“Oh, Skyla, but the passion he poured out. It was all for you.” Her breathing picks up just thinking about it. “And regarding Gage”—she glances out the window at the papery fog filtering through the branches of the evergreens—“he has been well deceived.”
My heart thumps with glee just hearing her affirm it.
“Any thought on how I might make him see the light?”
She glances to the ceiling. “He’s terrified of losing you. The thought of eternal separation, it’s something he simply can’t risk. You’ll figure out a way, I’m sure. And when you do—”
“All will be right with the Nephilim world.”
She shakes her head. “Haven’t you been paying attention? If Gage ever comes around, there will be hell to pay.”
“There always is.”
Rory frowns a moment as she looks into my eyes. “I want you to know something. This body, Melody’s body, has had that inoculation you’re handing out.”
“Good,” I say. “That means your angelic markers are hidden from the world. You’ll be safe for a long time to come.”
She gives a single nod. “Remember that.”
She hurdles the cereal boxes and runs off into the night.
“Rory!” I shout after her. “I love you!”
She stops cold and turns around as a glowing blue butterfly flutters around her head.
“I love you, too, Skyla Messenger! I really do.”
And just like that, the Paragon fog swallows her whole.
The news over the next few days is stratospherically alarming on every level. The worldwide death toll is staggering. So many souls sent into eternity, businesses decimated, economies collapsing like dominos. I’ve summoned the Retribution League to Marshall’s estate each and every day. A few extras have been included, but mostly it’s Brody, Ellis, Wes, Coop, Laken, Ezrina, Nev, Em, Michelle, Nat, Liam—even Rev and Mia have decided to join the effort along with Logan and myself. Emerson came late, and Holden and Serena have been perched in the branches in Marshall’s backyard, amused by our antics for the most part.
It’s the dead of winter, fat soot-covered clouds squat over the island as if they were ready to piss all over us, and I have no doubt they’re ready to do just that. The fog is swirling around us like poltergeists, like those ghostly dwellers in the Transfer that we haven’t seen since Wesley abandoned his home in that realm that was gifted to the Counts. The earth is raw and damp from last night’s torrential downpour, and the smell of animal dung permeates our senses. It’s safe to say the corral and the stables on the grounds are in need of a cleaning.
I look out at the crowd of friendly faces. Of course, Lexy is here as well, teaching us all dutifully how to bind a Fem with the best of them. It’s something she’s taught in the past, but I thought it was best we get a refresher course. And Marshall has contributed greatly himself—so much so that it makes me worry for him.
Sectors and Fems aren’t allowed to get down and dirty with the Faction wars, and this is a war in every sense of the word. Gage is some supposed exception because he was born of a Nephilim mother. He’s a half-breed within a half-breed—much like myself.
No, Marshall may not be able to fight this war, but he’s outfitting us nicely. Upstairs, in his closet, he has that old dress he gave me that once belonged to Marlena Bishop way back in the seventeenth century. Marshall gifted it to me for a formal a few years back that I attended while I was still a student at West, and it has the capability to bind a Fem all on its own. You can bet your bottom fashionista-dollar I’ll be wearing it when we lure Gage and his minions to Rockaway.
It can also tell a binding spirit to piss off, so it’s multi-functional properties are invaluable. It’s gorgeous, with a purple and black corset and a blooming tulle mesh skirt that only seems to have grown since the last time I’ve donned this supernatural temperamental frock.
Marshall has also generously gifted us unlimited access to his cache of spirit swords. We have enough for each of us, but there’s only one that can completely disable a Fem. I want Logan to have that one. If Gage so much as smells it on me, it’s game over. I’m not sure what he’ll think of my dress, but I don’t for a minute think that Gage is susceptible to a routine Fem binding now that he’s been resurrected. No. For him we’ll have to get far more creative, or at least I will.
“Ms. Messenger.” Marshall strides my way, looking unnervingly handsome. I’m not sure if he’s turning up the handsome heat or if it’s the effect of carrying this sweet baby in my belly.
Honest to God, I can’t get enough of Logan Oliver’s body these days. I can’t get him deep enough inside of me, deep enough inside of my mouth. All of my most delicate bits and pieces quiver for him all day long. I’m insatiable, relentless in my pursuit of his flesh.
Marshall lifts a brow. “You are an open book to me, Ms. Messenger. Know that if The Pretty One is unable to satisfy you, my chamber doors are always open.”
Logan crops up and scowls at the Sector among us.
“Dudley, keep your celestial snake in your zoot suit.” Logan wastes no time in setting him straight. “It’s not needed. I can handle my wife.”
I make a face at him and he winces.
“Sorry, Skyla. That’s not quite what I meant.”
Marshall nods. “I’m not here to start strife among the happy couple. I’m simply trying to inform you that the Gas Lab has catered lunch.”
