I close my eyes and expunge them from my heart as an explosion of illuminated blue butterflies fly from within me. We watch as they float off into Ahava, into the paradise of God, and all who look to them are struck with wonder.
“And they”—I say, nodding at the flurry of fluttering wings—“will be a sign of passion, a demonstration that proves it is alive and free in the world. I will use that winged creature as a symbol for the Eros love that humans are so quick to burn for. But what they won’t understand is that in order to gain power over it, they must release it. Lest it holds them captive and under its thick spell.”
Sector Marshall leans in. “But, Your Grace, you are forgetting that it is no spell at all. It is whole, and right, and it is the very nectar of God that humans and created beings alike are blessed to drink should their path fall upon it. Let it be a symbol of pure love, true love, the kind that knows no end. A symbol of hope.”
“A symbol of hope.” I nod. “Now that I can live with.”
“Hope for Eros.” Demetri winks. “You can never deny its true underpinnings, now can you?”
My lips press tightly as they demand to do just that. “No. I suppose not.” I look up sharply to Sector Marshall. “Gather the magistrates of your kind. Call in the Fems. We’ll meet behind the Falls in the sapphire amphitheater to discuss the fate of the Nephilim. Do not breathe a word of what I’ve told you. My lips will be the first they’ll hear it from. Then come back and we three will finish our private discussion.” I tip my head back and examine Demetri as the blue waters sizzle behind him the way they did that day long ago when we first were enflamed with passion. “I will finish here with Demetri.”
A rumble of laugh expels from Demetri himself. “My dear Candace, we will never finish. We are without beginning and without end, an extension of eternity itself.”
I’m afraid we are, in fact, done.
Demetri offers an amicable nod. “If it were true, you would have voiced it and made it so.”
Sector Marshall lets out a vicious growl. “Next time, Your Grace, might I suggest you speak those dry bones to life—or in this case, a beautiful, beautiful death.” He evaporates from our presence and already the sapphire amphitheater begins to fill with his kind.
Demetri and I are dry bones indeed, and these bones need never to resurrect again.
Skyla
Possession
There is a moment once you die when you realize what has truly transpired. You are exhumed from your body, vacuumed, if you will, by a seemingly celestial force—and just like that, you are beyond your corporal frame. And this is that moment for me.
No sooner do I see my body, still locked in Gage Oliver’s untrustworthy arms, the ghost of my deceased sister stepping into my flesh, into my rightful place, than I feel myself pulling out of the room, straight up, through the ceiling, through the rafters of the Harrisons’ mansion and into the navy Paragon sky. It’s my birthday and my death date all rolled into one.
An army of cobalt blue butterflies flutter around me as I rise ever so higher into the stratosphere. I see Paragon growing smaller, the islands that surround her closing in on her like a hug, and the lights from Seattle on the mainland just beyond that.
A panic sets in as every minute that I have lived plays out in my mind’s eye in quick succession. My life zips by like a movie set on fast-forward, nothing but a brief interlude of time. It was the beginning and the end of what I was allotted.
My precious children come to mind. The boys weigh heavily on my heart, my sweet Nathan, Barron, and my baby angel Jaxson. My God, Logan. My mother, my sisters, my whole Landon family. Bree and Laken, their precious children. The Factions in all their brilliant disarray, the sticky government—the state of the fallen world with Gage Oliver at the helm.
Oh dear God, no.
I can’t die.
I can’t be dead.
My family, the Factions, the world needs me. Hell, I need me in the flesh—myflesh, the very one that is being corrupted by my sister, Aurora “Rory”Messenger. The child that Candace Messenger lost in utero.
Rory feels I upstaged her on some celestial level. She truly must believe I stole her destiny, and that is why she so indelicately stole it back.
My God, she put on a show tonight. She threw the celestial world of the Nephilim into a tailspin that I’m not quite sure anyone else could have pulled off. I will be the first to admit it was brilliant down to the bone.
Her plan was simple—screw Gage Oliver and watch the shattered pieces fall where they may. And they fell like a lead balloon over a glass house, leaving a trail of bloody destruction in its wake, or in this case, a trail of justice perhaps. I suppose it would depend on who you asked. And truthfully, if you asked me, due my current unfortunate state, I do not approve of Rory or her schemes anymore. There is no justice in what she’s done. This is a grave error on her part, and by proxy my own. No, I cannot approve of my sister’s actions, especially not after she stood by while Gage sucked the life right out of me by way of his mouth. I certainly know how I feel about that bitch and that bastard. I’m guessing my death was her end game after all. Perhaps his, too.
And now she’s out there. On the loose. Running around Paragon in my coat of flesh.
Logan will figure it out. He’ll come looking for me in the heavenlies. I’m sure of it. But deep down in my spirit, there’s a niggling feeling that I should be wary of awaiting anybody’s rescue. If Gage Oliver taught me anything, it’s do not lie down and hand someone else your power while hoping for the best. I must rely on my God, on myself. I wouldn’t even put the woman who birthed me in that equation—although, as the sky darkens in hue around me and the stars seem to turn into silver streaks as I rise ever higher into the heavenly expanse, I’m betting I am very much going to need Candace Messenger on my side.
To my right I spot dark figures, static in the sky, figures of men with large suits of what looks like armor covering every inch of them. There is no fear in me as I continue to soar heavenward through the universe, so mind-shatteringly fast that the stars turn into lines all around me.
No, no. I shake my head as I become acutely aware of my disembodied state—this temporal frame, my spirit. In my mind’s eye, I can see myself as if this were all a dream. I seem to be taller in stature, my muscles well-defined. My hair is long and golden, each strand shimmering and alive. My wild mane is tamed and perfectly curled in neat little coils. It’s as if I’m an improved physical version of myself, without a natural body to go along with it.
Logan comes to mind once again and my heart aches for him. He’ll marry again. Probably Lexy. And oddly, this doesn’t bother me.
