Throne of Fire (Celestra Forever After Book 5) by Addison Moore
“What’s going on?” I scoot in close. “What do you know?”
Chloe butts her hand into my shoulder with zero regard for the red tutu-sporting baby in my arms, and Alice hisses at her. My God, this child is wise beyond her years.
Chloe leers at Ezrina. “I essentially told her the same thing. Consider yourself warned, Messenger.”
“Consider yourself on the brink of banishment.”
Laken chokes as if I had threatened to banish her instead. “Unless you’re banishing her to the Transfer, you may not harm Tobie’s mother.”
“Laken”—I can’t help but glance to the sky—“you are truly certifiable these days.” My irritation with her is growing in leaps and bounds.
“And on that note”—Laken jostles baby Charlie—“I think we’ll go home. Chloe, do you see Gage? He’s my ride back to the Transfer.”
Chloe cranes her neck. “I’d like to ride him myself.”
“Laken, I’m sorry.” I’m quick to grovel. “Please stay. My head is spinning. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did,” she smarts, flagging down my better half, and both Wes and Gage head this way.
“Okay, I did.” I grimace a moment. “But you know I love you to pieces.”
“Everyone loves me to pieces these days,” she growls as she spots Coop jogging our way as well.
“I don’t.” Chloe brandishes her whip at me and winks. “I don’t love anyone to pieces—with the exception of—” She lashes her whip toward Gage, and I pull him in before she can leash him.
“My husband.” I press a kiss over his lips. I don’t care about semantics. Gage Oliver and I are still very much married in our hearts. God, that sounds so egregiously cheesy.
“That’s me.” He hooks his arm around my waist. “You ready to split?” He nods to Laken.
“The sooner the better.” Laken gifts Wes a quick peck before leaning over and doing the same with Coop.
“Dear God. Help us all,” Chloe moans. “Messenger, your work here is done. We’ve got another ménage on our hands.”
Sadly, I agree with her.
Ezrina steps in. “Laken stays. I have a sitter for the wee ones.”
“No way.” Laken steps next to Wes for protection, I assume. Little does she know it’s Wes she needs protecting from.
Ezrina glares at her. “I insist.”
Melissa swoops in dressed like a girl version of Frankenstein’s monster and scoops up Alice. “I’m ready to roll. Stay out as late as you want. I really don’t care. This is the last place on Earth I want to be.”
“Are you going back to the house?” I’m half-tempted to send the boys with her. I saw Nathan tugging on his ear, and that never ends well. If I can get the boys to bed early, I might stave off a month’s worth of sleepless nights.
“Yup,” she snarls at Marshall’s overgrown estate. “The bride and groom just showed up and I want no part of this freak show. “Mom is cutting out early, too. She’s bringing all the other twerps with her.” She presses a kiss over Alice’s head. “Don’t worry, kid. You’re not a twerp.”
“Will you take baby Charlie? She’s a newborn.” I offer up Laken’s child like the evening sacrifice and Laken is quick to rescue her.
“A newborn? Heck yes!” Melissa’s eyes widen as if a newborn were the exact panacea she’d need tonight to make her forget about the matrimonial carnage about to ensue.
“Wes?” Laken shakes her head at him.
“I approve.” He pulls Laken in as if he owned her, and sadly he sort of does at this point. I’m afraid all that I’m going to wait until after the holidays to decide business is for the birds.
“I approve, too,” Coop offers. “That way you can spend more time with me.”
Laken chortles. “I would love that. But this will be the first time I’m away from her.”
“Don’t worry.” Gage carefully extricates the baby from her arms. “I’ll put her in our room. I’ve got a camera right on the crib, and you can watch her on Skyla’s phone the entire night.” He blesses me with a kiss. “I need to change. I’ll be right back.”
Laken rattles off an entire litany of instructions while Melissa takes her diaper bag.
“Don’t you dare change,” I whisper to the handsome cape-less crusader in front of me.
“I’m chaffing,” he winces. “Trust me, you don’t want that. Besides, I’m coming back in something that’s guaranteed to turn your engine.”
