Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 7.5) (6 page)

“Be gone, child,” she gravels before returning to her work.

“So, what? You’re just going to keep Logan hostage down here because your hormones happen to be on fire?”

“I keep nothing he hasn’t already given me—my time in the tunnels in exchange for a dreamscape.”

“Yeah, too bad my mother put the kibosh on that little exchange.” Although, it’s probably a good thing—Ezrina was more than a loose cannon down there. “I can see you’re still vying for some time with Heathcliff despite my mother’s warning.”

“It is my only reprieve, my best reality. Don’t you see? I have no other. And when Logan perishes—and he will—I’ll be alone again.”

“Until you can find someone else desperate enough to fool.”

“Covenant.” Her eyes bulge. “He tried to break it. He must be bound.”

He didn’t try to break it. My mother personally freed him. Although, something tells me, Ezrina isn’t in a reasoning state of mind.

My eyes swell with tears at the thought of living life, my senior year, college, the expanse of the unknowable future without Logan, all because he didn’t want me to feel an ounce of pain. Doesn’t he know I would walk through fire for him? “You can’t have Logan.” Think.
Think
. “Not yet, anyway—I need him to fight the war.” Then another, far more potent idea comes to mind. “The Counts are going to take me permanently if I don’t win this war—or sooner. They’re an impatient band of bastards.”

“You won’t win.” She busies herself with a vast array of beakers strewn out over the counter.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I bet her defeatist attitude was responsible for landing her here as much as it was my mother. “But when I do win—and I will—I’m sure there’s something you would like from me”—I come in for the kill—“something I could give you—something I could trade you to have Logan back.”

Ezrina enlivens, as if the thought of a Celestra victory made her blood run warm for the first time in centuries. But she doesn’t respond. Instead, she resumes the search for something in the overhead compartment. 

“You can use his dreams at night when he sleeps.” I backpedal a moment. “You don’t need to keep him prisoner here.” Obviously, my mother doesn’t want him trapped in the Counts’ playground. That’s why she set him free. Doesn’t Ezrina know she’s acting in direct defiance to my mother when what she really needs is to be plotting to get on her good side?

“Logan is mine.” Ezrina rattles an empty bottle before tossing it in a bin.

“I’ll give you anything.” There. I’ve bargained away my life for Logan’s, the way he did for me, without hesitating.

Ezrina turns to face me fully.

“Anything?”

“In exchange for his return to Paragon.”

“Very well.” Ezrina takes a dramatic step forward. “I will take everything, but first, you must find something to appease the Counts so they won’t take you forever.” A slight smile interrupts her constant grimace.

“I’m ‘dating’ Ellis Harrison, and with your help, I’ll bring back Emerson Kragger.”

“Not enough.” She gags and averts her eyes as if I’ve missed the point entirely. “Not nearly enough.”

“I need Emerson or Arson will throw away the key.”

“No.” Her lips cut into a line. “I won’t help.”

“I’ll talk to Demetri and see what I can do,” I whisper—doubtful that I will. It feels like defeat. Like I’ve thrown in the towel before putting the full effort on the warfront. Although getting Logan home will be enough for now. “Is that good?”

“Better,” she confirms. “Once your mother announces my punishment, and that of my lover, we’ll meet again. I will find you. You cannot hide. The world isn’t big enough. There is not a crevasse in the universe that can shelter you from my blade.” Ezrina bows into me. “That’s how I will repay you for the misery you’ve instated. I’ll comfort myself in your cries for mercy before I take my full revenge.”

Lovely.

“So you’ll let Logan go?” I nod.

“Immediately.”

“Tell me, Ezrina. Tell me in plain words what I’m agreeing to.”

Ezrina stiffens with a grimace. “I will live out my days as Skyla Laurel Messenger, and Heathcliff as Logan Oliver. Young love will prosper, and in a way,” she says, caressing the side of my cheek with her hand, coarse as sandpaper, “you will, too. Isn’t that wonderful, Skyla? You and Logan, your flesh will live out its days as one. It’s a beautiful thing, and in the end, a part of you will have great love.”

Gage and his beautiful face blink before me. Marshall and all of his warnings, his mile long list of why I should greatly consider before entering into a covenant, stretch before me, wide as the sea.

