“Ms. Messenger—Ms. Bishop.” He nods to the two of us before his crimson gaze narrows to mine with the slight look of disappointment. It’s technicallyMrs. Oliverand Mrs. Edinger—Marshall knows that all too well. He’s simply in the business of disparaging our marital status, thus reducing us to the monikers of yesteryear while we were still his charges at West Paragon High. Everything seemed so easy back then. But the nickname makes me feel nostalgic for all things past. That must be why I rarely fight him on it. “What in the world—let me rephrase this—who in the universe has brought you this far and why?” He glances over my shoulder. “Where is your nasty supervisingspirit?”
I’m assuming he’s talking to Chloe, considering her nasty supervising spirit is Demetri—nastybeing the operativeword.
“Skyla is the spirit who whisked us out to never-never land.” Chloe offers a smug grin at the women who seem to be steadily amassing around us. “And quite successfully so. What the hell are we doing here, Messenger?” She slaps away the hand of an aggressive onlooker who’s doing her best to fondle the fabric of Chloe’sjeans.
“Ms. Messenger.” Marshall takes me by the elbow and stalks us off toward a room in the back. “I’d like a word with you inprivate.”
“By all means.” I shoot Chloe a look as she continues her slapping spree with the grabby hands surrounding her. “God, wouldn’t that be great if Chloe ended up in some seventeenth-century dungeon? To the tower with her!” I laugh while shouting over the lunatic-inspired piano music. I swear on all that is holy, it sounds just like that annoying player piano back at Marshall’sestate.
“Whose ghost do you think haunts those keys, Skyla?” Marshall lands us in a dark corner, and oddly enough the scent of his cologne, the girth of his chest, that angry yet lewd smile twitching on his lips is every bit just the way I know him centuries later—cuttingly gorgeous to afault.
“You can hear me.” I sigh into the ideadreamily.
“Of course, I can hear you. I’m touching your flesh.” He gifts my elbow a quick squeeze. “What’s going on here? This isn’t your time or your place. In fact, I’ll go as far as saying this isn’t any of your business. Where are Jock Strap and the Pretty One?” He grunts, craning his neck past me. “Is this some sort of interdimensional takeover? Of what use is any ofthis?”
“Trust me, I have no idea. Chloe and I were in the Transfer and we rode out on these majestic beasts. There was this tunnel ofstars—”
“Tunnel of stars?” The cords in his neck jump. “Who gifted you thesebeasts?”
“They were just there.” Marshall’s familiar scent envelops me and I lean in if for nothing else but the comfort of home. “I instinctually understood they were forme.”
“And Ms. Bishop?” His features harden as if I’ve purposefully unleashed a demon, and I might have. “What possessed you to schlep her along for theride?”
“I have no one else, Marshall,” I hiss so fast, it comes out like athreat.
“What about me?” He glides his finger over the curve of my cheek and a fire sizzles along with his touch. A strong vibration, like that of a tuning fork, rides through my bones, quivering down to that tender part of me that has secretly craved him from the beginning. Marshall has always held the ability to incite me without putting in much effort. And I frown at him because I happen to know he heard. “I have crossed oceans, continents, ethereal planes, and left the heavenlies for you, my dear—and still you give me noconsideration?”
“Not true. I consider you just a notch above the enemy. It was you who showed me that dreadful sight tonight. You stood by my side while you-know-who drank Celestra blood—most likely mine by the way—before locking himself in a covenant with the dark side. Which means you could have easily revealed Demetri’s nefarious plan earlier in the day, and I could have talked some sense into that stubborn ass I married.” Still can’t seem to bring myself to say hisname.
“Skyla.” He inches back a good foot. “I could no more deter what happened than you could. Don’t embroil me in your anger. Be glad I’m not above revealing the intentions of others—timely as they are. I have no alliances other thanyou.”
“You have the Sectors.” Marshall is Sector of the highest order. The Sectors have outranked the Fems ever since—I suck in a breath. “Hey, isn’t this the century where the Sectors and theFems—”
He brings his finger to my lips and navigates us farther into the back where another little alcove reveals a tawdry looking stage and women flashing their granny panty fannies to an audience of inebriated, drooling men. It’s then that I notice a large burly looking stick that rises from floor to ceiling in which each of the fanny bearing girls in question takes it for aspin.
“Dear God, is that apole?”
“Yes, Ms. Messenger.” He grunts while taking in the scene. “Of all the things human men can spend their time engineering, they build poles for naked women to spin on.Poles. Glorified sticks for topless dancing girls. Man hasn’t moved all that far from his barbarous beginnings. A naked woman is still the greatest enchantress to the beasts inquestion.”
I scan the vicinity at the room full of scantily clad women and frown. “My favorite Sector hasn’t moved all that far from his barbarous beginningseither.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him in close as if we were a couple. Marshall would love for us to be one, and according to my candy apple mother in the sky, we eventually will be. “There is a spiritual battle brewing here.” I raise an eyebrow in lieu of a wicked grin. “This is where you turned the tide, and now the Sectors rule over theFems!”
“Hush,” he says it so sweetly, so seductively, something in me trembles deep inside. “You have it backward. The Fems turn us over for a time—and then, of course, we come through victorious.” He gives a little wink. “But there is another war brewing, Skyla. And it percolates aroundyou.”
A vision of me challenging Gage tonight at the christening comes to mind. I declared a new war, one between the Fems and my people—and I declared it would begin with him. My heart breaks at what’s transpired betweenus.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I shake my head while plucking Marshall off me. “If that’s what this little visit is about, you can forget it!” I shout to the ceiling for my mother. God knows she’s listening. I all but have a twenty-four seven homing device hardwired into my genes, and most likely she’s the only way out of this seventeenth-century screw-up. “Yes, I declared war against the Fems, but if I’m being honest, we both know how that last war turned out. And for what? I’m not sure I should be stepping in that pile of dog shit onceagain.”
The Logan lookalike with the cigar passes behind Marshall and offers me a smile curated from sorrow. His eyes lock with mine before he evaporates deeper into the smokyroom.
“Skyla,” Marshall balks. “You have no say in the matter. What Jock Strap has done is a well-placed chess move by the enemy. They are after you, my queen. They are looking to remove your knight from his sublime position.” His lips curl up at the edges, proud of his own euphemisms. “The Sectors must remain. If you disagree in any capacity, I bid you to imagine what a world under Fem rule would resemble. Humans would lose many vital freedoms. The Factions would lose all rights, all control. There would be one law, one sage—or should I sayGage, that should and will beobeyed.”
“He would never do that. He would never commit to evil.” The words garble as I struggle to evict them from my throat because Gage has already doneit.
“Skyla.” Marshall wipes a lone tear from my cheek that I hadn’t even realized I shed. “This war”—he nods over his shoulder as if referencing the Sectors and the Fems—“it was never over. My victory is short-lived, relatively speaking. Your victory has the ability to lastforever.”
“A war.” It comes out in less than a whisper, and the entire room seems to strum around me like aharp.
