He knocks my head into the dry wall, and I feel my skull pressing through it.
“Shit.” My eyes remain shut tight as I let the pain reverberate through me. Yes, I will heal. No, Logan can’t kill me. But a part of me feels as if I owe him the pleasure. Hell, I know I do. “Are you finished?”
He gives a hard shove to my chest. “No, but you are. You don’t have the right to jack off to thoughts of Skyla, let alone touch her body. You are so far gone, there are no words to describe how disturbing it is to be in your presence, much less learn of the new ways you’re deteriorating.”
I wipe my face down with my hand. “I didn’t touch her. I haven’t touched her, and I won’t.” I blink a smile at Logan, taking in the heat of his anger at this close range. “Rory wanted something that I wasn’t going to give her. I’m guessing you’re not giving it to her either, thus her sudden desperation to get laid. If I were the two of you, I’d watch where she goes next. I don’t know who would be willing to risk their necks by jumping into bed with her, but my guess is there is always someone ready and willing.”
A dull moan comes from Skyla. “I’ll meet you at Marshall’s.” She zips out of the house so fast she leaves a blur in her wake.
I tick my head toward the door. “I’m assuming she was talking to you. Get out of here. I’ve got a mess to clean up.”
He grabs me by the shirt and pulls me in.
“I’d be much more worried about the spiritual mess you’re making. What is it going to take to beat some sense into your head?” He slams me to the wall one more time. “I refuse to believe you’re this demon you’re posing as, and yet you fucking killedSkyla!” he riots in a rage. “What the hell is happening?” He shakes his head in disbelief.
“Chalk me up as a lost cause and move on with your damn life.”
“No.” It comes from him harsh and quick. “Never. I consider myself a good judge of character and the old you, the character I grew up with, was genuine. The world, maybe even Skyla, will give up on you, but I won’t. I don’t think I can. Call it living in the past, the diehard idiot in me, call it whatever the hell you want—I can’t believe any of this. Deep down, I don’t think you do either.”
“Logan, this is me. I am more real than I ever have been before. And to save Skyla the breath, I’ll give you the highlight reel of our bushy little meet-up. I’m about to swipe all of the Nephilim my way once and for all. Enjoy your five minutes on a cloud, because it’s about to rain, and the footing you think you have will dissolve to nothing. I’m not sorry, Logan. Everything I do is because I’ve thought about it and approve of it. And yes, I even meant to send Skyla packing to paradise. It wasn’t ideal, but she forced my hand. She’s too much of a liability, and so are you. But seeing that celestial forces are determined to keep you two on the planet, I will deal with it. But I will also overcome it. And now that Wes and Chloe have turned their backs on me, I need to keep my guard up from every angle. But I don’t need your pity. I can assure you, I have this handled.”
A long spate of silence slices between us. Logan never takes his eyes off of me.
“You’re not the same,” he says it low before reaching up and giving my face a couple of gentle slaps as if he were trying to rouse me from my sleep. “You look the same. Feel real enough, but what’s on the inside has been severely damaged. Don’t worry, buddy. I’m going to fix this for you. I don’t know how or when, but rest assured, I am not giving up on your thorny ass. Because that’s what brothers do. They fight for each other. I’m not interested in any of your protests, so you can save it. Yes, what you did to Skyla was unforgivable. But it just goes to show how afraid of her you really are. And now all I have to do is figure out why.”
I open my mouth to tell him the simple answer, the Factions, nothing more nothing less, but he silences me with a lift of his finger.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he says. “You’re out of your mind, you’re ill. You need help, and I’m going to make sure you get it.” He starts to take off then backtracks. “You lost everything, Gage. Your people are gone, too. The throne is next. That’s not a warning. That’s a promise.”
He takes off, and I walk to the gaping doorway and watch as he drives off toward Marshall’s place, toward Skyla, where he truly belongs.
Logan is wrong. I’m not sick. I’m of clear mind and body. If he knew the truth, he’d be singing a different tune. And he was wrong about one other thing, too—my throne isn’t going anywhere.
I look around at debris left in Skyla’s wake and marvel at the irony. We have splintered in the most literal sense. But my love for her is stronger than ever.
I step out into the icy Paragon fog. It’s time to secure my throne.
It’s time to get my people back.
* * *
Idecide to hoof it on the way to Demetri’s. Not sure why I didn’t bother with the truck. Most likely because every last cell in this new body wanted to protest Logan’s words. I am so very real, right down to my stubborn spirit. This darkness, this storm—I have to keep reminding myself that this too shall pass. I’m not living in this misery forever.
Yes, I have to wait for my entire family to cross the great divide before things can even begin to look normal again, but they will. Skyla and Logan will finally see the light, and they will agree it was a good thing that I had done.
This shithole I’m in at the moment may not feel too good, but you make sacrifices for those you love. And yes, even killing Skyla was a great sacrifice. It had to be done. But now that I see it was a fruitless effort, I’m anxious to see what comes next. She’s back. And I’m assuming soon enough she’ll be back in her own body.
A part of me finds it hard to believe her mother hasn’t stepped in yet, in some dramatic way. She did give Skyla the ability to possess a believer. I’m assuming Chloe okayed the effort—a miracle of great magnitude, but knowing Chloe, this too will come with a price—a great price, most likely a regrettable one that will leave Skyla rethinking her choices. But her hands were tied. Nevertheless, Skyla and Logan are due to get married in a week. My guess is, if Skyla isn’t in her body, Logan will call things off.
That will give Rory a big hint that things are off-kilter. Not that she shouldn’t already be apprised. Logan cut her off. Logan would never cut Skyla off. But Rory doesn’t know that.
Rory is cunning, but she’s not very bright. Not that it’s her fault either. She’s on foreign terrain. She was a spirit born and bred in paradise, a corn-fed bumpkin from a far more innocent place. But she’s packing her mama’s twisted—some might say wicked mind. And she has one serious bone to pick with Skyla. Rory truly believes her destiny was stolen from beneath her. In a way I can commiserate with Rory.
In my heart I feel I should have been in Logan’s position. But I don’t get the happily ever after. Not on Earth anyway—not during these tumultuous years.
I come upon Marshall’s overgrown estate and pause, staring at the mansion lit up like a jack-o’-lantern. I can imagine the scene now. Skyla and Logan frantically begging Dudley for help. No, that’s not right. Logan isn’t going to get frantic. He’s going to get pissed, then he’s going to get even. Skyla is already in a panic. I witnessed that with my own eyes. I’m the root of it all when you get down to it. I will admit that I didn’t put much thought into how this all might play out. My chief concern was losing out on eternity. And in truth, I don’t blame myself for not weighing out the what-ifs—for two reasons—I knew they wouldn’t matter, and that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to change anything. If Logan and Skyla knew what waited in the balance, they’d cheer me on. Although, reality suggests otherwise.
I give the house a solemn nod before moving on.
