“I didn’t bring her back.” I look to my mother in horror. “You did.” For so long I blamed my blood—hell, I blamed Dr. Oliver and his amped up stupidity to raise the dead, and here it wasn’t either of us. It was her all along.
My mother’s eyes cut into mine like a threat. “I let her live because you killed her. I absolved you of her death.” Her hand touches my left cheek, and she shows me the bloodstains on her fingertips. “I’m allowing you to keep your scars—the both of you. I’m rendering your Celestra healing properties useless,” she hisses the last word out with venom. “That’s what you get for refusing to honor my request. When I say enough, I mean it, young lady.”
My hand rises to my left cheek, and a thought comes to me. “This is a light drive.” I look up at my mother. “I can’t keep these scars.” A breath hitches in my throat. “Just like I couldn’t kill Chloe that day in the woods.”
Chloe strides up next to me, the two of us bloodied and bruised with our eyes fixed on the glowing creature before us as if she was about to unlock the secrets of the universe.
“The Counts”—I shake my head—“they killed Chloe and buried her at the base of Devil’s Peak.”
“You killed Chloe,” my mother counters. “You’ve cradled that fact for so long, Skyla. Why disown it now?”
A viral rage overtakes me. “You allowed me to kill Chloe.” My eyes widen with fright. “My God, why?” I hold out my bloodied hand. “You’re allowing me to keep these scars. I’m not really here, just like I wasn’t really there that night. I was a visitor. There are rules at play, and if it’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years of light driving, it’s the fact you can’t—”
“Change anything,” Chloe finishes my thought.
“Oh my God.” I stagger backward, my eyes still focused on the beast who bore me. “They killed Chloe, and it didn’t fit your narrative.” A thousand wild thoughts swim rabid through my mind. “You let me go back—it was revisionist history at its best. You needed me to kill her.” A strangled cry comes from my throat as my breathing grows rapid. “Oh God.” I look to Chloe, her naked torso still stained with a trail of crimson from my husband’s precious body—blood from his beautiful marrow spilling to that demonic passageway at the base of her hips. The things Chloe did with Gage. The things she forced his mouth to do to her. It’s unconscionable. But on par with that is the bone-chilling reason my mother had me knife Chloe down in the forest all those years ago. “You had me kill her so you could justify bringing her back.” The words squeak from my lips lower than a whisper. “It was for him, wasn’t it?” I look to the blood on Chloe’s thighs when I say it.
“Skyla”—my mother takes a step forward, a svelte finger in the air—“why do you suppose the Counts would kill Chloe?”
“I belong to Celestra,” Chloe is quick to interject where she is, neither wanted nor needed. She’s not the point of any of this. She never was. “A powerful Celestra who—”
“Shut up, Chloe.” I stagger back toward the door, my eyes still fixed on this monstrous version of me glittering like a fairy. “The Counts wanted you out of their way—out of my way. They—by proxy Demetri, didn’t want you getting in the way of Gage and me.” I swallow hard at the thought as my voice gives this theory new light. “Isn’t that right, Mother?” I shake my head at her. “But you wanted Chloe there because Gage Oliver is the last person you would have paired me with.”
Chloe looks to my mother with an open-mouthed smile at the epiphany. Finally, it’s happened. Both Chloe and my mother are on the same demented side of the fence.
My mother’s features tighten with rage. “And you, Skyla? You side with the enemy and demand to wed and bed the son of darkness, the one who will topple the Sectors and require the death of the Factions, who will singlehandedly dismantle your stronghold in the Nephilim kingdom. You fell headfirst onto their trap, you dove in like a swan, you were all too eager to spread your legs and bear his fruit.”
I race forward and connect my hand across her cheek so hard my entire arm stings from the effort.
“How dare you.” My voice is locked in a whispering rage. “Chloe Bishop herself is a monument to your impotent prowess. You are powerless. I’ve always known you have played me like a pawn. Logan, Gage, even Chloe herself knows this. But you looked right past the fact I loved Gage and fed me to the lions again and again. You made me kill! You made me fall in love with the enemy!”
