Merry Christmas!
Welcome to a special holiday edition of the Tuesday Tease. I
thought since my favorite holiday fell on a Tuesday this year I’d do something
a little out of the ordinary.
Here’s a Celestra snippet that may or may not be a part of
ELYSIAN, (the final book in the Celestra Series.)
Happy reading!
I hope Santa brings it all!!!
~It's a Not-so-Wonderful Life~
(Marshall and
Skyla, Christmas Eve)
Mia and Melissa
sit on the floor texting each other with their new phones with nothing but the
colorful Christmas lights to brighten the room. A tidal wave of wrapping paper
surrounds them and it looks magical, the silver foil sprayed with rainbow colored lights—even Tad’s annoying tinsel holds a regal beauty at this late hour,
reflecting blues and purples.
Outside the window,
the navy sky is stamped with charcoal colored clouds—a wash of moonlight shines
over the ground, bright as a spotlight.
I roll off the
couch and make my way outside. There’s nothing in me that can mirror the joy of
my sisters. Not even holding little Beau tonight on his first official
Christmas was enough to pull me out of this funk.
It’s cold outside.
The wind licks at my ankles and the iced porch seeps right through my socks. I
head out toward the woods regardless of the Arctic chill. This is one of those
moments in life where you wish the black of night would swallow you whole and
you’d cease to exist forever.
“Midnight stroll?”
A male voice booms from behind.
I don’t need to
turn around to know its Marshall.
I lunge at him and
wrap my arms around him so tight, you’d think he just rescued me from a burning
building.
“No need for all
the teen angst.” He buries a kiss in my hair. “A simple Merry Christmas will
do.”
“Merry Christmas.”
I give him a quick peck square on the lips.
“Now tell me why
you’re out here, and not in there trying out the new clothes I’ve lined your
closet with.” He growls with his signature sexual leer.
“Because I’m
pretty sure they’re illegal.” I roll my eyes as I envision the parade of lacy
frilly numbers that I’ll have one hell of a time explaining once my mother
catches sight of them. “A hooker would blush wearing those things.” I try to
keep a smile from hedging on my lips.
“They’re not
street clothes, Skyla. It’s a private reserve for our soon-to-be expansive
couple time.”
“About that”—I
bury my face in the warmth of his chest a moment before pulling back—“Marshall,
I can’t take this. I’ve become a poison that kills everything she touches—everyone
she loves.”
“Well then, you
must hate me because I’m still standing. And I assure you, I’m quite virile.”
He takes up my hand and we begin to stroll through the maze of pale birch trees
with their chalky bark.
I glance up at the
deep cobalt sky through the gnarled branches and a sense of peace begs to take
over this horrible foreboding, but I wont let it.
“You know,
sometimes Marshall, I wish I was never born. I’m sure it would have been a lot
less trouble for everyone all around—me included.”
Marshall wraps an
arm around my waist and pulls me in.
“Why don’t we
verify this rather morose theory of yours.”
“And how will we
do that?” I glance up at his well-chiseled features—that gorgeous head of hair
that reflects the glow of the moonlight. I can’t help but note a sparkle of
excitement in his eye. I’m sure his “verification” methods are engineered to
land me on his mattress.
He gives the
impression of a wicked grin. “That, too shall come to pass but first—I’ll
simply reverse the natural order of the last eighteen years while we take a little
joy ride through time.”
Marshall doesn’t
wait for my approval. He waves his hand in the air and the woods, the soot
covered sky converge in a whirlpool of color, and we spin in a downward spiral
as if he had just flushed all of Paragon down the toilet.
And with my luck,
he just may have.
***
The sky opens up to
a tangerine expanse. The familiar perfume of warm roses, mixed with smog,
assures me we’re in LA. It’s this scent exactly that has bookmarked itself in
my mind as the marker of my old home.
Marshall lands us
at an opulent estate, a tall white mansion with miles of garland looping around
the property. A few cars sit out front while people mill inside the palatial
estate, enjoying a holiday party.
