No sooner does he get the words out than the backyard drains, and soon we’re all noshing on foot-long sandwiches while sitting around in Marshall’s expansive living room.
The fireplace is blazing, and just above that the television is on, as the news plays in the background. The conversation in the room quiets down to nothing as we strain to hear what they might be saying. We enjoy our food while watching with morbid fascination as our world is transformed into a mash-up of a horror and science fiction novel. If there were an author at the helm of this terror, I’d pluck them out of their cushy little home and rattle them until they wrote a happy ending for every living soul on this planet, or at least the ones involved in my story. But as it stands, the author of this catastrophe is Gage—his motivation is our love. I believe that would qualify this as a tale of the grotesque and arabesque. Poe originally penned those, but Gage isn’t doing so badly at his hand at it either. He always was an overachiever.
Holden swoops in low and steals a piece of bread that Emerson picked off for him before he flies back to the top of Marshall’s bookshelf to share the bounty with his pale-feathered bride.
Emerson strides my way, looking like the Goth princess she is. She has a shock of black hair and eyes that siren out like blue warning lights among all that dark makeup she has smeared around them.
“We’re going to nail these bastards to a wall, Skyla,” she says. “I can feel it. And after you get your victory—and you will—I’m heading to paradise for good.” She shrugs. “So let’s get the V so I can go home and get some rest. The Gas Lab is freaking killing me.”
A warm laugh bumps through me. “Let’s get the V.”
Michelle grunts, “So help me God, if one of those birds shits on me, I’ll bite their heads off.”
Michelle is fully human. Not an ounce of Nephilim in her, and yet after a few attempts of trying to explain the Factions to her, she’s finally a believer. She can’t do much as far as helping out with Operation Detain the Damn Fems endeavor, or Dark Horse as it were, but she wants to be a part of it somehow, and for that I commend her. It’s a bit odd seeing her and Liam sitting at opposite ends of the room. Even though their marriage was short-lived, it still breaks my heart on some level.
And, of course, Lexy Bakova isn’t one to let a Logan Oliver knockoff go to waste. Although technically, Liam came first, so I guess Logan would be the knockoff. Nevertheless, Lexy hasn’t stopped drooling over him.
Logan sighs as all eyes remain glued to the talking head on TV, and Ellis turns it up a notch to drown out Michelle’s moaning regarding the birds she’s so afraid of.
“Nine hundred thousand deaths worldwide,” the muscles in Logan’s jaw flinch as he says it. I have no doubt it sickened him to get the words out.
Marshall sharpens his eyes my way. “The enemy is merely serving up an appetizer. The Black Plague killed over twenty-five million. Demetri’s black heart knows no bounds when it comes to achieving his end goal.”
“And what’s that?” Michelle asks, batting her hand mindlessly over her head in the event Holden is ready to unload that sandwich in a creative manner.
“Power.” Lexy bites into her meatball sub with a marked aggression as if she were fueling up before the big takedown. And considering the fact her methods of binding a Fem require copious amounts of fury, I say rage up.
“Love.” The word slips from my lips like the dark secret it is, and only Laken seems to be paying attention.
“Did you saylove?” She comes over and wraps an arm around me as she falls into the sofa by my side.
I nod. “It’s nothing to write home about. No love story for the ages. And I don’t even know the ins and outs. I just know that Demetri loved my mom.” I point to the ceiling to indicate which mother. “This feud has some dark underpinnings that concerns the two of them romantically.”
Cooper’s brows hike. “Like you and Gage?”
My eyes close a moment. “Very muchunlikeGage and me. What Gage and I had was real. What my mother and Demetri had should have been flushed down the toilet ages ago and long-forgotten.”
A peal of lightning brightens the room, followed by an aggressive roar of thunder that rattles this cavernous home we’re holed up in.
Marshall’s chest rumbles with a laugh as he looks my way, and I waste no time zipping over to him as he stands warm by the fire.
“My dear Ms. Messenger.” His lips curve just enough. “Has the brewing storm frightened you? Shall I hold you in my arms until the danger has passed?”
“Maybe later,” I whisper as half the room breaks out into conversation, the other half still glued to the television set. “Right now I want you to tell me a story. What the heck happened between my mother and that quadruped?”
Marshall’s gaze flits to the fire, and it bursts to life, twice the size it was.
“I’m afraid that’s not my story to tell.”
“Okay, then tell me your story. You seemed enamored enough with me. Why waste so much time waiting for a Candace Messenger knockoff? Why not try to tap the OG while the feathers on her wings were still young and fresh? And before you placate me, I’m no prize. I am ordinary in every way. The only thing that sets me apart from the world, fromChloe, is the fact that I am coded with my mother’s DNA, the fruit of her loins. And, even though Rory died before she ever saw the light of day, I don’t believe for a minute I was a hard-won rainbow baby. I was destined to be here and here I am. I am programmed, designed, and destined to do my mother’s bidding. Such simple math. Don’t get me wrong. It’s an honor to fight for what’s right,for my people. But I certainly won the genetic lottery.”
Marshall lowers his chin as he bears hard into my eyes. “Do such deep thoughts often come to you after indulging in one of Ezrina’s eggplant sandwiches?”
“Funny. So why not my mother?”
“She wasn’t for me.” He ticks his head to the side. “Beautiful yes, but you are stunning.”
“And your affection runs only skin deep?” I know better, but what I don’t know is how to get a straight answer out of him. “Answer me, Sector. I do not work for you, I workwithyou. Maybe if you were straight with me from the beginning, we wouldn’t be in half the demonic pickles we’re in now.”
