Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7) (7 page)

***

My lids flutter as a pale blur warbles in and out of focus from above. I give several hard blinks and find Gage gazing down at me. His dimples dig in and assure me I’ve survived the mortal assault Marshall commandeered against my body. I wrap my arms around him and inhale his scent. I miss the perfume of his skin. I miss everything about Gage with a terrible ache.

“How do you feel?” He outlines my jaw with his thumb.

“Like killing you.” It comes out maudlin, and sad, and only a tiny bit true.  I sit up and marvel at what little effort it takes. “Hey, I do feel better.” A strange tingling sensation filters through to the ends of my fingers all the way to my toes. Something’s different. Something’s all together off about this new me. “Looks like you shot those prayers off in the right direction.”

I take in a smooth breath and feel my energy level rise.

“Here.” Gage produces a soda that I keep as a part of my stash and extends it to me like an olive branch.

I hesitate before taking it from him, then down it like I haven’t had a drink in ages. I let the carbonation burn through my esophagus and fill my stomach with the tepid liquid as I pour it down my throat.

“Thank you,” I pant.

Gage and I stare at one another a very long time. We drip with honey-sweet sadness. You could spill us out over the black, sparkling floor of the butterfly room, we were spent, not one emotion left in us—broken beyond our years.

“I can’t bear that I’ve hurt you, Skyla.”

“I can’t bear that you’ve hurt me, Gage.” I say it soft, just this side of tears. I’ve hurt Gage before—badly wounded him, but this was a betrayal that swept us off our feet. It sailed us further apart than any grievance could ever have had the power to do.

“Let me tell you everything.” He gives it in a heated whisper directly into my ear. It brings back that dream I had the first night in the tunnels—Gage and me interlaced beneath the sheets—his sweltering body pressed against mine.

“Not now.” Not ever is what I really should have said. The last thing in the world I want to hear is how Gage and Chloe converged in a union to deceive me. “Can I ask you something?” I turn to face him fully. 

“Anything.” His eyes widen with hope. Gage looks as if he would trade the world for another chance at what we had.

“You gave me this ring.” I look down at the tiny silver band, the sapphire cut into a heart set in the middle. It glistens underneath the light, happy in its ignorance. It spells out his deception with every sparkle. “You said you’d love me forever.” I shake my head. “You loved me, Gage. I could feel it, but you let everything we built that love upon lay over a foundation of some pact you made with Chloe—
Chloe
.”

Gage closes his eyes. Remorse pours from him, heavy and smothering.

“I don’t want you to say anything.” A knot the size of a fist locks up my throat. “Right now I’d just really like for you to leave.”

Gage takes in a breath and gives a reluctant nod.

“Just know that I love you. I would die for you.” He leans in. “To die for you would be an honor, Skyla.” He brings my hand up to his lips and brushes it with a kiss.

Gage evaporates slower than I ever thought possible, makes me wonder if he’s left a part of himself behind. 

I sort of wish he did.

Chapter 9

Baby Phat

In the morning, I stare out at the dark, prominent shield draped over Paragon. I search for signs of Nevermore, his thick ebony plumes glossed to perfection from the swirling fog. It would be a pleasure to see him stretched out in full wingspan, but there’s not one sign of my fine-feathered friend.

I shower and dress. The bruise that wrapped around my neck like a bright green ring has already dissipated. I feel renewed, refreshed at the thought of heading over to the hospital to visit Brielle and Drake’s love child, baby Beau.

I still can’t believe my best friend had my stepbrother’s baby at prom, in the parking lot no less, with Gage at the helm of the delivery.

It brings the curve of a smile to my face, and I’m almost happy at the thought of being an aunt. Almost. Gage pummeled my heart and now it seems impossible to soar with joy ever again.

I drive downtown just missing the oncoming storm and purchase flowers from the gift shop before taking the elevator up.

On the maternity ward, a large glass window stretches out for an infinite expanse, shielding a row of tiny newborns nestled tight in white flannel blankets.

Logan stands in the center of the hall with his hand pressed against the window.

“Hey you.” I brush my lips just beneath his ear and take him in. Logan is a testament to all that’s true and right in this world—plus he’s hotter than a bonfire.

“Skyla.” He offers a brief hug and winces.

