Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 7.5) (45 page)

My dress glows like a lamplight as I move into their circle. Baby Beau marvels with approving coos as he tries to pluck every last curl off my head.

“Let me.” Logan offers, taking him from me like he’s already held a thousand infants and I melt at the sight of him with a baby in his arms.

Ellis peers into Beau and lets the baby take a hold of his finger. “Good genes,” he says, pulling back. “So how many kids are we having?” He squeezes a loose grin in my direction.

“Let’s see—no fun, plus one, equals none.” I bat my lashes into him. “You think I can have a word with the gladiators?”

“Sure.” He looks past my shoulder. “I see someone I need to talk to anyway.” He darts over to Chloe and pulls her into the woods.

What’s that about?

Logan and Gage don’t say a word as we back into an overgrown spruce with its trunk flocked in long green whiskers.

A strangled silence crops up. It leaves the three of us looking to the ground, our shoes, baby Beau and his feminine accruements.

We stew in the unnatural tension. It ferments around us, thick and smothering. I can’t recall a single time that we’ve grappled for words, struggled to stand in one another’s presence. I bet this is what it’s going to be like from now on—just the thought nauseates me.

A smile plays on Logan’s lips. It pecks and claws at the edges as he fights to keep it at bay. “I think we should see each other.” Logan’s eyes swell with anticipation as he gently bounces the baby.

“I think we should keep seeing each other.” Gage emphasizes the word
keep
without missing a beat.

For a minute I consider telling them both that I accidentally may have married Marshall tonight, but don’t.

“OK,” I nod, “I’ll see you.” I dart a quick glance into the woods to avert their gaze.

“Which one?” Gage says it low, hesitant.

“Both of you—well, technically, neither of you.” I give a depleted smile. “I want to really dig down deep, no psychical stuff. I want to get to know the two of you better.” What I really want is for all of this to go away. Doesn’t my mother know that choosing between Logan and Gage is too big of a burden for any heart?

“I think digging in deep is a great idea.” Logan pulls me in by the waist and holds me alongside the baby like we’re a family. “I think getting to understand who we are outside of the tug of war for your heart might help you see things clearer.”

“She said nothing psychical.” Gage glares into him.

“We’ll see,” Logan whispers. The baby starts to fuss and he rocks him gently trying to appease him. “I think he’s hungry. I’d better find Brielle. Be right back.”

Actually, Bree’s probably not sporting the slightly deranged equipment the baby requires to satisfy him, but I don’t correct Logan as he makes his way into the crowd.

Gage collapses his arms over me tight like a shield. He presses his face into the side of my neck and inhales like he were coming up for air.

“I thought you agreed—no physical stuff.” I give a dark laugh.

“Hugs don’t count.” He pulls back and takes me in. “But everything about us does.” He slips a smoldering kiss over my lips. Gage isn’t afraid to break the rules where Logan is concerned. “You look amazing.” There’s a marked sadness in his eyes and it kills me to see him this way. “Sorry.” He touches his nose to mine for a moment. “I had to sneak in one last kiss. The thought of not touching you kills me.”

“What’s going to happen to us?” The words speed out of me, desperate and broken. My entire being demands a response.

His dimples dart in and out, creating a swarm of shadows. “I do know what’s going to happen.”

“You do?” There’s a strong comfort in the fact Gage has already touched the nebulous future. “Will it be OK?”

He exhales—his face visibly upset.

“Skyla…” It depresses out of him.

The scenery around us breaks like glass, long shards fall like rain until the old world no longer exists and a new one appears.

The faction war has called us, and I’m about to make sure it’s done so for the very last time.

Chapter 111

This is War

The ethereal plane blooms around us as the landscape fills in. The ground, the sky, the dilapidated buildings, they all wear the same washed-out tones of sepia. A fingerlike shadow falls from a lone pine and fills the expanse I’m standing in.

Gage runs over, his dimples pressed in as if he were proud of what we were about to accomplish. He sears my lips with a kiss and twirls me as if we had accidentally landed in Paradise, left our earthly worries behind for good.

“Ethereal plane doesn’t count either.” He breathes the words over my cheek. “You ready to take this?”

“Damn ready.”