“I demanded you choose Logan!” she riots in my face, her teeth elongated like sharpened blades. All of the color has drained from her. Here I am with my unfriendly ghost, this dangerous version of myself who clearly has no handle on what the future holds.
Chloe steps forward, her finger coiling around a lock of her hair, her eyes set to some unknowable horizon. “So it is true. Gage and I belong together.”
“No.” It comes out more of a childlike whimper. “You and Gage are nothing. You were just a diversion. Bringing you back was just another way for my mother to ensure I would be with Logan. But she was wrong. Gage and I were unstoppable. Gage never chose you. He would never choose you, Chloe. We both know that.”
“He will choose me.” She slits her eyes at me. “And this is how it ends.”
“This is not how it ends.” I stagger to the door in a blind rage. “This is not anywhere near how it ends.”
But a part of me is afraid it is.
I tear out of the basement, out of those haunted halls, and through the front door. I bolt over to the street, through the woods and come out on the other end, crossing the highway that bisects the island in half. My Celestra strength kicks in, and I run hard and fast for Rockaway, over its dark sand that glistens in the night like black diamonds, and I run straight into the sea. I run until the water saturates my gown like bread soaking in wine, and I howl a cry filled with an inexplicable ache until my shoulder blades surrender my wings, spanning out larger than ever in either direction and my body molts out of the weighted dress my mother gifted me. My feet release from those jewel encrusted slippers, and I float effortlessly into the sky, flying higher and higher, with each stroke of my wings as they glow a strange hue of blue, the same shade of those butterflies Gage pinned to my walls before the room was ever mine, the same intense ocean blue as his eyes.
I speed past the stratosphere, so high up that Earth is but a glowing speck. I fly fast, hard, determined to make it to heaven, to find my husband and bring him back with me, home to our boys, home in my arms where he belongs. But the sky has long given up its oxygen and my lungs beg to burst as I struggle to fill them. My muscles seize up and my wings wrap themselves around me like a useless sheath as I plunge back to Earth heavy as stone.
I watch as the ebony sky highlights its treasure, the beautiful stars sprayed across the universe, and how I envy their beauty, their effortless position in the grand scheme of things. I fall like lead into the cold waiting arms of the sea, my back lighting up with a sharp slap of pain, and I wonder if my mother will allow me to break my bones the way I deserve. I fall hard and fast, crashing through the icy waters like a bullet, my body racing to the pit of this bottomless sea, the light of the moon but a memory as darkness swallows me whole. The sound of rushing water deafens me, and bubbles escape my lips as I attempt to scream, the last breath in my lungs leaving my body in a beautiful spiral as it rushes to the surface without me. So this is how I end, alone and naked, a searing rush of fire in my lungs as I beg for my next breath. I can take in water, give up, go home to God—to Gage. But my boys run through my heart and I cannot bring myself to claim my death the way my body begs me.
A pair of arms wrap themselves around my waist. A mouth finds a home over mine. Strong arms propel us to the surface, and he lends me a breath. I don’t need to open my eyes to see who this blessed being is.
Marshall.
He always saves me. And tonight I wonder why.
We both understand that no good deed goes unpunished. Just how much will my love for him cost?
What exactly
is his agenda?
After all, everyone has one.
It’s about time I shore up my own.
Gage
It’s hard to break my gaze away from Elysian Fields. So verdant, so full of life. Yes, life, as in afterlife. I find a front row seat at a café just north of the Transport, the jasper cave that the dead are ushered through at this—the pinhole of light that is so fabled down on Earth. It’s right here in eternity, Ahava, paradise, heaven—call it what you like. And although it feels alarmingly normal to some extent, it is anything but. Not a soul over thirty, not a wrinkle in sight, beauty abounds, the sights and sounds beyond any earthly comprehension, the flowers, the green hillsides, the achingly bright sky. No sun, no moon, just the glory of the Lord filling every nook and cranny. His love permeating through each and every one of us. Not a fear or worry to strangle our spirits, just simply a peace that surpasses understanding.
