And just like that, Candace Messenger explodes.
Not in the literal sense—though given the way this evening is going, that wouldn’t have surprised me either. Candace dissipates into a tornado comprised solely of lightning that reaches from the cliff to the roiling clouds above, her essence scattered into crackling electricity that makes the air taste like copper and ozone. Thunder crashes around us with enough force to make my teeth rattle, and the entire island shakes as if it’s having a seizure.
Logan pulls me back from the cliff’s edge as lightning forks across the sky in patterns that definitely aren’t natural. The storm rages for what feels like hours but lasts just minutes, and when it finally subsides, we’re left standing alone with nothing but the sound of the waves and our own ragged breathing.
“Well,” Logan says after a beat of silence, “that went better than expected.”
I stare at the spot where my mother just had what can only be described as a supernatural tantrum. “She’s completely lost her mind.”
“Or she’s been playing us from the beginning.”
“Probably both.” I turn to look at him as my dread begins to grow. “Logan, we’re not just trapped in the past. We’re trapped in the past by someone with some major control issues.”
“Someone who clearly has her own agenda.”
“Someone who just threatened us with celestial imprisonment if we don’t do whatever mysterious thing she wants us to do. But if we don’t know what we’re supposed to get done, how are we supposed to do it?”
He cocks his head to the side as he considers this. “Maybe that’s the point. She doesn’t need us to know anything.”
I nod his way. “Maybe she needs us to mess everything up. Talk about leaning on one of my strengths. She did seem rather attached to those ripples of hers.”
Logan wraps his arms around me, and I press into his warmth, trying to process what just happened. The cliff feels different now, heavier somehow, like the weight of Candace’s deception has settled into every crag.
“We’ll figure this out,” he says quietly. “We’ll find another way home.”
“What if there isn’t one? What if she’s the only one who can send us back, and she’s hell-bent on keeping us here? What if we have to relive that nightmare of a faction war all over again?”
Logan stares past me into the dark abyss of the Pacific and slowly shakes his head. “We have to take down Candace Messenger.”
I close my eyes for a moment because the words that need to come next seem stuck in my throat. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Famous last words.
It didn’t end so well for everyone the first time, and I have a feeling the second verse in this case will be a lot like the first.
If Candace wants a war, that’s exactly what she’ll get.
28
Gage
The Paragon Pier stretches into the fog like a skeletal finger pointing toward nothing, its weathered planks slick with moisture that makes each step just one move away from a broken neck.
The sound of my footsteps echoes hollow over the dark water below, where waves slap against the pylons with a rhythm that feels like a countdown to something I’m going to regret.
Chloe stands at the far end, against the gray nothingness that passes for a horizon on nights like this. Even from a distance, I can see the calculated way she’s positioned herself—one hip cocked, hair falling just so over her shoulder, the perfect picture of effortless seduction. Nothing about Chloe Bishop is ever effortless, but she’s mastered the art of making it look that way.
“You came,” she says as I step her way, her voice carrying that sultry undertone that probably works on every other guy at West. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“You said you had ideas,” I reply, stopping just out of reach. Thefog swirls between us like a living thing, and I can smell her perfume mixing with the salt air—something expensive and cloying that makes my nose itch.
Chloe’s smile is predatory as she steps closer, closing the distance I deliberately created. “I do. Lots of them.”
Her hand reaches for my chest, and I resist the urge to step back. This is what I came here for, isn’t it? The distraction. The chance to prove that I can move on from Skyla, that I don’t need her validation or her love or the way she looks at me like I matter.
“Gage,” Chloe breathes, her fingers tracing patterns on my jacket. I’ll need to be careful around Chloe. She’s a Celestra. Once we touch, she can read me like a book. Hell, she could probably read me like a book anyway.
Instead, I put up that lead vault around my mind like I’ve been known to around Skyla and Logan.