“You’re in pain. Your blood should’ve healed you.” I lament, rubbing my fingers against his perfect jaw.

“It did, for the most part.”

I wrap my arms gingerly around him again and refuse to let go. “I love you so much. I’m sorry they hurt you.”

“Skyla, it’s you they hurt, not me.” The line down his cheek inverts and magnifies my attraction to him. It’s from the cut I gave him with a root beer bottle so many months ago. Who knew by trying to injure him, I’d only inflict him with more sexiness? “I’m the one who’s sorry.” He punctuates it with a kiss over my temple.

“We’ll get through this,” I say, pulling back and taking in his Adonis-like perfection. “We can make it through anything this life throws at us as long as we stick together.”

He clouds over with the slight look of agony. “And we will be—together.” He offers without remorse. Logan looks back at the tiny sleeping bundles with their wrinkled faces, each with its own button nose. “They’re so beautiful.” He warms my back with his hand. “Can you imagine something so perfect coming from two people who love each other? I want that one day,” he rasps the words out, “with you, Skyla.”

My heart thumps unnaturally.

Tears come to me unexpected as we observe the sea of glowing faces. One of the tiny beings blinks to life, and his gaze wanders.

“I want that, too.” I press my lips into Logan’s cheek and mean every word. 

“You look terrific, by the way,” he says, dusting my neck with his thumb while observing my injuries. “Was it bad?”

“A little worse than that.” I swallow hard trying to deflect thoughts of Gage holding me through the night. “You see Brielle yet?”

“Yeah, I was just taking off for the bowling alley. I gotta see for myself what carnage Kragger may have caused—see what level of damage control I’m in for.” He leans in. “Those tunnels—we can’t let that happen again. I won’t take you down there.”

“They’ll kill you if you don’t.”

“They
are
killing you,” he says it sharp, angry. “Talk to Dudley, see if there’s a way out of this. I’ll see what I can do on my own.” He drops a kiss on the top of my head and starts heading out.

“Wait, what do you mean on your own?”

“Never mind. I’ll catch you later.”

“Logan!”

“I promise we’ll figure this out. Nothing’s impossible.”

I shake my head at his words. I’m pretty sure the Counts have figured out a way to swallow the impossible.

***

Inside Brielle’s hospital room, there’s a party-like atmosphere.

Brielle sits on the bed with her copper hair gnarled up in a ball reminiscent of the do I was sporting just last night. Mom sits beside her while Drake, Tad, and Ethan sit on the tiny sofa facing a giant flat screen, soaking in a basketball game.

“Congratulations!” I spring over to the bed and offer her one long, rocking hug. “Are you OK? Is the baby OK?”

“We’re both fine,” she says, plucking the blanket off her chest. “I’m nursing.”

“Oh my God! I almost killed it!” I gasp.

“Relax, Drake already dropped him.” She tries to yank him away from her body and her nipple stretches elastic like a gummy bear. “Lizbeth, get this critter some food, my boobs are on fucking fire,” she snipes. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I’m a little cranky, what with no sleep and all.”

“Right, hon.” Mom jumps up and offers me a brief hug. “How was prom?”

“So overrated.” I roll my eyes without meaning to.

“Oh, don’t say that.” Mom sags with disappointment. “You’ll get to college and wish they had those special boy-girl get-togethers.”

“They do, Lizbeth.” Tad belches. “It’s called ‘the weekend.’”

“He’s right,” Brielle chimes in. “Every weekend is a freaking party. My sister’s not even coming home for summer vacation.”

I keep forgetting Brielle has relations other than her mom.

The door whooshes open and, speaking of her mom, Darla enters on cue with her undesirable, not-so-human other half—Demetri.

She breezes by and plucks the baby out of Brielle’s hands.

“Beau Geste.” Darla coos into the tiny bundle. “That’s a big name for a little bugger.” Her short pixie hair spikes him in the face every now and again, and he starts in on the world’s softest cry.

“Here, let me.” Mom hitches a crimson lock behind her ear and pries the infant right from Darla’s unwilling hands. She bounces him up over her shoulder gently, and he quiets down to the bleating of a lamb. Meanwhile, Mom is totally missing the uber pissed off expression on Darla’s face.