“Wow, you’ve whet my appetite. Now hurry up and get back. My engine is already purring for you.”
Gage and Melissa take off, and Cooper seems to have herded Laken over a few feet while the two of them share a quick laugh. Now it’s just Ezrina and me with a couple of assholes—Wes and Chloe.
“Well, Rina, who should we slaughter first? Rumor has it, there’s a new moon tonight, and the Counts do require a sacrifice.”
“Chloe.” Ezrina bleeds her dark smile, and I can’t help but laugh.
“You are a brilliant woman.”
Chloe glowers at me. “And you are an idiot.”
“This again.” I look to Wes. “Please talk some sense into Laken. I’m ready and willing to send Chloe to Tenebrous forever.”
Wes inches back. “And do that to Ingram? You really are cruel.”
“Funny.” I glance back at the house and spot a crowd gathered around Emily. She’s doling out her haunted predictions by the dozens tonight, I’m assuming. A familiar blonde bride snags my eye. “I’d better go slap some sense into my sister.”
“Is that all it takes?” Chloe snips. “I’ve got two hands I can put to good use.”
I look to Wes a moment. “You do realize your brother and I are weeks away from a historical peace treaty. Is there something I should be concerned with?”
Wes shoots a dark look to the woods enshrined in fog and shakes his head. “Nothing to write home about.”
“Liar,” Ezrina breathes the word out in a plume before stalking off in Marshall’s direction.
I take a step back toward Wes. “I swear, if you are lying to me—to Gage, I will throw you into the pit of hell myself along with your ex, the only woman you should ever be near.”
His gaze narrows in on mine, evaluating me with a marked scrutiny. “It sounds like you know the way.”
“I should. Laken gave me a road map.” I take off for my sister. I have zero qualms about outing Laken’s foray into spying to Wes. It’s about time he starts to see that she’s already turned on him—she just doesn’t realize it yet.
Chloe zooms in by my side. “All right, Messenger”—she grips my arm so hard I can feel the blood vessels bursting from the pressure—“Dudley doesn’t dick around.”
I snatch my arm back. “I’d say I was sorry you didn’t get laid, but I really don’t care. I have a sister—”
“To let down.” She snaps me into submission with her ferocious tone. “Look, Skyla, he told my brother we should brace for war at any moment.”
I take a breath as I glance around the estate. Night has fallen hard, and every boy and ghoul on the island has migrated to this haunted locale, filling Marshall’s yard with a sexed-up version of every costume known to man.
“I’ll make a note of it.” And then burn it. It’s not happening. With Gage and me in charge, the Factions may never get the war they fear. “Look, my sister is about to make the biggest mistake of her life. So if you don’t mind, I have a real issue to deal with. If you want to make yourself useful—do whatever it takes to stop this wedding.”
Her eyes flit into the woods behind me. “Why would Marshall lie?”
“For the same reason you’re constipating my life with bullshit. Neither of you wants to see me with Gage. Chloe—Gage and I are Celestra’s only hope. Don’t you see? With the two of us at the helm, even life with you on the planet will be tolerable.”
She shakes her head, her gaze still lost in those woods. “I’m not leaving your side. I feel a shitstorm ready to spray all over our world.”
“You’re implying I can’t trust Gage.”
She snaps her attention my way. “The easiest way to knife your enemy is while she’s coming in for an embrace. Face it, Messenger, he was bred to plunge a sword right through your heart. And, believe me, if that was the worst of it, I’d be cheering him on. But this involves me.”
“Please, you don’t care about Celestra.”
“I live for Celestra, you nitwit,” she hisses. “It’s you I don’t care about.”
“I’m familiar with this song, and I don’t care to hear it tonight. And you’re the last person I want glued to my side.” My anger flares to dizzying heights that only Chloe can sponsor.
“Fine then. If you don’t have anything for me to do, I’ll go hang out with my friends.”
“You have no friends.” A thought comes to me as I pull her back by the latex elbow. “But I think there is something you can do for me. Find out who hacked off my husband’s head. The entire island is here tonight, and something tells me that asshole is in this number.”
