Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7) (3 page)

“I hate caramel,” I announce.

“Nobody hates caramel, Skyla,” Logan teases, dropping his hands down my back.

“
I
do. I also can’t stand humming or whistling. It’s annoying as hell. It grates on me like nails on a chalkboard. In fact, I’d rather listen to a chalkboard being clawed than someone’s oral cavity spinning a tune.”

A sharp knock erupts at the door and startles us to attention.

I bounce into Logan’s arms and cover myself in his protective shelter.

It’s happening. They’re here, and now everything is going to change.

Soon we’ll wish we were on fire—dead—anything but alive and in the Counts incapable hands.

The door creaks open. The shadowed figure of a man fills the interim of light. He takes a step inside and brims with a wicked smile.

It’s him.

Knew it.

Chapter 3

Elysian

Demetri Edinger is not a handsome man by modern day standards, nor ancient standards for that matter.

His smile diminishes as he glowers at the two of us before shutting the door.

A thick wave of hair swoops neatly to the side, his large hooked nose lies prominent over his face, and yet he still manages to hold a debonair charm reserved for vampires and super villains alike. I can see how my mother might be swayed by his illicit advances, especially since her husband, Tad the moron seems incapable of giving her the attention she yearns for, like fire craves oxygen. 

“I see you’re comfortable,” he says through a false smile. Demetri hasn’t quite honed the fine art of acting human. He walks over to the bookshelf and taps the globe that houses the tiny worm behind a buffer of glass.

“You’ve met Isis,” he says, running his finger over the sphere in one smooth stroke. 

I decide to ignore his amphibious introduction. “How is my mother faring without me?” I say the word
mother
extra slow, trying to needle him with the guilt of my captivity. “I bet she hired you to scour the island clean, looking for the two of us.”

“You flatter yourself.” It comes out a tranquil hiss. “She’s done nothing of the sort. In fact, I’ve yet to bump into her. I’ve been busy here myself.” He reaches behind his hip and produces a thin silver blade in the shape of an elongated diamond, at least a foot in length. “Logan,” he says, bowing slightly. “I have an offer for you.” The sword ignites electric blue.

“More cutlery from the spirit sword collection?” I don’t know why I bother to fear Demetri. Gage once said both Logan and I would live a nice long life. Not that he’s batting a thousand with those visions, but still, you’ve got to believe in something, especially with a spirit sword staring you in the face.

“That’s what I like best about you, Skyla.” He extends the S in my name like the hiss from a cobra. “Your wonderful sense of humor. That, and the fact your perfect Celestra being is gracing my tower. Countenance is so pleased with my latest capture. They’ve initiated a festival in the honor of your blood. Does that make you feel like a celebrity? It should.”

“No. Oddly, it makes me feel like choking the life out of you, which I’m certain will happen sooner than later.”

Don’t go there
. Logan’s chastisement comes out more of a lament.

“Nevertheless,” he says, shifting his gaze to Logan, “you’ve sworn allegiance as a brother to Countenance. This is your opportunity to be promoted to council should you accept the challenge.”

You get a promotion, and I get the blood siphoned from my body? Nice,
I say.

“Skyla is in need of an Elysian.” Demetri wands a hand over the sword, and it returns to its alloy luster. “A guardian, if you will—someone to watch over her mortal body and escort her to the tunnels whenever her blood is needed.”

“You’re letting me go?” I hang onto the one thread of mercy I can find in his words.

“Yes, but there are spiritual strings attached—a spiritual leash if you will—or noose.” His eyes widen with malevolence. “I’ve no intention to cause emotional stress to the mother you speak so glib of.” He gives a long blink. “Ordinarily, I would have you reside here. People disappear from the planet every day, Skyla. You would be missed, but you would most certainly be mine. These four walls would be your new home.” His fingers strum through the air trying to entice me to the mythical surroundings. “In your case, you wouldn’t be alone. You would have the companionship of the one you love by your side. So many here in the tower are isolated—dare I say
all
.” He points to the wall just past the bed and it becomes transparent. A window bleeds into the next room, then the next, and the next until the rectangles compact in on themselves. Each room houses but one person, and each one looks bored to tears, grievously alone—one at the desk, another on the bed, a third flat on the floor in utter despair. Their pale, gaunt faces are lost in a hollow gaze. They have been stolen by the Counts in every capacity, baptized with cruelty in both body and soul. 