“A refill?” A short brunette with a resplendent smile blinks down at me while holding up a silver carafe filled with the best damn coffee I have ever had.
I cut my hand through the air and shake my head. “I’m good, but thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She gives a flirtatious wink and lifts a shoulder coyly my way. “You’re new. I can tell. You all come in with that same dazed look on your face. Don’t worry. It gets better.” She shakes her head with a smile. “I pop in here regularly if you ever want to find me. I’d love to show you around sometime.” She bites down on her lip before trotting off with a giggle.
And there you go. I think I was just hit on. I shake my head at the thought while knocking back the remainder of my coffee from the porcelain mug rimmed with gold. I would swear my mother has this very same set back on Paragon, and I wince as I land the cup on the table.
Paragon. The memory of home spears through me with grief. Paragon is the sword that lances the wound wide open again. I try to force myself to look out at the fields, at the mobs of affection-hungry family and friends welcoming home their loved ones. Every few seconds a round of cheers breaks out from that verdant pasture as another soul is ushered to his or her eternal standing.
The café I’m at is multi-leveled with all of its patios and balconies facing north. It turns out, watching souls make their heavenly debut is something akin to a spectator sport and one that brings me great joy to witness despite the pain in my non-beating heart.
That jasper cave calls to me again, and I soak it in with its red bulbous surface, so beautiful and yet so poignant. One day Skyla herself will grace the mouth of that cave. I have no doubt Dudley himself will usher her home. But I’ll be waiting for her. Right alongside Logan, I presume.
Skyla and our brief time on Paragon run through my mind. Each and every moment rolls by in what feels like real time. From the moment we met, our first kiss, to the moment we married, to that blessed day we held those tiny trembling babes in our arms. My God, how I miss her kisses, her flesh searing over mine, her beautiful hips tucked into my stomach as I slept with her safe in my arms. What a privilege. What a shame it all went by so quickly. But how do you convey to a person how precious life is? How do you let them know they should savor the feel, enjoy every moment with their loved ones? It’s impossible. We’re too wrapped up in bills, in surviving, in getting out of school, finding a job, quitting a job we hate. The great deception in life is that the details eating us alive mean anything at all. They don’t. They’re simply distractions from the things that really matter. Smiling at a loved one. Spending time with them. Just soaking in another human being’s presence and realizing how damn lucky you are to be there. To be anywhere living and breathing on planet Earth. I would do anything to get back there—but not in the way they’re sending me. No. Anything but that. I would do anything to have the old me back. To rewind time and freeze it to that last night Skyla and I spent in our tiny little house, with our tiny little boys, making love until the sun rose and then not bothering to stop because we could never get enough. That day alone was perfection. If I could relive one day on a loop, it would be that one. I wonder if Skyla feels the same? After all, it was the day of my death as well.
I glance back to the sweeping lawn of Elysian Fields and force myself to pay attention to the joy exuded by all those happy faces. And yes, there are happy tears. Here in eternity elation runs the show. It is the tall order of the day—in a day that never ends. Happiness, outright joy reigns supreme. This is the end game in a fixed fight that gives everyone who believes a glorious prize—life and life everlasting.
The sweet scent of aloe fills the divine air, and I take in a lungful. Ironic how these non-bodies look, feel, and act as if they were the real deal. But I’m glad about it. It’s a relief in the midst of the storm, a small token of normalcy in a very unnatural world.
A dark shadow to my left tugs at my attention, and I look up to find a familiar sopping wet Sector.
“Dudley.” I rise to greet him and wrap my arms around him in a tight embrace. “I always knew you were a wet blanket.” I slap him over the shoulder before pulling back. During my tumultuous time on Earth, Dudley wasn’t my favorite character, but here in eternity, I have a brotherly affection for him and I know for a fact this feeling will never depart. “You were with her, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” He shivers as his suit, his hair dries out in an instant. “Don’t let me interrupt. Please sit.”