“Logan is up ahead. He wants us to follow him—said he’ll signal if there’s resistance.”

“Where’s Delphinius?”

Gage nods past me at the burnt-out remnants of the bank and I pull him hard across the field without a second thought.

We find the orator himself in a partially charred building, with his enormous back turned to the door.

“How do we get to Ahava?” I cut to the chase as I burst into the room. I’m so sick of all this bullshit. I want to conquer this damn place so I can do something useful like free the people holed up in the tunnels. I try to catch my breath as I assess the fact he’s alone, conferring with a backlit clipboard similar to the one in the Transfer, the tunnels.

Delphinius straightens. His head almost hits the ceiling from the sheer volume he requires. “There will be great bloodshed this day,” he says with a sense of personalized sympathy as if he were consoling me on an intimate level.

“So we’ll have to kill.” Gage expands his chest, ready for the offensive.

“No,” Delphinius corrects, “but they will.”

“Excuse me?”

“Consume Celestra, those are the only orders.”

“Consume Celestra.” I look to Gage. I’m floored my mother would approve of this madness.

Delphinius stretches his long arm across a splintered shelf, retrieving a silver goblet.

“This is from your mother.” His eyes shine with the hint of a smile. He seems so kind and father-like. “She requested you drink the elixir.”

The goblet is round with tiny bulbous protrusions. The stem is comprised of the long leg of a bird with its talon settled over a disc at the bottom, and it reminds me of the haunted mirror crowding Marshall’s living room. “Looks like something from Marshall’s medieval workshop,” I muse, taking the cold steely cup from him.

“Sector Marshall was indeed the craftsman.” He dips in with a knowing smile. “Congratulations once again. You make a fine addition to the noble gentry.”

I cut a quick glance to Gage. I am
so
not going there right now.

A crimson liquid swills in the goblet, thick as nectar. A quiver darts near the bottom. Oh God. There’s something swimming in there.

Thoughts of Isis and her slithery beginnings run through my mind.

“No thanks.” I try to push it back but he won’t take it. “There’s a worm drowning in there. I don’t care if it’s the best tequila in the universe, I don’t want any.”

“It’s Caelestis reserves,” he informs.

Blood? And that’s a selling point, how?

“My mother is a raving lunatic,” I say, watching my reflection wobble in the liquid. “Consume Celestra…” I glance up at Gage. “You think this has anything to do with moving us closer to Ahava?” I know damn well how to get to the next region thanks to Logan and that magic mirror. I should be running instead of wagering whether or not to fortify myself with iron in the worst way possible.

Gage shakes his head—doesn’t say a word.

“Drink, Skyla.” Delphinius raises his enormous hand to encourage me. “The region cannot complete itself unless you do.”

I take a sip and falter. People digest things like worms all the time. It’s practically a rite of passage at universities, the world over, to swallow a live goldfish freshman year. I’m pretty sure Drake and Ethan have swallowed a parasite or two, what with all the bad hygiene and sleazy girlfriends—with the exception of Bree, of course.

I take a heroic swig and pause to assess the damage.

“It’s bitter wine,” I whisper, secretly doing the happy dance. The fact my mother has chosen fermented spirits in favor of the choice drink of Countenance everywhere pleases me to no end. I chug the rest to the dregs, letting the tiny worm slip down my throat and gag twice before setting the cup down with force.

“Excellent,” he says, retrieving the goblet. He wipes down the rim and the inside with meticulous precision. “You’ll feel the effects of your punishment shortly. I’ve already administered a dose to your cohort in depravity.”

“Logan?” My voice sounds faint, muted. Per usual, my mother’s timing is wonderfully ironic. We finally have our act together. We know where the portal to Ahava is. All we need to do is secure the region. It makes me question if the tempest who bore me really wants a Celestra win. Wasn’t eliminating our powers in every single region enough? Blinding me, landing me in the ethereal plane naked whenever she felt the need? And now on the last leg there would be more of her off-brand discipline to contend with. 

“Can Celestra prosper?” I ask as my head fills with a strange sensation, light and airy as the world loses its crispness for a moment. Something is happening…

“Yes.” He turns to Gage. “Celestra can prosper by getting past the enemy. The region waits for you. Go on now, run.” His voice rumbles loud as thunder. “Tread lightly, the enemy hungers for your slaughter.”

