Throne of Fire Read online

  Nathan bucks to life and lets out a wild cry as I land him over the changing table just under the window. Gage rouses to life himself and sits up on his elbows, his eyes glossy and red. It’s amusing to note that our new bodies will rely on sleep as well—or at least they’ll enjoy the hell out of it. I for one am glad about it. Asking me to give up sleep is tantamount to asking me to give up air.

  “Everything okay?”

  Just as I’m about to assure him everything is under control, I pull open Nathan’s diaper to reveal what looks like a bowl of brownie batter leaking all over the place.

  Nathan kicks and bucks his legs and—the splatter! Oh God, the SPLATTER!

  “No!” I cry as Nathan smears his legs, his socks, my shirt, my hair with the mess. “Oh my God!” I shout so loud it sends Gage bolting to the bathroom with Barron as if seeking protection. Nathan tries to stand, and I scream as I do my best to wrestle him down. “God help me!” I shout as the warm ooze of wet shit squishes through my fingers, under my fingernails, on and in my shirt. MY GOD, IT’S ON MY FACE! “Gage!” I look to him as I try my best to restrain our older son. “Help me!”

  He puts a giggling Barron down in his crib and tosses a box of baby wipes my way. His shirt is pulled over his nose, and his body bucks as he progressively gags.

  “I can’t.” He retches as if he might vomit, and I pause in the mire and the muck—neck deep in shit to glare at him. “I’m sorry. I’m going to be sick.”

  “You’ve got a new body!” I scream as he lunges for the sink. “Don’t you have a shut-off valve for that nose?”

  Nathan kicks me in the gut and lets out a wild grunt. No sooner do I double over than a brown projectile stream shoots up at me.

  I jump back and examine myself, thoroughly sprayed from head to foot with prune juice that’s been recirculating through my son’s aching body.

  “ARRRGGHHHHH!” I howl so loud, so long, every living creature in the house stills for one blissful moment.

  In a twisted way, Tad was right. Looks like I have Demetri to thank for this.

  I frown over as Gage watches from the bathroom with a washcloth over his mouth.

  “Some team player you are, Oliver.” I hold up my slimy hands and growl.

  A dimpled grin emerges as he pulls back the towel for a moment. “How about I find a way to make it up to you later? We can start with a shower. Many, many showers.”

  “I like where you’re headed.”

  Nathan sucker punches me in the gut with his bionic foot, and another squirt of Demetri’s remedy sprays my way. Dear God, Demetri has only been here for an hour, and already he’s a curse to this family. Who knows what living with him indefinitely will do.

  Nothing good will come of this.

  It smells like shit already.

  Days melt by and I finally manage to get Nathan and Barron to regulate their systems. Turns out, Barron was simply holding off his digestive issues, and it was a repeat performance of what we went through with Nathan sans the dramatic amount of prune juice. Em helped me find a far more healthier balance that didn’t quite turn my son into a fountain of poop.

  But today, Tad has gone off to work—war rather—on Raven’s Eye, and Gage asked if I would mind running an errand to the Transfer with him. Of course, I agreed because it’s the perfect time for me to try to reprogram Laken’s gray matter. Up until now I’ve been reprogramming the boys’ bellies. It will be a cold day in hell when I ask Melissa to sit with my children again. Especially after another Messenger has pissed her off so royally. I don’t care if Mia changed her last name to Landon, she’s still got my blood.

  But today, Mom graciously offered to watch the boys for me. She and Demetri were having tea out on the patio doing who knows what while cloaked in a bed of fog. At least this way I know the boys will be safe. My mother and Demetri might be a terrible combo in a lot of ways, but I know they’ll take good care of Nathan and Barron.

  Gage teleports—or whatever voodoo it is he’s using—us to the Transfer, and the dark grim world that the Counts hold as their own slowly forms around us.

  A cool chill runs through the air, and the sky looks a darker shade of violet today. Wesley’s macabre mansion stands before us in all its haunted glory. It’s basically the OG Transfer mansion on steroids and a close copy of Demetri’s home on Paragon. Wesley’s haunt has a bit more of a medieval flare to it. Not a big shocker since Wes seems determined to go medieval on all of civilization in the name of the Barricade. Who are we kidding? It’s his own name he’s looking to find fame and fortune for. At the end of the day, I bet he couldn’t care less about the Counts, the Barricade, or his wicked father. Certainly not Gage.