“You did it!” I
give a little jump holding tight to his hand. “This is really the world without
me in it?”
“Indeed it is, and
I wouldn’t be so giddy, Ms. Messenger. It’s not all smog and roses you know.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Come.” Marshall walks us through the iron
gate as if it were nothing but a vapor, he speeds to the oversized McMansion
and we walk through the tall glossy doors swift as apparitions.
A familiar
Christmas carol plays throughout the opulent home as we make our way into the
party.
“Oh look!” I point
over to an all-familiar, strapping man, holding a drink in hand and sharing a
laugh with friends. “There’s my dad.” Everything in me sighs as I take him in.
“Not your father,”
Marshall says, strolling us through the expensively dressed crowd. “You don’t
exist, remember?”
“Oh.” A thread of
disappointment runs through me. “I sort of forgot about that.”
A giant Christmas
tree is lit up with a million white lights at the far end of the room, and I
distinctly recognize the redhead belting out a laugh.
“There’s Mom!” I
squeal like a schoolgirl. “Am I going to see how they met?” I’m fascinated by
this. I should have Marshall blip me out of existence more often.
“Heaven’s no.
They’ve already met. Lizbeth was a bridesmaid at his wedding a year ago.”
“A what?” The room
warps with my surprise.
“Careful, love.
We’re in a delicate state of being.”
“So, Dad married
someone else? It’s Candace isn’t it?” I wouldn’t put it past my celestial
mother to simply have another version of me. That’s always been the underlying
truth—she never quite needed me.
“She indeed needed
you, Skyla or you wouldn’t have been born in the first place.” Marshall points
over to a toasted blonde with a silver lame pantsuit that makes feel like I’m
going to have a seizure just looking at it. “That’s your father’s bride. She’s
expecting twins. Two boys. All holy hell will break loose once she spawns the
little demons.”
“What?” I gasp in
horror.
A bell goes off
near the tree and all eyes are directed toward the illuminated ode to Christmas
foliage. And what to my wandering eyes should appear but Demetri Freaking
Edinger.
“What does he
want?” I spit it out low, suddenly disgusted by the horrible turn of events.
“Please, everyone
I bid you a moment of your attention,” he calls it out over the crowd and the
room hushes to a whisper. “I want to thank you all for coming out.” He gleams
his wicked scowl as he scans the room and squints a special smile in my
direction. “My bride and I will be leaving shortly on our honeymoon, but please,
stay and enjoy the festivities. Santa arrives at eight.” He lifts his drink
high in the air.
“Shit.” I watch in
horror as Demetri makes his way to my mother and seals his lips over hers.
The room starts in
on a low-lying tremble, then gyrates violently, and the crowd lights up with
scream as Marshall and I disappear.
***
“Do control your
emotions dear.” Marshall smoothes out his shirt. “I’d hate to have my visa revoked by the Decision Council for
disrupting the unnatural order of things.”
“That was
disgusting,” I say, taking in our new surroundings.
A bevy of bodies
clutter up a darkened living room and for a second I think we’re at one of
Ellis’s morally bankrupt parties only to discover a far more familiar layout.
“We’re at the Oliver house! I’m much more relived to be here, than Demetri’s hornets
nest in a reality where he weds my mother.”
“We’ll see about
that.” Marshall walks us through the crowd and tempers his body to the rhythm
of the loud raucous music booming through the speakers. “Oh, yippy”—he bleeds a
nefarious smile without the proper enthusiasm—“here comes Jock Strap now.”
Gage. Those deep
wells dig in on either side of his face as he gives one of his killer smiles. For
a minute I think maybe he’s smiling at me until a brunette, wearing nothing but
a not-so-long T-shirt, runs up and uses his body as pole.
“Who the hell is
that?”
“That is a girl who has had her sights on
young Oliver for quite some time now. And is she ever glad you’ve never taken
up space on the planet—or least she would be.” He nods over toward the hug fest.
I want to hurl at
the sight of her over zealous limbs rubbing up against him. Honest to God, it
hurts just to be facing their direction.
