Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7) (8 page)

“Back to the mirror.” I speed over to it in an effort to hide the color in my face.

He cuts a venomous look at the contraption. “I’ve broken it twice already, and each time, it’s morphed back into shape.”

“Get rid of it.” I pull him in tight as if it might morph into a clown, or Ezrina, or, God forbid, Demetri himself. “Bury the damn thing.”

“I shan’t.” He lets out a breath. “Finders keepers and all those good-for-nothing euphemisms. Besides, it has properties. I merely haven’t discovered them yet. I’ve been throwing things in it all day. I’ve loosed two squirrels and a jackrabbit into the black hole, and they’ve yet to return.” He strokes the side of his face. “I’m guessing I’ll need to send in the reserves—a raven to be exact.”

“Discover whatever the hell you need to discover then get it the F out of dodge,” I say. “Marshall…” I cup his face with my hands and pant into him. “I can’t go to that prison again.” I try to control my agitation. “As your future wife, I absolutely forbid you to let them take me again.” I have no problem pulling the wife card with Marshall. Hell, I might just need every weapon in the matrimonial arsenal to prevail against the Counts.

“Dear girl, count your blessings they released you at all. You are aware the other Celestra prisoners are denied their weekend fun pass. You, my dear, have invoked a peculiar vein of mercy from the purveyor of your grief.”

“Are you freaking kidding me? So what? You want me to write Demetri a thank you?” I’m shocked Marshall isn’t livid—breaking the piano in a fit of rage or setting the barn on fire, better yet, the entire freaking forest. “Do you know what’s it’s like down there? It’s a hellhole! People were screaming. They were
afraid
. There was a child down there for Pete’s sake, who by the way, I won’t rest until I rescue. Speaking of children, does my mother know I was down there?” And I’m not talking, Lizbeth.

“The woman knows everything. Of course she knows.”

“Oh my God.” I grip my fingers to my chest. “She’s a monster. How could she ever find that acceptable? She didn’t come. She didn’t help—she
let
those horrible things happen to me—to others.” I shake my head in disbelief.

“She didn’t come to your rescue, did she?” Marshall reels me in again. “She wanted you to see it, feel it, taste all of its displeasure, and swill it in your mouth like rancid fat.”

“She could have taken me there and given me the tour, thank you very much. I
lived
it,” I hiss.

“Perhaps she wants you to do something about it.” His cheek twitches as he withholds a smile.

“Me? What is wrong with you people? First you want me to fight a war so
you
can stay in power, and now she wants me to concoct some lame idea on how I’m going to open the tunnels and set my people free?”

Shit.

Having your mother in charge of your destiny has got to be the worst idea ever. If only she would have had more children, she could have spread the misery around. 

“Yes, I believe it’s finally sunk in.” Marshall warms my back with his hands. “We need you.”

“I’m a useless human!” I totally don’t mean that. I just want to get the celestial superiors off my effing back. 

“A Celestra, my dear, is far from human. Nevertheless, you were chosen. The Master insists that humans have free will, free reign, free charge over just about everything. The war cannot be fought without flesh and blood. Divine officers have only so much say—it is you who holds the power.”

“But the tunnels—my mother has the power to free those people. You probably do, too.”

“No, Skyla. We’re not to interfere in that manner. We can assist, guide, comfort.” He squeezes my waist when he says it. “Intervening when evil prospers is not our lot. Justice comes at the end of the day and not a moment sooner.”

“At the end of the day, we’ll all be dead.”

“Observant of you to note.” Marshall gently lifts my chin with his finger. “You, Ms. Messenger, are not like the rest. Your mother has purposed a legacy for you. The challenge is yours should you accept it. It is a generous lot, but it’s yours for the taking. Be strong. I can help you do this.”

“Free me from Demetri. I beg of you. Don’t let him take me again.”

“Skyla,” he says, glancing down with a look of agony, “there are rules.”

“And I’ve been captured.” I circle a nod in disbelief. “There must be a way. A protective hedge like Chloe has or a spirit that can guard over me.”

“No, love. Once the capture has been engaged, it is a binding covenant. You’re at their disposal.” He bites hard on his lip until it loses all color. “The only way to break the covenant is to invoke the mercy of your captor—and already you’ve tasted a portion. I’m afraid you’ll have to tread lightly with your father’s killer.”