  We head in, and Gage makes a beeline for Wes by the fireplace. I can’t help but fight the urge to run over and push Wes in. It would be so easy to end it all that way, but knowing Demetri he’ll have ten other sons crop up in his place. Messing with Demetri is like playing whack-a-mole with evil.

  “Where’s Laken?” I ask, momentarily interrupting their hushed tones and fevered voices. Whatever Gage came for, it seems rather vital.

  Wesley’s jaw tightens a moment as he looks to the hall. “She was with Tobie last I checked. FYI, Ezrina is in the lab with Coop.” Ah, so that’s why he looked a bit miffed. I’m sure he’s sick of Coop sniffing around, but I have to give Wes props for not stopping him either. I’m not sure why Wes is playing good guy here. He’s either totally confident of his victory over Laken’s heart or he’s willing to see where destiny takes the three of them one more time. Huh. So not like Wes.

  “I think I’ll run over to the lab and check up on those two real quick. You guys go ahead and do whatever you need. Don’t mind me!” I bolt out the door and to the old lab where I was once held against my will, left in Ezrina’s charge mind you. Marshall had something to do with that. It seems most of my most dangerous incarcerations, my most nearly lethal limb removals all came from Marshall’s orders. My stomach turns slightly at the thought. In retrospect, Marshall is far more dangerous than I give him credit for. He has no problem disrupting my life or causing me pain—that arm thing was no picnic.

  The Transfer is alive with its jolly ghostly guests all walking along the shadowed cobbled paths in clusters of four and five. Women in hoop skirts, men who look as if they belong in silent movies. The ragtime brigade itself blocks the cave-like entry to the lab, and I know better than to ask them to move. They’re too busy laughing and chattering away in some indistinguishable language that’s far too low in volume for me to ever hear properly. So instead of trying to scatter the lost souls, I walk right through them. My entire body fills with cold pressing chills as I permeate myself partially through a large woman, then a rail thin man. The entire lot of ghostly stragglers—the traveling gentry as my mother referred to them—make a harrowing shrill cry as they disperse in every direction at once, and a mild jolt of electrocution runs through me as they scatter. I let myself into the nefarious portal that leads to the lab, and soon I’m enveloped in a stark white world. The light stench of bleach lingers in the air as I make my way down the twisted elongated halls. I come upon Ezrina’s original chop shop and find both Cooper and the cadaver queen herself hunched over a microscope. There are dozens of them set out, and something is simmering on the stove in the corner—smells like popcorn, despite the fact it’s a bubbling brew. The elongated metal bed that I was once in myself lies in the center of the room and next to it on a flimsy metal table lie a dozen or so instruments of torment. When Ezrina left this place for good, she took as much as she could carry—hell, she made multiple trips. But it looks as if Wes has made sure to stock it right back up, with nothing but the best, I’m sure.

  “Skyla.” Ezrina doesn’t bother to turn around when she says my name, but Cooper does and I go over and offer him a quick hug.

  “What’s going on?” He looks calm, handsome as Logan, and just like Logan, I can see a thin veil of pain in his eyes.

  “I just came down to visit
Laken but thought I’d come over first. You want to come with?”

  “Yes.” He doesn’t hesitate with the answer. “Let me run a quick errand and get cleaned up. I’ll be right back.”

  Ezrina turns around with that Chloe face of hers, and I startle. It’s always a fresh insult to see Chloe even if I’m expecting it. But Ezrina has been steadily dying her hair a rich shade of crimson, and she’s far less worried about taming her curls so she does look a bit like herself in that frizzy respect.

  Coop takes off, and I head to the microscope. “What ya looking at?” I peek in the one Coop was glued to and see nothing but a bunch of blue squiggly lines.

  “Primordial ooze.” She slaps off the power on the wall, and the entire string of microscopes lose their illumination. “Wesley has captured a Spectator.” Ezrina glares at me as if this were my fault.