Gage takes me by the hand and we step back into the ruins of this false Paragon.

“Shit.” Gage drags the word out in a whisper.

An entire army of soldiers, dressed in fatigues, jog through the area bearing elongated weapons that vaguely resemble rifles. They shout in unison, a strange, haunting cadence that surrounds them in mystery as they travel up the hillside.

The air begins to smolder, the scent of ash and dust burrows in our nostrils.

“They saw us,” Gage marvels, “and they didn’t come—they didn’t try to kill us.”

“They’re not blue.” The Counts would have cast a sickly glow that in this tarnished sunset would be easy to decipher.

An explosion of pain surges from my back. I drop to my knees in agony as volcano-like eruptions spring from my shoulder blades. 

“Skyla?” Gage glances over at me before doing a double take.

Enshrining me on either side, are a pair of pale-blue wings that have sprouted from my body, enormous—disturbingly heavy, gorgeous in every way.

I let out a groan and twist to get a better look. A dull light illuminates from my newfound appendages. I twitch and they lend a powerful clap reminiscent of Nevermore and his enormous wingspan. The plumes ignite, expelling a brilliant glow as sharp as an atomic blast.

The tendrils of my dress animate to life. The tiny filaments hum and vibrate as if Marshall himself had wrapped his arms around me. With these wings, this dress, I’ve become one of them. I can feel the love of the Master pulsate through me like a gift. 

Gage shields his eyes until my newly acquired feathers cease to illuminate.

He gives a sheepish grin.

“What?” I say, staggering to my feet. I’d abandon the heels but I’m pretty sure they’re better than the alternative in this thorny terrain.

“You’re stunning, that’s what.” He leers into me with his cheek curled up on one side—his head dipped low with seduction. “You’re the butterfly I’ve dreamed of a million times—blue as the sky—a creature of beauty all your own.” He sweeps a heated kiss off my lips and pulls back. “I always want to remember you this way. The angel that lived inside my heart for so long is real, and she’s you.” 

I wrap my arms around Gage and bury my face in his chest. Gage dreamed of wings, of butterflies, an angel—and here I am, decorated in all my ethereal glory—a surprise to even me.  

“It’s going to be impossible to move like this.” I fan out my arms. It feels like I have a bookshelf strapped to my back.

“It’s your mother’s idea.”

“You’re right,” I whisper. I step out and throw my arms out. “So this is the big punishment?” I balk at the sky as the sound of mortar shells stop abruptly as if frightened by my audacity. A peal of thunder ignites so deafening in nature that the ground quakes with its fury.

The air grows frigid, as biting pelts of hail assault us from above.

OK, I don’t think we’re communicating well. It’s not like I wanted her to outdo herself in the big bad bitch category, but I’d say for sure she’s giving Chloe a run for her money.

“It is a punishment, Skyla.” Logan staggers over from behind a building as the hail lets up to nothing.

“Logan!” I drag myself along the dirt-covered road with the lead weights strapped to my back. His shirt is soaked with blood. A crimson trail leads over his shoulders. “What happened?” I whisper, alarmed by his injuries.

“I ripped them out.” He winces in pain.

“Why?” I touch my hand to his wound, horrified at the dark gloss covering my fingers.

“It’s a target,” Gage says, herding the two of us into the shell of a nearby building. The outer wall is comprised of smooth stones in browns and blues, and I try to map out which building downtown this might have been.

Bodies start to fill in the land. The ground turns to dust, parched and cracking as if the hail was nothing more than a hallucinatory effect. The soothing sound of the storm has been replaced with the crash of mortar shells and loud booms of thunder from a shotgun blast.

A swarm of grenades hit the region. The ground comes to life, bouncing and thrashing as we try to steady ourselves. It shakes us from the building like ragdolls, landing Gage fifteen feet out in the field. He lies motionless on the ground, open for scrutiny by the enemy with his skin as pale as milk.

“Skyla.” Logan heaves as the walls crumble around us. He pushes me out of the way with a powerful shove and gets his arm pinned under a piece of metal rebar.

Logan lets out a groan and tries to yank himself free, but ends up stripping a portion of his flesh from the elbow down.