Demetri snaps his finger and the wall restores itself like switching off a remote. “We house the children with their mothers.” He nods as though it were perfectly sane. “And, of course, the final destination—the Tenebrous Woods—that, my friends, is—how would you say it? Where the action takes place.” He gives a curt nod and the wall ignites into a big screen again. An overwhelming darkness appears, then a sea of tree limbs form before our eyes, gnarled and twisted. The hint of a dark navy sky glimmers between the branches. Squared-off units—cages, emerge with a sickly glow and in each one are people pinned to the walls, held hostage within these cells, strapped with their arms spread wide, their legs secured in a harness. It looks satanic, something just this side of sexual, illegal and corrupt on every level. In another cell, people are roaming about then pause to look up at us. They move their arms toward us and in true 3-D fashion they extend into the room.

I touch my fingers to one, and a jolt of fear so viral lurches through me, it sends me deeper into Logan’s arms. I reach out and touch another.

Help
, he cries.
Kill us. The only way out is death.
I pull my hand back like snatching it out of a fire.

“Logan.” I bury my head in his chest.

“Yes, it can be quite disturbing.” Demetri straightens as if my fright invigorates him.  “The Countenance view the treatment chambers as nothing more than a factory with unruly employees. But how those Celestra souls cry out for people—how they hunger for the touch of another. It’s the constant ignorant thread of hope that gives them something to look forward to all those long dreaded weeks while replenishing their vital fluids. Of course, they don’t last long.” He shakes his head in mock pity.

Dear God.
I let out a breath in lieu of words.
He’s got this entire dungeon filled with Celestra blood dispensers. That’s so sick.

I wouldn’t go off just yet. Maybe wait until he’s out of the room,
Logan gives a slight squeeze as he says it.

As if.

“They’re not as interested in companionship as you think,” I say. “You know what they want more than an ice cream social?” I bark into Demetri’s crooked nose. “To get the hell
out
.”

Logan steps in front of me and clears his throat. “So, I’ll be Skyla’s Elysian?”

I can tell he’s trying to defuse Demetri’s temper, but in doing so, he’s riled up mine. I’m not so hot on discussing spiritual leashes either.

“You will—should you choose to accept the offer.” His dark eyes bear into Logan with the challenge. “You must do all that is asked. You, yourself, will be the purveyor of her torment. It’s you who’s to secure her body once the treble is initiated, if need be, to choose the celebrant who will be blessed to partake in the nectar of her marrow.”

“No. I won’t do it.” Logan doesn’t wait for him to finish.

Demetri tilts his head thoughtfully to the side.

A flash of lightning ignites through the window and fills the room with a dull rainbow of color. Rain pelts the stained glass, first slow and methodical then hard and biting. It’s as though Demetri’s anger has successfully channeled the weather phenomenon brewing outside.

“Then you die.” Demetri nods into his revelation. “You’ll be inflicted with a choice new body piercing.” He briefly holds up the knife. “If you’re still living by nightfall, I’ll have you siphoned by a brood of thirsty Counts—an especially rabid group—they have an all-out carnal desire for the taste of human blood. They seem partial to the cry of a Celestra.” He drills his eyes into me, burning through to the deepest part of who I am—the part where I stow my father and all of our best memories while we were still able to build them. He reverts back to Logan. “Robbing you of your lifeblood would bring them a profound sense of joy and accomplishment.”

Tell him you changed your mind,
I say.

I won’t let them gain pleasure from watching me torture you. I would never hurt you.

But they would, and they will. Even if you die, you won’t stop what’s coming. Logan, please. They’re going to do this to me anyway. I beg of you don’t leave me.

“Are negotiations underway?” Demetri lowers his chin.

“They’re done,” I say, straightening. “He’ll do it.”

“Logan?” He looks over my shoulder at him.