“He loves my mother.” I can’t believe I’m entertaining the thought of selling my mom out to that maniac. “Marshall,” I shout, shaking him by the shoulders, “how am I going to have a life? How am I ever going to marry you, if the Counts keep draining me like some magical drinking fountain?”

“There is one remote possibility.” Marshall casts a glance out the window. “Let me consult with others. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you!” I bounce my forehead off his chest and let his feel good vibrations hum through my body like a song. “So what happened with Gage?”

“I’m afraid Jock Strap is hopelessly in love with my future bride.” He tilts his head. “Should I do away with him?”

“Swiftly,” I say, only half-teasing. “What did he say?”

Marshall leads me to the couch, and I lean my head over his shoulder as if he were about to tell me some haunted bedtime story—more like haunted love story, the kind without a happy ending.

“He found me just after midnight and told me about the stone, how the Pretty One and you were pinned with a blade. When I informed him there wasn’t a single thing I could do to alleviate your discomfort, he dropped to his knees. The look of grief on the poor boy’s face alerted me to something.”

“What’s that?” I stare up at Marshall’s fiery eyes. Each their own unique shade of burgundy.

“He feels just as strongly for you as I do.” Marshall focuses his gaze straight ahead. The fireplace roars to life without provocation. It brands the room in colors pink and gold. “I thought I understood love, knew the lay of the land—all of its inroads.” He sighs hard, landing a soft kiss to my temple. “I knew nothing of it until I met you, Skyla. You’ve redefined love for me. It’s sacred—anointed with the highest regard and blessing.”

I’ve never heard words like that from Marshall. His placating sexuality, his wry wit and humor are all gone, nothing but the naked form of a man underneath, declaring his love for me. Our eyes lock. A strong magnetic pull lures me to his lips, and everything in me longs for a kiss.

 “Yeah, well,” I say, shaking the idea away, “turns out Gage is Chloe’s pawn,” I inform.

“Is he?” Marshall raises a brow. “Or is she his?”

Chapter 11

The Party

Days bleed by. I tell Mom I’m not feeling well and miss the last two days of school, letting the rest of the week drip down to nothing without returning any calls to my newfound traitor—the boy who stole my heart then stomped all over it while I had a sword thrust in my chest. May as well have been him delivering the fatal blow.

The Saturday morning of the big graduation party, I trot downstairs to find the house alive with an assortment of unappreciated scents. An entire bouquet of vomit-like odors assaults my senses.

“What’s going on?” I ask, peering over Mom’s shoulder at a bubbling brew in what, honest to God, could double as a witch’s cauldron. Witchcraft, poison cuisine, her insatiable lust for Demetri the Celestra hunter—all clear evidence that my mother ditched her sanity once my father died. Her union with Tad should have tipped me off that permanent placement in a psychiatric facility is completely necessary. 

“Steel cut oats and spinach—Swiss Chard. I’m trying to make enough for the whole family.” She makes a face. “You know,” she whispers, looking past my shoulder briefly, “I have to say, I’m not appreciating the way Brielle and her mother are keeping the baby from us.”

“They are?” I’ve been lost in the bubble of betrayal and haven’t really noticed. It seems like Drake is gone all the time, so I assume he’s next door pulling daddy duty.

“Every time I go over, they say the baby’s napping and that I shouldn’t interrupt.” A clear look of hurt clouds her features. It seems lately her diaper dreams are being dashed from every angle.

Maybe it’s a good thing that she doesn’t spend that much time with baby Beau. It might inspire her to kick Operation Procreate back into high gear and get her mind off demented Demetri. Although, who knows what sexual shenanigans will ensue—and with who. 

“I’m sure they’ll bring the baby tonight,” I say, trying to offer her a pick me up. Half the town is coming, including the Oliver of my discontent.

“You’re right.” She pulls me in and inhales deeply.
And so will Demetri
. She squeals with a smile.

There it is. Proof positive she’s totally ready to dive into some serious philandering with my least favorite Fem.

Mia and Melissa bound into the kitchen and groan at the savorless offerings.

“All you ever cook is crap,” Melissa quips.

“Melissa!” Mom snaps.

