see Gage in all his splendor, his dimples settled in his smile, his black hair swept back like velvet. From over his shoulder I see Ellis, perfectly whole, and my spirit soars. He’s lean and comely, indignantly charming, even here.
Somehow, someway we had all found a way to cheat death. Life courses through our veins with something far more sophisticated than blood—perhaps water from the throne of God himself.
Slowly, one by one, the elders rise and look up at the Sovereign One.
The Lamb of God stands and takes a bold step forward. His eyes burn like fire, his smile a delicate touch of his approval. His full attention falls over us, and every molecule in me reacts with the splendor of a Fourth of July spectacular.
“You’ve accomplished much.” He thunders it out so fierce my bones tremble.
The elders lift their hands and point just shy of his feet to a red glowing stone.
Embedded in a jasper boulder extends the handle of a silver sword, and my heart races to my throat.
“The sword of the Master,” I whisper.
“It’s yours, Skyla.” Marshall says it with such authority I almost believe him.
“So this is it?” I take a step, still tethered to both Gage and Marshall himself.
A thunderous explosion rattles the room as a plume of dark smoke enters the vicinity. The navy fog clears revealing my mother on one side of the sword, Demetri on the other.
They let him in here?
I squeeze Marshall’s hand.
He’s one of the reasons they’ll burn the place down eventually. Sanitation will be priority one, once all of wickedness has been ousted for eternity
.
Figures, the only way to rid the grounds of the disease that is Demetri is to torch it.
“I totally get it,” I whisper.
“You ‘totally get’ what, Skyla?” My mother’s voice rises high like a knife tapping the side of a crystal flute. Her beauty is sharp. In every way Candace Messenger is far more refined than I can ever be. Her hair comes to life in long, glittering waves. Her body shines like its own celestial eminence.
I press my lips in tight. I may not have been raised by the woman who bears my features, but I sure know when I’ve crossed her invisible line, and I venture to guess that would be right about now.
“Do not speak unless spoken to.” She bites the air with her words. “If you’re to lead the Nephil kingdom, you must learn to behave immaculately in the presence of the Maker.” She expands her hand toward the throne, and her smile rises and falls like the strum of a harp.
I give a brief nod, but all I really want to do is take hold of the prize, claim victory for Celestra once and for all.
“The sword remains for a little while longer. You may touch it and nothing more.” Her pale eyes shine like polished stones. “The war is to be diagnostically weighed by the Justice Alliance, and when we’ve reached our verdict you will be notified.” She crimps a tiny smile.
“What do you mean notified?” A swell of anger wafts through my body. It rises in me like an unnatural emotion,
unwanted
, and inspires a wave of nausea to roll through my stomach.
“Touch the sword if you desire then be gone,” she says it sweetly as if she never heard my question. “When the time is right, you’ll be called to the ethereal plane where we’ll discuss the repercussions of the war generated in your name.” Her eyes sharpen over me. “All is not done, and you have not won. Be warned, I am every bit unhappy that the victory was not clear.”
“But I’m here.” I let go of Gage and Marshall and fan my hands around at the great expanse. “Look—the rules were, the elders would lead me to the sword, and clearly the elders have brought me to where I need to be.” I stride over to the jasper boulder housing the prize and reach to grab it.
“Consider carefully what you’re about to do,” she growls.
“You said I could touch it.” But we both know damn well I’m going to snatch it. I might even try to procure a casualty with it even though it’s an impossibility to kill a Fem. At this point I’d take a temporary maiming.
“Skyla,
no
,” Marshall barks from behind.
I clasp my fingers around the cool metal handle, and the sword illuminates a bright cobalt blue, the exact color of Gage’s—
A wild jolt travels through me, wicked and reckless. My body propels through the air as I fly backward, straight out of the throne room at speeds unreconciled to man. Then to my horror, I start in on the descent, heavy and swift, with a pronounced finality.
The ground comes up quickly, and instinctively I know this is going to hurt.
It figures that I would get myself thrown out on my—
My head breaks my fall, and all of Heaven claps to darkness.
A groan expels from me as I land flat on my ass—my face pressed over the glassy pavement.