  “Oh, okay. That’s nothing new, right? After all, he has them staged all over the planet. The feds don’t have them all, you know.”

  “Know.” Her determined eyes are still pegged to mine. “Flanders is helping me unlock the DNA. I’ve restored them before Skyla, but it’s temporary.” She shakes her head.

  “It must suck working for Wes. You know you could do this in the Wonderground. You have a state-of-the-art lab. And that way you can be near Alice.”

  “Alice and Heathcliff are here. They’re visiting old friends in the reserve beyond the blackened hillside.” She pulls a tray of tools up and begins dunking them into a blue solution. “I’m not working for Wesley, Skyla. I’m working for Gage.” She looks to me for a reaction.

  “Oh.” My stomach bottoms out. “That’s great. I mean, I know he has projects of his own now that he’s here.” And then it hits me. “And I guess he wants to revert the Viden youth back to their natural state. That’s very noble of him. I’m sure you’ll fix this dilemma for him.”

  “And create a new one for our people.”

  I lean in even though there’s probably no point in whispering. I have no doubt Wes has this entire place bugged. “How about the markers? Are you able to hide them?” If Wes can’t help the feds identify our people that will put him at square one.

  Her stone cold eyes flit to the door then back to me. Her lips crack a slight smile, and I know for a fact she’s speaking in code. “No,” she flatlines before glancing to the ceiling.

  “That’s too bad.” My eyes widen because I think she means yes. Holy crap! This is huge. I bet Ezrina is on the knife’s edge of cracking the code. I can’t wait to tell Gage! Oh, wait. I don’t think that’s such a good idea anymore. My entire body feels brittle as ice at the thought of living a double life with my husband. “Hey, can I ask you a question about Laken? Do you think we’re any closer to regaining her memory?”

  Ezrina’s features soften, something that happens far too rarely for it to ever feel right. “Skyla”—she presses my name out in a hiss—“Laken will never be the same.” She takes off her glasses and sets them aside as she steps in close. I’ve never seen this nurturing side of Ezrina before, and personally, it scares the hell out of me. My heart thumps unnaturally as I glance to the door in the event Cooper decides to walk in mid-flight. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing anyone can do to revert her back to her prior state. Her memory has been effectively wiped clean, and even if it did come back on its own, she is a new person now—with new feelings. Those would not necessarily go away. The old would blend with the new. A new pattern has been formed. She is wholly a different person.”

  “Oh God.” I swallow hard as Coop comes in and strides on over.

  “What?” He looks from Ezrina to me.

  Ezrina nods. “Told her.” She replaces her glasses on her face and heads over to tend to whatever brew she has bubbling on the stove.

  “So you know.” Coop crosses his arms over his chest as if he were good and pissed. “Don’t worry, Skyla. I’m going to power through this. I’m still going to end up with Laken. I can feel it in my bones.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. For a second I thought Coop would go ape and destroy everything in this haunted dimension. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

  “Well”—I wrap an arm around him as we stagger to the hall—“there’s only one thing left to do. Make sure Laken falls in love with you again. She did it once. And with a little help from me, she can do it again.” I thread my arm through his, and we make our way down the white tunnels, out past—through—a boisterous crowd of Transfer dwellers and head straight into Wesley’s monolithic home.

  The air is heated from the raging fire he has going twenty-four seven, and I spot Gage and Wes seated at the base of that overgrown globe in the center of the room called Tears Over Creation—or Tears Over Paragon. I can’t remember which. It’s a large ball of granite that sits in a colander of water about five to six feet across at least, and when you spin the enormous rock, it drowns the world with water. Drowning the world. Huh. That’s sort of a metaphor for what the Barricade has planned.

  Cooper and I don’t bother with hello. Not only don’t I want to interrupt them, but I don’t want Wes getting his panties in a bunch over the fact Coop is here to steal Laken’s heart.

  “So how you doing?” Coop slings his arm around my shoulders. “You okay with Gage buddying up to the enemy?”

  “Gage is the enemy.” I push the words through a newly formed lump in my throat. I will never get used to that statement no matter how true it is.

  “So he’s a different person.”

  “No, he’s entirely the same,” I’m quick to protest the idea.