“Skyla.” Demetri has the nerve to breathe my name as he nods hello. As if he didn’t just make a withdrawal from my blood bank and deposit it straight into some hungry Count’s stomach.

I don’t respond. I refuse to look at him or acknowledge his existence. He killed my father, and now he wants me in the grave next door. Well, it ain’t happening.

Mom tap dances with the infant in her arms. “I’m throwing a big graduation party at my house next weekend for Ethan.” She exaggerates a whisper while patting away at the baby’s back. “You’re all invited. We’re family now.” She adds that last part in a trancelike state while gazing into Demetri as though it were their infant she were slapping into oblivion.

I wish my mother would lose her obsession with the demon that stands before her, and yet, her fascination with the blunder from down under continues to fester. I bet she’d like nothing more than to have a big, giant, family with that hook-nosed rat.

“We’ve always been family, Lizbeth,” he says, relaxing his arm around her waist as she cradles the newborn babe.

“My turn,” I declare, holding out my hands. I’ve never held an infant, but I won’t let my reluctance stop me from breaking up the love fest between my mother and the malignant spirit nestled up beside her.

Mom comes over and places the tiny bundle into my waiting arms.

“He’s so light!” It’s like holding air. I swear he weighs less than the blanket.

“Eight pounds six ounces,” Brielle scoffs. “I have the stretch marks on my ass to prove it. And by the way, Gage did fantastic.”

I hear Brielle’s voice on the periphery, but I’m spellbound by this beautiful, tiny creature—his dot of a nose, perfect bowtie lips that purse for no reason.

“He’s so sweet,” I whisper, amazed at the sight of him.

“He’s a prince I tell you,” Mom sings. “By the way, Gage is a hero. He’s truly amazing. You are one lucky girl, Skyla. That boy is a keeper.”

I turn just enough so my mother doesn’t see the sorrow in my face.

Baby Beau fidgets and squirms to life. His lips twitch, and he presses his face into my chest.

“He’s a boob man,” Darla says it proud while taking him back.

“Just like his daddy.” Brielle is quick to point out.

Lovely.

Demetri steps toward me. His ebony hair is swept back in a series of coarse waves.

“Better already?” His dark eyes try to hide their mocking laughter.

“You better watch your back,” I whisper. “I plan on telling my mother every little horrific detail of your den of terror and what that meant for yours truly.”

“Your mother?” His lips curve on the sides. “Which one?”

“Both,” I seethe.

“What if I told you they already knew?”

I don’t say anything—just pass a glance at my mother who is openly denying something to Darla—probably the fact Demetri is an asshole. 

He gives a hard sniff. “Regardless of what you believe, I don’t desire to harm you.”

“Liar.”

Chapter 10  

Tactical Alert

Bitterness descends from the sky in heavy sheets. I drive through a torrent of black rain on my way to Marshall’s house. Long, striated spears fall from the sky and create a blinding barrier, leaving the windshield wipers pulsing over the glass just enough to glaze it. 

I run out, holding my jacket above my head, and manage to saturate myself by the time I hit the door. I give three brisk knocks, and Marshall answers with his alarming good looks. He should be outlawed for showing off his flawless features, for pressing up against the landscape and out bidding the beauty that God afforded around him.     

“I need you,” I say, barreling past him and dropping my sopping coat on the floor.

“Love in the afternoon? I’m more than happy to oblige.” He’s quick to descend upon me, locking his arms around my waist. “I can’t imagine a better way to pass the time.”

“That’s not what I need you for.”

He burrows his head into my neck, my hair. “One day that’s all you’ll ever need me for, and I’ll feel rather used.” He gives a sly smile.

“Oh, stop.” I push him away with the flat of my hands. I let him in on the crap house that is the “Celestra tunnels” and before I’m through, I spot that magic mirror of Demetri’s, haunting his residence.

“Tad was less than impressed that you broke in and took it.” Although it doesn’t look broken at all.

“Breaking and entering is hardly how I operate.” He leers at me suggestively. “All of the entering I’m involved in is mutually consensual,” he whispers it low and my stomach ignites with heat. “I come invited.”

Marshall drips with lust for me and I have to look away before I buckle to his advances. This entire nightmare with Gage and the Counts has my resistance at an all-time low.