“And then what?”
“And then we’re going to make use of that cache of weaponry Marshall has collecting dust in the nethersphere.”
“Oh goody.” She hitches a wicked brow. “One nitwit is getting married.”
I nod to her. “And one nitwit is getting murdered.”
“Sounds like we’re about to have some real fun tonight.”
“Only you, Chloe. Only you.” I ditch the bitch and mix with the crowd, just soaking in this crazy haunted fest that has a way of unifying the masses under the pretense of costumes and candy. It’s a perfect night really. The entire island has packed itself into Marshall’s estate, and oddly it makes it feel as if we are all one big happy Paragon family. I wave at Vanessa Watts whom I’ve grown to both love and admire like mad over the last year alone. I can’t believe how patient she and her husband Ivan are with the Faction youth as they endure hours and hours of training with them each week. They are the best for a reason. I can hardly wait until the boys are old enough to take instruction from them. It’s not only a great way to practice skills, but a natural environment to meet with other Faction members their age.
Things have improved leaps and bounds from the time I was a kid. I was literally left in the dark. Logan and Gage had to educate me on all things Nephilim for goodness’ sake. And who could keep anything they said straight with all those raging hormones? No more closet angels, at least not among ourselves.
She gives a little wave back before embroiling herself in the conversation Nicholas Haver is orchestrating. Ivan is at rapt attention as are Lionel Jenson and Cannon Stark, the global and local chapter leaders of Noster respectively. I made it a point to share the good news about my upcoming nuptials and what it means with the Factions last week at our meeting. Gage and I will marry at the exact intersection where our birthdays collide, and peace is guaranteed to the Factions for seven years—and beyond. My mother will come around by then. The Factions get peace. I get my family. Gage and I remain husband and wife—with my powers fully restored. All ends well. We will break the cycle of hate and war among our people through the very thing the world was built on, love.
A body bumps into me from behind, and I turn abruptly only to find Bree dressed in a—“Holy shit, Bree.” I pinch my eyes closed a moment. “Please tell me that’s not real.” A dress sewn together with nothing but one hundred dollar bills outfits her body, tight, ingloriously tight and perversely short—although in that respect, it cost much less to produce.
“Of course, it’s real. You like?” She does a little spin, and I spot Drake behind her wearing a sports coat to match.
“Oh my God!” I stagger back as if he just pulled the pin on a grenade—and he might have, one sent over by Uncle Sam. “Are you insane?” My hands tap over her waist and up her boobs, just begging for the bills to prove themselves counterfeit. My God, if they are, Drake and Bree have a fabulous printing machine that I may want to utilize soon myself.
Ellis bops his way next to her. “That’s what I’m talking about. Girl on girl!” He lets out a whoop and toasts us with his beer.
“Shut up, Ellis,” I pant, rubbing my thumbs inadvertently over Bree’s nipples. “These are real!”
Bree leans in. “I’ve had some work done, but I thought I told you that.” She slaps my hands away. “And would you knock it off? You’re getting me going. Drake already blew his wad behind the bushes when we got here.”
My feet jump back as I retch hard between us. “Stop.” I hold up a hand. “I promise I won’t touch you ever again. Just spare me the details.” I take her in as Benjamin Franklin’s face stares at me with that disapproving smirk. Trust me, it’s Bree he should be glaring at. “How? Why? Hey—Marshall wouldn’t happen to have any more of these in the bushes, would he?”
She flicks her wrist at me. “Oh, honey, Dudley has gifted me things that have made me cry out in ecstasy, but money never changed hands. This was all the work of that fabulous father-in-law of yours.” She swivels her hips.
“You robbed the morgue!” Truly, Drake and Bree are not above a little breaking and entering, so this doesn’t surprise me entirely. They’re desperate for money. They’ve been running in the negatives for months. Not to mention there were rumors of a prison sentence swirling that put the entire Landon house on edge.