“Shit,” I whisper, completely ticked at my mother. I bite down on my lip as I struggle to sit up. It takes everything in me not to rattle out an entire slew of expletives. I’m pretty sure language like that will land me in far more precarious places than streets lined with gold.
I glance around at my new surroundings. It’s beautiful here, air perfumed with honeysuckle, streets that shimmer like glitter—a river bisects from the exit of the throne room down as far as the eye can see with fruit trees lining either side of the water. Large balls in every color hang off the heavy-laden boughs like oversized Christmas ornaments.
“Skyla!”
I glance up to see my father’s glorious face and spring to my feet no worse for wear.
“Did you see the war? How did I do?” I wrap my arms around his neck, and he spins me, burying a kiss in my hair in the process. He holds the scent of lemons and spice. His features have adjusted to the younger version of himself, about thirty, and his head is full of dark, thick hair. I run my fingers through it, soft and slick.
“You were fantastic. I’m proud of you, Skyla.”
“Yeah, well, my
mother
didn’t seem to feel that way.” I glance back at the structure behind me.
“What did she say?” His affect darkens. I think we both know my mother’s disapproval is a buzz-kill in any dimensional plane.
“She’ll call when she’s done adding up the points.” I shrug.
“Ms. Messenger.” Marshall strides up with Gage, Logan, and Ellis holding up the rear.
I bypass Marshall and wrap my arms around the three of them. Logan and Gage both envelop me in their love—so holy and pure it quickens through me like a flame.
“You did good.” Ellis gives me a knuckle bump.
“Ellis.” I dive over him and hold on tight. “I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Forget about it. I let my balls lead my emotions—it was stupid.”
“Language.” Marshall clears his throat before sharpening his gaze in my direction. “And where might my thank you be?”
I head over and lean into his ear. “You, I’m going to thank in private.”
I don’t mean for it to sound so riddled with desire, but Marshall saved my—wait…
I pull back in horror.
“Are we dead?” I startle at the realization—and given where we are, I’d say the odds of an earthly existence are not currently in our favor. I snatch Marshall up by the shoulders. “No man can see the face of God and live, right?”
“Hold that thought.” Marshall raises a brow. “Why don’t we return to Paragon and see for ourselves.”
Logan steps forward and wraps an arm around my waist, successfully reeling me away from Marshall.
“If you don’t mind”—he tucks his chin ever-so-slightly and pulls me in with the weight of those sad amber eyes—“I’d like another few minutes with Skyla.”
“I’ll gift you less than five.” Marshall snaps his fingers, and my father, Gage, Ellis and the sly Sector himself vanish like smoke.
“They went back.” A mild sense of both dread and delight fills me.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you there.” Logan pulls me in as we walk along the greenbelt that follows the river. A thicket of verbena sprays out its lavender tendrils, and a rash of baby’s breath runs along the border. Everything’s so vibrant here, it’s as if the flowers, the expansive emerald lawn, it all cries out in a choir of glory to the Master. “I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted you all to myself for a moment.”
“Of course I don’t mind.” I lean my head against his shoulder. “Are you going to be OK?” My heart thumps once as if my body knows the truth before my mind, my soul, would ever dare acknowledge it. “Swear to…”—I glance back at the throne room—“you know who—if Chloe killed you for good, I’ll feed her to Cerberus myself.”
“I’m OK.” He offers a circular nod. “Eventually everything will be restored, and all will be right again—sort of.” He lets those last two words trail from his lips uninvited.
“Sort of.” I sigh. I don’t like the sound of that. I pull him in and graze my lips over his cheek. “When we get back, I’m going to love you something fierce. I already do.” I press my chest into his. “I thought I lost you forever—you and Gage.” I shake my head. Just the thought makes my stomach burn like a stone on fire.
“You didn’t.” He brushes his lips over my ear, and my body prickles to life with a renewed lust for Logan. “You’ll never truly lose me, Skyla. Do you realize we have an eternity to spend together?” Logan locks his fiery gaze over mine, and an electrical current runs wild through me.