Her long tan legs,
her flowing dark mane remind me a lot of Chloe but thankfully she’s not the
skank in question.
Gage gently
removes her and takes a step away. His smile fades as he makes small talk.
“Ha!” I laugh in
the face of Marshall’s botched up plan to drive me insane with jealousy. “I can
totally tell he’s not interested. According to his body language, he’s looking
for a quick escape.”
“It’s true. His
heart is full of sorrow.”
I feel horrible.
I’m almost afraid to ask why.
“That’s right,
Skyla. He senses a part of him is missing. He’s quite the brooding artist,
sinking himself in his poetry—those morose metrical compositions take up most
his day and night. He’ll be famous for them one day but not until well after
his death.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Don’t feel too
badly. Prior to his rather untimely demise, he marries the very girl that he’s
trying to avoid.”
“No!” It gasps
from me. “I mean… they don’t even look good together.” Now there’s a lame
excuse to keep someone for myself when I don’t even technically exist.
“Give her about ten
years time and she’ll agree with you. She leaves him for a minor league
baseball player. Oliver will have sole custody of the children, though. It’s
not all doom and gloom for the blue-eyed sage. There’s a second nuptial on the
horizon shortly after that.”
“Children?” The
thought of Gage procreating with half-dressed skanks makes me feel like someone
just threw a brick at my chest. And, another bride? I don’t like this one
freaking bit. “That’s….”
“Not what you
expected?”
“At least Chloe’s
not in the picture.”
“Things couldn’t
be further from the truth.” He nods just past my shoulder at a rather wasted
brunette doing what looks like a sloppy rendition of a lap dance over some guy…
and holy shit I think that’s Logan!
“That is Logan!” I try to make my way over,
but Marshall holds me back.
“Relax. You don’t
exist, remember? Besides, she’s simply trying to make Jock Strap writhe with
jealousy.”
“Does Logan know
this?” As much as I hate the thought of her trying to rile up Gage, I hate the
fact she’s using Logan to do it.
“He doesn’t mind
one bit. In fact, Chloe is simply one of many in a long line of women trailing
around the block to get on the Logan express.”
“That’s
disgusting. Get me out of here right now.” I try to yank Marshall out the door,
but he’s screwed his feet into the floor and doesn’t budge.
“Leave now? Why—the party is just getting
started. Look at this…” He motions back over to Logan.
I’m half-afraid to
witness anymore of the carnage. I peer around Marshall’s chest only see Michelle
and Lexy pawing all over the golden Oliver.
“I thought you
were going to show me something new.” I almost breathe a sigh of relief because
I know for a fact Logan’s not really interested in either of them. “Remember
that time I thought Michelle was having your baby and it was really Brielle
knocked up with Drake’s twisted seed?” I give a little chuckle.
Marshall sneers
into my stab at humor.
“Observe,” he
gravels it out low.
Begrudgingly I
glance back at Logan. He looks like a God, with his smile beaming, his face
radiating all kinds of outrageous levels of joy—only his eyes are closed and
wait…where the hell are Lexy’s hands anyway?
Michelle climbs up
and sits on his shoulders and I have a feeling things have slipped past the NC
17 portion of evening.
“I don’t know what
the hell they’re doing but please get me out of here.” I go to bury my face in
Marshall’s chest just as a dark-haired boy with steel blue eyes catches my gaze
and his face starts in on a slow spreading smile.
“He sees me,” I
say mesmerized as I make my way to Gage.
He comes at me
with a slow and determined gate, his chest as wide as a wall. I can make out
the muscles under his T-shirt as they ripple on through.
Gage pulls back
his cheek and his dimple lights up on the left, melting me on the inside with a
pleasure that sweeps away this incurable ache.
Our lips crash in
one resplendent exchange. His mouth covering mine with its warmth but something
about his kiss feels resistive on every level.
Marshall yanks me
away by the elbow.
“Now, now, do
refrain from possessing Ms. Bishop. Should she be apprised of the situation, a
head might be required per her specialty.