“Demetri,” she says it flat, disappointed that I didn’t do the demented math. “He paid off our debts, our lawyers, and the judges. Then as an added bonus, he lined our bank accounts with emerald paper. Thus, Mr. and Mrs. Oz.” She takes a mock bow, and my jaw drops at the revelation.
“What did he want in exchange?” My heart thumps wild. Rarely does Demetri do something so charitable out of the goodness of that thimble-sized heart.
Bree grimaces a moment as she shoots a quick look to the empty spot where Gage and I were standing a few minutes earlier. “Nothing.” A look of grief sweeps over her features as she lunges over and plants a kiss on my cheek. “You’re my favorite person, Skyla, but I can’t go to jail. I don’t look good in orange, and I really don’t care for girl-on-girl action.” She snatches Drake by the arm, and they take off for the woods.
“Huh.” Certainly there’s more to the slush fund story, but I’ll deal with that later.
I take off for Emily as the crowd dwindles around her, and there’s not a sign of Mia around.
“Crap. Em, have you seen my sister?” I scan the area and spot a dark-headed Goth princess looking every bit like the corpse she is—Emerson Kragger. Dear God, she has slipped through the celestial cracks again. A sinister thought occurs to me. My mother doesn’t make errors. Emerson very much has a role to play, and the hair on the back of my neck rises just contemplating what that might be. Candace Messenger doesn’t let a corpse walk and talk unless she means business.
“Which sister?” Emily grunts, her hand in flight as she corrupts the poster-sized page with color while a group of younger girls giggle at the sight.
“The certifiable one.”
“She’s getting trashed with her groom-to-be.”
“Perfect.” At this rate Mia will be black-out drunk by the time Marshall steps up to marry the morons. It’s the best-case scenario, really. I’m just about to take off for Ezrina and Laken when Em yanks me back by my oversized belt.
“I’ve got one for you.” A horrible groaning evicts from her throat as if she might barf, sending the giggling girls and everyone else in the vicinity running for vomit-free pastures.
“Let go.” I’m quick to swat her away. “I don’t want it.”
Another horrific groan works its way up her throat as Nat and Lexy gather around for the show.
“It’s always clear as mud,” I assure the harem of pussycats amassing around me. “Last time it was just one big red blotch.”
Lexy grunts, “Sort of like the big red blotch Gage left on the dance floor last year? That was pretty gruesome. I’d be leery of the color red altogether.”
<
Em hands it over, her dead stare set on mine. “This is happening soon.”
“Oh my God, this is fabulous,” I gasp. I happen to have firsthand knowledge that Gage and I will set his throne room on fire once we get down to the nitty-gritty over that stone of sacrifice his dear old demented dad set out for him.
“What’s so fabulous about it?” Nat snickers as she leans into my personal space vying for a better view of Em’s latest and greatest. It really is the greatest.
“This represents my upcoming wedding night with Gage Oliver. Basically, we’re hotter than a thousand degree inferno in bed, so it only makes sense.”
Nat squawks like a duck, and I’m tempted to deck her, but Lex nods as if she too thought my wild rendition was applicable.
“Logan and I will be heating the sheets as well in honor of your union. I have a few tricks up my sleeve to comfort the poor boy on that woeful yet wonderful night.”
“I bet you do.”
Em pops up and examines her work with me. “That’s you, right there.” She points to a faint dusting of lines in the center. “That’s your face, your eyes. Those are your hands outstretched.”
“Oh my God,” Lexy gags. “Skyla, you look like you’re in pain. Exactly what does that boy do to you in bed?”
“What?” I pull the picture in closer. “That can’t be right.” I try my hardest not to see it, but like one of those illusionary pictures, the background suddenly morphs into foreground and there I am—anguished and screaming in the fire. The pain on my cartoonish face is so visceral I actually feel sorry for myself. Just behind me, larger than my entire body, stands what seems to be a two-headed snake. It’s so alarming and startling it makes me gasp at the sight of it. “It’s probably not a big deal,” I say as the words string from me numbly. “I mean, I probably forgot something blue, or my bouquet. Brides are forever freaking out about the most minuscule thing.”