  “Skyla”—he pushes my name out slow—“there’s no way he can be the same person if he’s the enemy. I’m sorry to say it, but something has changed.” His eyes pull down, and Coop looks heartbreakingly sad for the both of us. “Something major has changed.”

  “Something major,” I parrot back low as if whispering a secret. God, I hate that he’s right.

  Coop lets out a deep breath as we head to Tobie’s room where Laken jumps to her feet, happy to see us.

  “The little princess just woke from her nap.” She scoops up a sleepy Tobie, and I can’t believe how long she is. “Are you here for the books?” Her face brightens as if she truly has no problem leading us into Wesley’s private literary reserves.

  “Yes, actually.” I’m just about to lunge for Tobie, but Coop beats me to it.

  “I’ll carry her for you.” He presses out a warm smile as he lands Tobie over his hip. “You shouldn’t be carrying her in your state.” He gives a soft glance over Laken’s features, and my heart shatters for the two of them. Coop might feel the pain of their separation, but Laken would die a thousand deaths on the inside if she were truly aware of what’s going on. “How are you feeling?” Coop asks so casually as if it were any other day, as if she were carrying his child, and I’d give anything for that to be true.

  Laken grunts as she leads us down the long drafty hall, its walls decorated with swords and sabers of every shape and size. “I feel horrible. I can’t keep anything down in the morning. But thankfully, Ezrina gave me some ginger concoction that she said really helped with her own morning sickness, and it seems to have eased it a bit.”

  We get to what amounts to the dungeon, and Coop gives the oversized wooden door a push and turns on the light. A series of chandeliers blink to life in this vast and spacious library. The walnut flooring and shelves are stained a rich dark chocolate, and there’s about a dozen large round granite tables dotting the center of the room lending it an authentic library feel. There’s not a hint of must or dust in the air as the sweet scent of parchment permeates our senses.

  Laken turns to Coop and me as she leads us through the center of the book-based spectacle. “Wesley says he drew his inspiration from Ephemeral.” Her shoulders give a light bounce as we enter a smaller room in the back, and the sound of our footsteps become hushed. “I don’t really remember my time there.” She gives a shy glance to Coop, and Tobie starts in on a hearty speech that
involves Daddy. As much as I can’t stand what Wes is doing and what he represents, oddly, in a weird way, I like him. For sure, I think he’s not the world’s worst father. And that’s about as close as I can come to complimenting him.

  Coop sets Tobie down in a chair, and Laken quickly produces paper and crayons for the cute little tot.

  I run my fingers through Tobie’s dark curls. “So I’m guessing this isn’t Tobie’s first rodeo in the library?”

  “Nope.” Laken bubbles with a laugh, her hand lands lovingly splayed over her stomach, and Coop sheds a soft smile. Cooper Flanders deserves an award. He loves Laken so much I’m betting he already loves that baby as if it were his own. “I come down as often as I can. I’ve always been a bit of a bookworm. Plus, Wesley is insistent I learn as much about the Factions as possible. He’s very transparent with me.”

  Coop and I steal a moment to roll our eyes at each other while Laken pulls down volume after hefty volume of old decrepit texts, and soon Cooper takes over for her until she determines it’s enough. “That will do. Of course, the two of you are welcome to come down anytime you like. I asked Wesley, and he said it was fine.” She purses her lips my way. “And I know what you’re thinking, that I’m some prisoner who needs to ask permission to speak. I’ll have you both know I have and will never let Wesley Parker tell me what I can do or say. And believe you me, he knows that well.” Her brows bounce as she and Coop take their seats. She spreads the books out before us. “You might have seen Nephilim texts before, but these—” She draws forth an oversized leather-bound book with an eye engraved into the cover along with other intricate designs that I can’t quite make out. It almost looks like ancient script. “The Hallowed Tomes written by our Nephilim predecessors are the real gems. There are three volumes in the series. The illustrations themselves are priceless. I’ve never seen such intricate detail. And it perfectly outlines the Factions and how to delineate battle orientation. It talks in depth about war, but Wes said you’ve done that. Celestra won.” Her expression deflates. “Anyhow, take a look. Not anywhere in this book will you find something that claims the Countenance is wicked.”