“It is, but you and I both know what lies ahead. A fresh beginning is the only realcure.”
“So, I cut mylosses?”
“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 ofus.”
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, toresistthe evil he was wrought from. Gage cannot lose Skyla. That is something he would very much notsurvive.
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, breathingdragon.
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 tofruition.
Skyla and Gage could survive a lot of things, but his reign of wickedness would not be one ofthem.
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 forhim.
Skyla and Gage willsurvive.
Ihope.
2
Fear No Evil
Skyla
New Year’s Evehas always been one of my favorite holidays. No gifts, no expectations, no gluttony, no greed, no need to do hard time with the family. That’s not necessarily true. Back when my father was alive, we held fast to our New Year’s Eve traditions. My mother—Lizbeth—cooked up a boatload of crab and lobsters. I’m not sure why crustaceans were on the menu at the close of each year, but nonetheless, it was a feast we didn’t partake in for the next twelve months. We watched television, and as soon as Dick Clark announced it was midnight, we banged pots and pans loud enough to wake the living and the dead. Back when my father was alive, the promise of a bright new year seemed plausible, possible, and wholly immanent. And after he passed away, each new year felt dim, a regretful waste, unyielding in the horrible ache he left in hiswake.
I scoop Nathan and Barron into my arms. Two tiny perfect beings who I would die for, sacrifice anything for—and just like that, Gage weighs heavy on me like granite. In his mind, I’m sure he thinks he’s done this for us. I can only imagine his reasoning, but I’m quick to push it away. My concern is the welfare and happiness of these twin angels, these dark-haired mini studs that will soon break hearts all over Paragon just like their daddy. Will they love Gage as deeply and spiritually as I love my own father? They must. Deep down, I love Gage that way—the old version, the one I thought I knew. This new version feels more like a disruption than a reality, but the truth is, he is still their father. I want that special bond to form quickly and permanently. If I can’t save Gage from himself—Chloe lights up my mind, and I blow her out like a birthday candle—then these boys will reach him. They will keep him grounded, keep his compass honed to true north, to good and not evil. They must, and they will. With Gage under the cloak of the Steel Barricade, there is no more immediacy to save him than there is now. Demetri’s words come back to haunt me.The hour of the Dragon is upon us. The age of the Serpent has arrived.Gage is a lot of things, but he is no monster. Please, dear God, don’t let it beso.
The boys begin to fuss in turn, and I head downstairs with my tiny crew. I’ve already fed and changed them, but it’s noon and Emma hounded me within an inch of my sanity that she and Gage needed to see the boys today for a visit. I know for a fact she’s already sniffing around Ellis’ legal eagle of a mother because she informed me of this custody drama herself. God,custody. It sounds awful. It sounds like something just south of prison, and if Gage and I can’t make this work, then I’m up for a lifetime of regular separations from my boys. My heart bleeds just thinking of it. There is no way in hell I will ever share custody of my babies—not with their father, not with anyone. I can’t go an hour without missing them. I can’t imagine them being carted off for an entire day—worse yet, an entire weekend. I can see it now. I slave away all week, and Gage and Emma swoop in and take all the fun days. No way. Hell no.Fuckno. Not happening on my partial human, Celestra-blooded, overseer of the Factions celestialwatch.
I clutch the boys extra tight as I descend the stairs and hear a bevy of voices rising in a panic coming from the kitchen—Mom and Tad specifically, but it sounds like a riot even if it is just the two ofthem.
Just as I’m about to break out into a full sprint with the boys in hand, I spot Gage and Emma sitting in the tranquility of the living room—if you can call it that with a week’s worth of old wrapping paper still strewn around the room, a pile of unwanted gifts rotting in the corner, and dear God, has that bowl of eggnog really been sitting out for seven solid days? Emma’s OCD must be silently killing her on theinside.
“Hello,” I say, trying to sound amicable, but as soon as she spots the boys, her face brightens and she’s quick to snatch one from me and hand him off to Gage and then take the other forherself.
“Why hello, little mister! How are you today?” She wiggles her brows into poor Barron’s face until he starts to fidget and cry. “Oh no, you don’t, Mister Fussy Pants! Your grandmother is here to save the day—that’s right. I am saving theday.”
From what pray tell, I want to ask butdon’t.
Gage steps in front of me, and it takes herculean strength to lift my eyes to his, but once I do, my stomach drops straight through thefloorboards.
“I just saw Tad.” He leans in with that hopeful look on his face, and my heart wants to break all over again, but I refuse it the right. “He looks better. You look beautiful.” He tracks my eyes with his, just trying to get a lock on me. Tad spent a few nights in the burn unit but has come right back home with his body bandaged up and his left arm in a straight splint to allow the skin to heal properly. For the most part, he looks as if he kissed the sun and things went horriblywrong.
Gage dips in with a sad smile, and my heart grows heavy as the ocean as I brush back Nathan’s hair in lieu of a thank you. The commotion in the kitchen hits riotous levels, and I nod in that direction before taking off. My heart pounds all the way to the family room as if my own head were on fire. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so heartbroken around Gage before. A part of me wants to shake some sense into him, but another very real part of me knows that once I touch him I won’t want to letgo.
The family room is flooded with the usual suspects, Bree and Drake tossing marshmallows into one another’s mouths as if it were their latest party trick. Ethan with his bare feet on top of D-O-G, Mia’s dog, akaBulletthe oversized living rug, while the equally oversized TV features a bevy of talking heads before they flash to scenes of dark woods from all over the country, New York, Maine, Colorado, NewMexico.
“What’s this?” I lean in, trying to hear what has the news and just about half the country in a tizzy. Normally I would dive straight into that argument, still ripe in the kitchen, but something about those Paragon-esque settings has my nervesjumping.
“Clowns.” Ethan grunts and belches at the very sametime.
“Clowns?” I step in further, and both little Beau Geste and Misty wrap themselves around mylegs.
“Kyla!” Beau gives my shirt a tug. “I went—I went poo poo under the Kissmastee!”
“That’s nice,” I say catatonically as Ethan turns up thevolume.