“Bring him to me,” I say it sharp with a newfound venom.

“Logan, now. Your body forever.” She echoes with unwarranted glee.

“I’ll win the war and my mother will revert your sentence.” My voice trembles as I try to convince myself that there’s a way out of this.

Logan materializes into the room from nowhere. He looks exhausted, disoriented.

“Skyla, no.” He comes to me, pulls me back by the waist. “Whatever you planned, don’t do it.”

“It is finished.” Ezrina turns and starts in on a slow-building cackle.

Logan backs me out of the room with his eyes glued to her vibrating frame, the future home of my soul, if we’re not careful—if my mother makes the wrong judgment.

Ezrina hurls a bottle in our direction and it explodes midair before ever reaching us.

“Get out!” She screams—her voice echoes and expands, destructive as a mushroom cloud. Vials explode one after the other like a symphony, the windows shatter, and the walls begin to crumble.

Logan takes me by the hand as the Transfer melts around us, detonating under the wrath of Ezrina’s self-imposed apocalypse.

***

Paragon blooms with a fog so thick it makes reality feel like a fairytale.

“What were you thinking?” Logan pulls me out of the line of fire from the thrashing waves at the base of Devil’s Peak. We employed our former knowledge of running and crashing into a wall of granite to land us back into reality. I’d like to smack the celestial being who dreamed that up as a logical porthole to the real world. Marshall blinks through my mind and I shake the thought away.

Paragon hums and whistles around us, denying all of the paranormal charges against it while wrapped in its evening splendor.  

“What were
you
thinking?” I shake him by the shoulders.

He rounds his gaze over me heavy with concern and affection. “I was thinking of you and how much I love you—how I would rather die than watch you suffer.” He loses himself, staring out into the dark churning sea. “You should have left me alone, Skyla. I’m afraid to ask what you did to get me out of there.”

“I know what you did,” I whisper. “You agreed to let Nev have your body if they’re sentenced again.”

“And you?” He gives a stern look. “Does Ezrina get to play the part of Skyla if things don’t go as planned?”

I don’t say anything.

He shakes his head with a placid smile. “Looks like I’ve managed to fuck everything up again. You should run like hell the next time you see me coming. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me.”

The moon casts a glow over his perfectly formed features. The hint of a five o’clock shadow dusts his face and accentuates his godlike glory.

“We’re going to win the faction war.” I try to jostle him back to reality. “If my mother cares about me at all, about the injustice of the Counts, and what Ezrina tried to so heroically accomplish, she’ll revert their judgment. There is no way in hell my mother would have even considered a new trial if there wasn’t a chance she might issue another ruling.”

“Skyla.” He closes his eyes and pulls me in. His warm body presses against mine, and I fold into arms. “We’re living on less than a prayer.”

“We’re living on hope.” I run my hands up over his back to soothe him. Deep down inside, I realize we could win this war and still lose it all.

I need to find my mother.

It’s her I need to strike a deal with—but something in me already knows the odds are far from in my favor.

Chapter 62

Principality

Nicholas Haver’s house, sits at the distal end of the Paragon Estates. It’s sheltered behind an entire row of Italian cypress trees, each their own stalwart powerhouse of intimidation.

A tar-covered sky blankets the island with intermittent breaks in the clouds that illuminate a dull lavender glow from the other side. My breath plumes out in dense milky sprays as I hurry down the path to the barn-like structure. Logan offered to stick around and give me a ride home, but I told him I’d catch one with Gage. He’s beyond exhausted. Ironically, prancing around in the playground of his dreams is the equivalent of running back-to-back marathons—not that Logan is welcome at these meetings anymore, thanks to Holden’s killing spree.  

The overgrown shed in the back of the Havar’s property is lit up with a warm peachy glow. A low rumble emits from inside, followed by periodic spurts of silence.

I’m late. I’ll be lucky if I haven’t missed the entire damn show.

I make my way to the entrance and peer in to see where Gage might be seated before creating a spectacle of myself.

A tall man with an otherworldly glow looks in my direction as if he didn’t need to see my person to know it was me lurking in the doorway. He’s seated next to Nicholas Haver himself and faces the sea of onlookers who traveled from near and far to hear his words of celestial-inspired wisdom.