“The child speaks the truth, Lizbeth.” Tad appears and plucks a bright green banana from the counter and attempts to peel it, but it’s sealed itself successfully from being digested by humans and Tad alike.

“Excuse me?” Mom’s eyes enlarge with a tempered rage. “This whole family is embracing a new healthy lifestyle, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t let
our
daughter speak to me in such an outright rude manner.”

“I’m not embracing anything that smells like crap.” Mia is quick to join the dissension in the ranks.

“The barf mobile called.” Melissa cackles. “It wants its puke back.”

“You’re such a dumbass,” Mia hisses into her.

“Shut up. You’re the dumbass,” Melissa snipes back.

“Girls!” Tad claps his hands. “Get dressed and clean up around here. Your mother invited an infantry to suckle off her feast.”

Tad has an annoying way of making everything sound disgustingly inappropriate. Mostly sane people are coming, so that crosses suckling off the list, and my mother is preparing the meal, so for sure there will be no feast.

Ethan wanders in with his hair sticking up in the back and yanks open the fridge without the proper Landon morning greeting, which consists of a bodily function salute—an offense they don’t mind dispensing all day long. Chloe saunters in after him in a barely-there silk nighty that dips just below her bottom.

Speaking of the offense.

“Morning, everyone.” Chloe bursts with uncalled for energy as she stretches to the ceiling, leaving her bottom exposed just long enough for it to sear itself in my nightmares. She stops short at the sight of me and scuttles on over. “Are you still breathing on the planet?” she whispers. “Aren’t you the lucky little captive running around Paragon like you might live to see another day?”

“Gage rescued me.” I hold out my ring. The sad blue stone may as well be filled with tears. Of course I’ll be yanking it off permanently once I get upstairs and then quite possibly scalding my finger as a punishment for donning the lie to begin with. 

“Must hurt like hell to have him fool you. I think he went way too far with it all.” She breathes the words out. “We should team up. Let the bastard have it.” Chloe brands the words in my ear.

Right. Like I’d ever fall into that bear trap again. The last time we teamed up, I had a starring role in a DVD loosely entitled,
Skyla Does Paragon
. I hear it’s still a big hit with the track team.

“So what are you thinking?” I follow her over to the coffee machine. I don’t mind mollifying Chloe’s need to bridge the gap in our non-existent friendship. I’m sure she’d pay to see me mutilate Gage’s reproductive organs—on second thought maybe not. I’m sure she dreams of desecrating those herself with a little help from her own reproductive organs. 

“I was thinking maybe a stabbing.” She pours herself a full cup of coffee, black as her heart.

“Invoking your specialty, I see.”

“Maybe you’d like to defer to yours and lop off a body part—one you haven’t seen before.” Chloe glows with delight at my lack of carnal knowledge.

“Like you have,” I hiss.

She needles me with her aggressive hatred. A dark smile blooms across her face.

“Why, yes, Skyla. I have.”

***

The evening comes wrapped in a foreboding grey fog. I dread the festivities that are about to descend upon us like some celebratory plague. I’m feeling lots of things and celebratory isn’t one of them.

“Skyla.” Mom snatches me by the shoulder as I make my way down the hall. “The party started an hour ago. Why are you being so rude?”

“I fell asleep—I’m still shaking off that flu. I didn’t want to get the baby sick.”

“He’s not here.” She twists her lips with disappointment. “It’s like they’re purposefully keeping him away from us. They said he’s fussy and hates people.”

“Genetically identical to Drake. Who knew?”

“You’re a real comedian.” She spins me toward the crowd. “Now get out there. Your fiancé has been asking for you since he got here. And eat something, would you? There’s tons of millet bread and quinoa.” She pauses before continuing down the hall to greet an entire bevy of unsuspecting souls who she plans on accosting with her progressive cooking regime—and to think all this culinary madness has ensued just to enhance her ovaries. “And there are five full batches of wheat germ chili that nobody’s even touched.”

I’m pretty sure adding the word “germ” doesn’t do a whole lot to enhance its appeal. In fact, I’m betting that lands it an automatic expulsion from every appetite in a twenty-mile radius. 

She scrunches her nose playfully. “And I even threw in some Kohlrabi.”

“Are you choking?” That or speaking in tongues—all things seem possible tonight.