“I’m done. I’d rather walk around—stretch the legs I don’t quite have.” It’s true. But a society without flesh isn’t all that different from one robed in it. God has provided the feel, the effect without the earthly trouble of it all. With the exception of the Messiah, we are all a ghostly bunch.
Dudley leads us past the Transport, offering one of his Sector cohorts a brief nod. It’s pretty simple to tell who’s who in this realm, the Sectors, and yes, the Fems, the powers, the principalities, the angels and their differing orders, the human souls—they all have a distinct look, a feel. That, along with the fact we have a knowing—a deep resonating understanding that has seeped down into our souls. We know. We know about life. We understand how love works. We see the hierarchy of needs and how most of us had them backward during our tenure on the planet. We know that the brief stint we had in coats of flesh was just a preview—a taste of what we could have—the true gift, which is birthed through salvation. We chose life. We tasted with our own mouths and saw that it was good—that He was good.
“Tell me what happened,” I say it low, for his ears only. “I want to know everything.”
Dudley grunts, “What happens on Earth is none of your concern anymore. You are here. You are home.”
A crowd erupts in cheers deep in the emerald fields, and Marshall offers up an impromptu applause as we veer right and head for the crystalline shores of Ahava.
“Skyla was hurting, and you went to her.” I nod into this admission. “You are her helpmate. I can see that now.” I frown over at him. “But I also know that you want her. You desire her. And as much as I’d like to, I can’t fault you for that. She’s beautiful. And she’s mine.” A tight smile comes and goes on my lips because I outright refused to put it in past tense. “Where’s Logan? He said he’d be back.” The old Logan, the dead one in paradise. He was among the first to greet me, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. “It’s been a while.” A while is about right in a place that knows time on a different scale. I’m not sure about the parameters of time or the ratio in which it’s utilized here in eternity, but something of that nature does exist. I suppose I always believed this realm was outside of time, but now I see it’s simply outside of time as we once knew it.
“I do love her,” he concedes. “My affection for her runs inconceivably deep. Shall I hide my feelings from you? I can’t. It’s a waste, and we both know it. She’s in pain, but that’s to be expected.” His affect darkens as he looks past me in the distance, past the shoreline into the woods that are swallowed up with a brilliant illumination. The lights mingling with the trees remind me
distinctly of Paragon robed in fog. It makes me yearn for home, my old home so I don’t look in that direction. “Have they spoken to you yet?”
“They?” I glance around for reference.
“Demetri? The Fems? The Master?”
A twinge of pain surges through me at the way he bundled the Master in there with Demetri and the Fems. In an effort to venerate Him, I don’t think we should bundle the Master with anyone.
“No.” I follow his gaze to see Demetri, Nathan, and Sage headed in this direction, and my heart soars at the sight of my sweet daughter. I’ve already spent copious amounts of time with both of them since my arrival, but I can’t help the unmitigated glee each time I see her. I bend over and hold my arms out as Sage runs for me. I can see Skyla there hiding in her smile, but the rest of her is almost a carbon copy of my former self. “And here she is!” She crashes in my arms, and I land a heated kiss over the top of her head. In every way she is solid. Her dark hair is so very soft, I can feel every follicle pressed against my lips. There is no shortage of illusion when it comes to these artificial bodies. It almost makes the real ones seem like insignificant details.
“Daddy! You’re always so happy to see me.” She dots my face with a series of kisses. Her blue eyes shine brighter than the Ahava skies as she pulls back to inspect me. “Demetri has taken Grandpa and me on a tour of that dreadful realm he’s gifted you.” She pulls back and sneers at him. “I hate it. I won’t allow you to rule in such a disgusting dungeon. How dare he offer it to you in the first place.”
“Sage.” Nathan offers a loving reprimand. Nathan is the one who truly holds Skyla’s features. It’s subtle, though, nothing like Candace. Candace Messenger is like looking at Skyla herself until she opens her mouth and lets the insults fly. It’s safe to say I don’t have a true home in Candace Messenger’s heart. Not really.
Demetri bows to her. “Your opinion is duly noted.”