“Yes,” I whisper. “But I’ll be walking in as a full-fledged adult. I’ll have that advantage.” I glower over at the devil among us. “I suppose you’ll arrange for a quick demise. I am your enemy. I expect nothing else.”
“Never,” Sector Marshall roars, and I silence him with a lift of my finger.
“Time will tell,” I whisper. “Though I have the ability to carve out destiny for others, it is not for me to decide how long my own flesh will wander the Earth.”
“I will procure children of my own that will rule the Factions,” Demetri snorts. “And my people will have their proper seat in the heavenlies.” He offers a brief nod as he says it.
A ripe anger burns through me, heated as a furnace.
“Be gone,” I utter. “I’m no longer amused by your presence.”
He bears his gaze into me like a punishment. “I’m no longer amused myself.”
Sector Marshall and I watch as he stalks off in a fury.
“It is almost a pity to see him so riled up, so filled with rage,” I say. “Almost.”
“He won’t prevail.”
“No, he won’t.” I look to the handsome Sector before me. “We must secure this victory in any manner we can.”
“Your Grace, if you are headed to Earth to have a child, he’ll know it’s your seed that’s destined to lead Celestra to victory. I’m afraid he won’t give time to the decoy. Your daughter, though a gleam in the eyes of existence, already wears a target on her back.”
“Demetri knows me well enough to heed to the decoy. Besides, who’s to say my decoy is a decoy after all?”
He leans back and examines me. “Would you deny your own child the right to lead her people to victory?”
“Maybe I would. Maybe I have something entirely unexpected up my Celestial sleeve.”
7
Skyla
Paragon wears her dark clouds like a robe. If the rain isn’t pounding to the earth, the fog has permeated it, smothering it with its dove gray affection. And that’s exactly what’s happening at the moment.
I watch from across the street of the Landon house as it appears and disappears as the mist swallows it whole and then spits it out. The evergreens spear skyward like arrows that point to God—to the heavens where Gage Oliver saw fit to send my soul.
I shake my head at the thought. Here I had believed with all of my heart that I was the love of his life, I was his everything. And now I am nothing but a roaming spirit.
Thanksgiving has passed. It came and went without me while I was in the heavenlies vying for mercy from my glacier of a mother. But she ultimately delivered, and a handful of people know exactly where they can find me—wearing Chloe Bishop’s body like a winter coat. It’s officially December, and the air already has a wintery bite to it.
I make my way across the street, up the steep driveway, up the porch that I’ve climbed a thousand times before. Logan and I spent the night at Whitehorse—same bed, no kisses, just lots of warm hugs. I’ve never been one to control myself around Logan Oliver, but Chloe has provided a strange barrier between us. And now we’re back at the Landon house. He’ll be here with Jaxson, and I’ll be here sleeping wherever I can find a space. Logan swore he wasn’t going to touch Rory again, and unless Gage filled her in, then she won’t know who’s really lurking in this newfound skin of mine.
I press my hand to the door a moment as if I were checking for a heartbeat. An owl sounds off in the woods to my left and I glance that way in time to see a single cobalt butterfly flutter past me. It makes my heart ache for simpler times gone by. All those years wrapped in Gage Oliver’s arms up in the butterfly room, they were all for naught—his love was a deception at its finest.
An icy breeze whips by and ushers me back to my present reality. I give a few rapid-fire knocks, and no one comes to the door so I let myself in.
“Hello?” I call out, but there’s so much chaos coming from the family room, it’s no wonder they can’t hear me.
Please, Messenger, Chloe practically gags.Why so formal? Storm the castle and head to the refrigerator just the way I do. And after you’ve secured yourself a refreshment, have a chat with Em and Bree. That’s the Bishop way.
I roll my eyes.You’re forgetting your pit stop to stab me in the back.
She laughs at the thought.I save you for dessert. I prefer to set you on fire last. Speaking of the white witch, there she is seated at the counter stuffing her face with—donuts?
“Oh wow, those look good,” I say above a whisper as I enter the room. Drake and Ethan are playing video games while the little ones, Misty, Beau, and Ember, are fighting over toys in front of that giant TV.
But that’s not what holds my attention. I’m shocked to see my mother and sisters huddled in the corner of the family room, looking over at Rory while whispering amongst themselves as if they, too, suspected something. Rory sits at the bar noshing on a donut while eyeing the pink box of pastries in front of her as if she were about to strike again. And believe me, I’m tempted to strike right along with her. But instead of heading for the box of sugary goodness, my new feet take me my sisters’ way instead.