“Glad you could fit this into your schedule,” he calls. His voice booms unnaturally across the cavernous room and barrels past me out the exit. I recognize him from the war, Delphinius, same clown who told Marshall we’d marry.

All eyes turn toward the door. They struggle to see me until I take a few shy steps into the facility and reveal myself as none other than Skyla-I-Love-Losing-the-War Messenger.

“Are you waiting for direction?” Nicholas Haver, a heavyset man with a triple chin and constant dribble of sweat running down his temples, fans me in with haste.

I take a seat up front next to Dr. Booth. I have no clue where Gage is and I’m too chicken shit to further scope out the establishment. Dr. Booth gives a paternal tap to my knee and straightens as if he weren’t at all ashamed to be associated with me.

“We have a principality gracing us with his presence, Skyla,” Nicholas says it extra slow, like I might need an interpreter to understand the basic semantics of the English language. “He’s going to give you direction and strategies on how to fight the remainder of the war. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” I pull my chin up, trying not to look like the frightened schoolgirl I really am.

Dr. Booth offers me an appreciative smile. He’s wearing his signature wire-rimmed glasses, a sweater with a dress shirt underneath and gold-notched tie. He bleeds a peaceful expression that suggests everything is going to be all right, and it makes me want to hug him until this entire nightmare dissolves to nothing because I happen to know the truth. Nothing will ever be all right again. 

“Skyla.” Delphinius rattles the room with his ethereal vocals. “Five regions have been lost.” He tilts his elongated head to the side. His silver hair, his barely-there eyes refract the light like a prism. His skin looks a sickly pale grey, but he’s muscular and in every other way, fit and healthy. “Seven regions remain. Do you realize the importance of navigating the rest of this journey?”

“I do.” I answer loud and succinct for no other reason than the fact I don’t want to sound like a coward. Being a failure is bad enough. “I need direction. Why do you keep calling them regions if I end up in what appears to be the same place over and over? And, it’s too difficult to see the enemy. Why aren’t they blue? I think they should be blue.”

A hush falls over the room, then a gentle roll of laughter as though what I had just suggested was for comic relief rather than strategy. I look over my shoulder and spot Gage in the back, Dr. Oliver and Emma on either side like bookends. He nods over to me with a warm smile. I can practically feel him telling me to be strong. 

“The weaponry is always hidden within reach of your person upon arrival,” Delphinius booms. “The delineation of Counts verses those who fight for Celestra is up to the Decision Council—as are all things.” He leers with the curve of a knowing smile. “Now, listen carefully. I’m going to tell you exactly what you need to do to conquer the next region.”

The room flexes and bends, the oxygen depletes before he can utter another word. An arid darkness invades the space and pulls me down through the chair, inhales me right into region six of the faction war.

***

A sodden field appears. I’m seated in a half foot of mud, caked and dirty. Rain falls from the sky, stabbing the smoky hillside with its fury.

“Why?” I scream it out until every cell in me trembles from the effort. Clearly, my mother does not understand the finer points of strategy. Clearly, she doesn’t care whether or not we prosper in this screwed-up endeavor because if she did, she would have waited another ten seconds and let the orator spill the coveted details on how to actually win a region for a fucking change.

“Skyla!” Gage runs up from behind.

“He said the weapons were hidden close to where we land,” I shout up over the storm. Sporadic areas of burnt brush litter the landscape—at least ten bushels within reach. “It could be anywhere.”

Trust only your heart
, my mother’s strange words come back to me at this odd hour, and strangely enough, right about now, my heart is saying, “Don’t trust your mother.” 

“Trust my heart,” I whisper, making my way to the bush straight ahead. “Look,” I shout with laughter. A waterproof backpack with a slick neoprene skin sits tucked in the middle. I reach in and excavate it—six oversized handguns sit inside along with an entire cache of cylinders filled with darts.

“What the hell is this?” Gage takes it from me and inspects the swollen belly of the bag as the rain lets up.

“I think I know.” I pull one out and turn the barrel for inspection. An explosive clap goes off, and a sharp breeze eclipses the hair just shy of my eyes.