“Oh, for shit’s sake,” I hiss. “Marshall, I can see right through these people. You can’t let them out of this barn. You have humans in the house who won’t know what to make of this.”
Logan moans like he might be sick as he looks to his left and I follow his gaze, only to be met with an entire handful of the celestial beings hovering four feet off the ground.
“Dudley,” Logan growls. “Fix this.”
“What’s to fix?” Marshall crosses his arms, resting his chin on his hand in observation. “I think we’re through with pretenses, Ms. Messenger. No walls, no cumbersome bodies to hoist around. It really is a freeing sensation. Besides, it’s your mother’s brainchild.”
I’m almost afraid to ask. “Which mother?”
“Both really. Lizbeth dreamed up the idea of a phantasmic Christmas, and Candace brought the phantasms. So you see—it’s quite the collective effort.”
“No more pretenses,” I say under my breath. “I feel that to my bones.”
A woman in a mint green ball gown floats to the ceiling like a helium balloon and then right through it. A small crowd migrates toward the door, floating ever so higher as they hit the exit.
“Oh God.” My stomach churns just watching the gentry disperse as if there were something malevolent chasing them out of the room, and then I see it. The sound of a screaming meteor, something sharp and completely supernatural, eardrum rattling, bone-shattering screams pass us as the light in the center of the barn magnifies to inhuman levels. Standing in a semi-circle, completely absorbed in a conversation of their own are Jack and Julie Oliver—Logan’s parents—and mine, Candace and Nathan Messenger.
“Daddy.” It comes out lower than a whisper, afraid I might startle myself and awake from this glorious dream.
His face lights up when he sees me, and I’m on him in a moment, my arms snug around his body. And unlike those phantasms, he feels and looks every bit real.
“Skyla.” He buries a kiss in my hair, and I can feel the warmth from his mouth on my scalp. He pulls back with those happy-to-see-me-yet-veiled-in-grief watery blue eyes. “I’m sorry that you’re having such a hard time of it. Understand that this is your—”
“Destiny,” I finish the word for him. “I know. And for the first time, I really accept this. I suppose it’s too late now. Things aren’t going as planned but—”
“They will.” He steals the words from me with a smile.
My mother offers an affable nod my way. “The Olivers are embracing, my dear.” Her lips flicker with a pained smile. I glance back to see Logan and his parents enjoying a spirited reunion before smirking back at my mother.
“Normally, I’m not that enthused to see you.” No use in skirting around the truth. “But knowing what waits for me back in that house, I can use a hug from my mommy.” I flick my fingers, and Candace floats over with a chortling laugh as she wraps her arms around me while looking every bit like my double. Her body is more or less an idea at the moment, but those vibrations of hers penetrate to my core and it indeed feels like love.
Logan steps back and wraps an arm around my shoulder as we take the four of them in.
Logan’s mother, Judy, has strawberry blonde locks curled near the bottom and the ringlets sit neatly around her shoulders. She’s young. My God, she looks younger than me, and she’s a stunner with her smooth features and sharp eyes. His father is a looker, a younger version of Barron with a little Logan and his brother, Liam, mixed in for good measure.
Logan lifts a hand in their direction. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Merry Christmas!” I trill while hopping on my toes as if it just occurred to me why we might be standing in the same airspace on such a festive night.
The tips of my mother’s hair spark and flicker with the threat of flames. “Yes, the birth of our Savior is a blessed occasion, but we’re here for an equally blessed occasion.” She pulls my father in for a partial embrace. “We’re here to officiate your union, Skyla.”
“What union?” Anything chipper left in me up and disappears. “As in the state of the union? You mean the state of the Factions?”
Logan blows out a breath as his arm falls to his side. “I think she means our union, Skyla.”
Judy’s face brightens with an incandescent glow. “That’s right! It’s your wedding day.” She claps her hands together as if she were praising the heavens. “You don’t know how much I wished to be at the last covenant the two of you partook in, but we were told to choose wisely.” She points to Candace and wrinkles her nose adorably. “We could only witness one.”
My mouth falls open as I look to my mother, stunned. “Is that what this is about? You’re here to see me wed Logan? Here? In a barn? Tonight? Not a month after I had my heart pressed through a strainer? It’s still lying on the ground like hamburger, by the way. So, no thank you.” I offer an apologetic look to Jack and Judy. “I’m afraid you’ve come a great distance for nothing.”
“Skyla!” my mother snips, her countenance quickly piquing with color. “It’s only a matter of time. I suggest this happens sooner than later. Do not disrespect the royal gentry. Indeed they have traveled afar to witness the blessed event.”
“You mean spectacle. Mother, Logan and I aren’t even there emotionally.”
“He is,” she bites the words through the air, and it only enrages me to hear her raise her tone this way.
“You meanyouare,” I snip right back.
“He loves you, Skyla,” she riots back, her body closing the gap between us.