Logan tightens his grip around my waist, touches his temple to mine.
Forgive me, Skyla.    

“Your answer?” Demetri broadens his shoulders with a sense of false accomplishment.

“Consider it done. I’ll be her Elysian.”

Chapter 4

Tenebrous Woods

“Come.” Demetri offers me his hand, but I refuse.

Demetri is complicated, like a puzzle with too many pieces—none of them interlocking. He wants every part of my mother, while he aspires to kill her daughter. There is no rhyme or reason to the things he does. Love and hate are one and the same to a monster like him.

Logan and I rise to follow him out of the room, but Demetri pauses, touches the water globe with a swift stroke of his finger, igniting the creature inside into a spasm of fear.

Figures. Not even an attention-deprived worm welcomes his affection.

“Isis,” he whispers, the soft sound of the S reverberates unnaturally.

Demetri leads us out into an ornate hall, black-and-white checkered floors stretch for miles in either direction. Long mahogany doors line the corridor. Probably a Celestra soul locked in each one. If there wasn’t a binding spirit dousing this place with its ironclad vice, Logan and I could do something—we could
help
.

“You’ve traveled two years into the past.” Demetri says it causal as if it were common for small talk to center around time travel. “Or, what is it you kids are calling it these days? Light driving?”

I make a face.

Chloe originally called it light driving. Chloe is the one who should be down here. Her wickedness should be repaid in full measure by becoming the sole resident of these haunted halls. God knows she’s got enough Celestra in her to qualify.

“What’s with the time delay?” Logan squeezes my hand as he asks. I shoot him a look for fraternizing with the enemy, even though I was sort of curious myself.

“Reserves are terribly low,” Demetri is quick to spill. “The faction has instated a treble until each year’s needs have been met, and here we are, two years later, thirsty as ever. I’m afraid we’ll need to devise a clever scheme to replenish the supplies.”

He expels a wicked grin when he says the words “clever scheme” and it incites me to believe he’s already mastermind one.

A blond man with a pale face, dressed in black from head to toe, comes upon us in the hall, and Demetri takes a clipboard from him. “Wonderful. It will be youth council then.”

I recognize the man with silver colored spectacles hovering over his notes as Ellis’s father, Morley Harrison.

“Hello—Skyla, Logan.” He gives a polite nod to the two of us before dipping back to his work, banal as if he had passed us on the streets of Paragon.

“Shit.” Logan seethes as he sweeps on by.

Demetri continues to lead us through the tunnel of my discontent. Gilded carvings of long vines slither over the walls, assaulting our vision from above as they take over the crown molding. It reminds me of the body art Emily inflicted on me during ski week. Gage was supposed to be the vine, the one constant that traced all over my frame, bleeding into my future with the promise of forever. And now here I am, a prisoner locked in this hellish vineyard—my blood the wine. 

We walk for miles down the elaborate hall before hitting a set of black double doors with large gnarled fingers that protrude as handles. God—I bet they’re the petrified hands of some poor Celestra. I can just imagine Demetri dipping them into molten iron with glee while they were still very much attached to their unwilling donor.

“Logan,” Demetri says, giving a slight bow, “you’re to do what is asked of you. I’ve assigned a principality who will lead you through the procedures.” He lowers his gaze to me. “Mr. Harrison informed me there were enough captures to bring the supplies to somewhat sufficient levels. I’m going easy on you, Skyla.” He bears his teeth. “I’m gifting you to a youth pledge. I’ll let the Elysian decide which one.” He glances back at Logan and something wicked flickers in his eyes as if there were sexual implications involved for me.

My heart picks up pace as Demetri reaches for the handle. A panic quickens in me like a bull at the gate. My entire body is numb from shock and my limbs lock up at the joints.

“Please don’t do this.” I plead for one final act of mercy from the purveyor of this affliction, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t acknowledge my cry for help.

The door opens. A cool breeze licks against my face, my lips. It tastes my fear, taunts me with its icy tongue, lets me know I’m no longer my own.

An expansive darkness greets us on the other side. An owl cries out—a bloom of fog filters through the arid space before revealing a forest dipped in midnight. Another cry erupts, then another.