“You know, back home”—I swallow hard—“on Paragon, I said I would choose between you and Gage.” My voice cracks as I try to push the words out. I don’t know if I can go there—already my heart has splintered over the thought of losing one to gain the other.
Logan presses his finger to my lips and shakes his head just barely.
“Things happen.” A dull laugh rattles from his chest. “
We
happen. Do you believe me, Skyla?”
“Yes,” I say it without letting a single thought weigh me down. It’s so much easier to give into Logan without Gage and his pleading blue eyes begging for my attention. Although, something in me knows Gage gets everything I’m willing to give in the end.
“I heard you.” A smile rides up his face, and he buries it in his cheek. “What if I told you the end brought something different?” His brows pitch seductively, and my lips part involuntarily. “What if I told you I was a part of your story in ways you could never imagine?”
A wellspring of hope floods me. In all truth, I had lost hope for Logan and me.
“The visions,” I say numbly.
“Part of the story,” he’s quick to answer. His longitudinal dimple inverts, and the pale blue sky illuminates him like a rare gem—like a marble statue carved by the Master himself. Logan had become a god in the small interim between Paragon and the war.
The ground bounces beneath me. My body starts in on a mean gyration, giving way to strong involuntary jerks that have the power to launch me straight to the bottom of that river.
“Is it the Counts?” I hook my grip over Logan. A part of me is terrified I’m being deported to the Tenebrous Woods, and another part of me is very much pissed that I’m leaving in general.
“You’re going back to Paragon.” His features harden as a look of discouragement sweeps across his face. “Skyla, promise me you’ll get the pendant back from Chloe. Make it priority one—it has to be. And remember, I’ll always love you,” he whispers that last part like a secret. “Can I kiss you?” A smile hedges on his lips, but he won’t give it.
“Yes.” I almost said no. I almost said not until I decide between you and Gage, but everything feels so final here.
Logan presses his lips to mine and lingers over me like a dream. Right here, in this magical place, it feels obvious I was made to love Logan for all eternity—his soul and mine fused together as one.
My lids flutter as I struggle to open my eyes. The scenery has transformed itself.
I’m back in the woods behind Marshall’s house on the night of his disastrous masquerade charade.
The forest lights up in a choir of terrified screams.
Brielle charges at me and rattles me to attention. Her auburn hair waves wild in the breeze reminiscent of Ezrina.
“What is it?” I ask in a panic.
“It’s Gage!” She shrills it into my face. “He’s
dead
.”
***
“Where is he?” I shout as Brielle whisks me through a dizzying crowd of shell-shocked onlookers.
Marshall’s party has gone to shit faster than my hopes of garnering the sword of the Master. Of course I completely blame my mother. Speaking of which, I believe the lunatic is still on the premises.
“There was this ax murderer, and there were all these screams. Chloe and Pierce are cut and—” She pulls my hand over and examines it under the dull shadow of night. “Skyla, you’re bleeding.” Brielle glances up at me. Her hair feathers in toward her face, her bright green eyes are wide with horror.
“I’m fine—I promise. I must have fell in the woods.” I pluck at the sticky tendrils of my dress. It seems to have lost its mythical glow, much like this night. My shoulders feel sore as if someone had plucked the wings right out of my back, and they might have for all I know. I pan the vicinity for Gage as Brielle leads me through the woods and back toward the house. “Where is he?” Something isn’t right. After each region we were deposited right back where we left off, and I distinctly remember Gage and I disintegrating in a mind-numbing kiss. This isn’t looking so good for Gage.
A panic as wide and deep as the ocean grips me, concerning Logan and Ellis’s fate as well.
We navigate through the tangle of bodies, each in their formal attire, some with their masks still pressed to their faces.
Marshall snatches me by the elbow while heading in the opposite direction. The moon glares over him and creates shadowed sutures just under his cheeks.
“I’m retrieving Mr. Harrison and delivering him to the Transfer,” he gruffs it out a little more hostile than I’m used to. “Decisions will be made this evening regarding his future.” He speeds off into the thick of night hopefully with his Ellis radar well intact.
An image of Ellis lying in pieces at my feet tattoos itself in my brain.