“Chloe?” I look
back at Gage to see him trying to peel Chloe off his person. “He was kissing
Chloe?”
The room warps
with my words. Logan looks over at me and for the first time I think he
actually sees me. He leaps in our direction just as the room reduces to soot.
“Skyla!” I hear
his voice echo through the strange chambers of time as Marshall hustles us off
to yet another direction.
***
“He saw me.” I
marvel at Marshall as a deep purple wall warbles in and out all around us.
“He did, didn’t
he?” Marshall is less than impressed by Logan’s supernatural feat. “Nonetheless,
there’s one more thing I need for you to see.”
“What is it?” I
take in the creepy environment as it fades to an ethereal space somewhere high
above the earth with a nest of lightning rotating above us like an electrically
charged guillotine ready to shred us to pieces.
“The Faction
Council has gathered. There’s an announcement to be made in just a few
moments.” Marshall zips us toward the tiny blue marble we call home.
A scene appears.
We’re in an oversized room, lined with tables full of cookies. The scent of
burnt coffee lies thick in the air. I recognize this place as Nicholas Haver’s
overgrown barn where the Faction Council meets on Paragon.
“The faction
leaders have spoken.” A voice emits from the front and sitting at a long
plastic table is none other than Nicolas himself. “Celestra shall surrender its
standing and graft onto its Countenance brothers and sisters. There shall be
unity among Nephlim this day.” He gives a little chuckle. “I jest.” His triple
chin rolls with delight as he belts out a brief laugh. “There aren’t any more
of those poor souls around to graft onto anything—never could hold a candle
straight without burning themselves. Let their demise be a lesson to us all.
The Countenance must remain supreme. Should we even think of defeating them, our
annihilation is eminent.”
I gasp at his
cowardice.
“Is this true?” I
balk at Marshall. “All of Celestra is gone?”
“I’m afraid so.
What little Celestra blood remains has been pledged to the Counts,” he whispers
before motioning my attention back to the front.
“There is no way
around this,” Nicholas begins. “As uncomfortable as it is, we must discuss the
plagues.”
“What plagues?” I startle
into Marshall at idea of something deadly brewing.
“All of humanity
shall undergo a rather brutal pruning. The causalities will be staggering,
bodies in the streets with no one left to bury the dead. I’m afraid the future
isn’t so bright for the rest of the world now that you’ve selfishly reduced
yourself to an unsatisfied gleam in your father’s eye.”
“First, that’s
disgusting. And second, I get your point. Get me home. I’ve obviously got work
to do.”
“You seem far more
angry than you do relieved to be a help to anyone.”
“I am angry. Only
this time my anger is aimed right where it needs to be—at the Counts.”
***
Marshall blinks us
back to the forest behind the Landon house, and a chill grips me until I seize
in his arms.
“That was all
around awful,” I say, as Logan and Gage blink through my mind.
“That was just the
beginning. I would never dare show you the horror that world truly experiences
in reality without hope.”
“Is that what I bring?”
I look up at him as the sterile blue light of the moon washes out his perfect
features.
“Very much so.”
Marshall plants a chaste kiss on my forehead. “Merry Christmas, Skyla.”
I reach up on my
tiptoes and sear a quick kiss on the side of his cheek. “Merry Christmas,
Marshall.”
“Goodnight, love.”
My room appears
around me and I’m tucked neat in bed. I reach over and turn on the lights
before peering under the covers.
I’ve magically
donned a red and green barely-there teddy with white stockings and a bright red
bow around my left thigh.
Typical Marshall.
A glint of light
shimmers outside of my window, and I get out of bed to see the dawn of a new
day breaking over Paragon.
All is new again.
There is so much
hope in this world. And for the first time in a long while, I’m so glad to be a
part of it.
It’s all going to
work out in the end.
And if it doesn’t…
I let out a deep breath.
If it doesn't, I’ll have to figure out a way to rewrite the past.
I touch my finger
to the red velvet bow wrapped around my thigh. Despite all of his perverse
misgivings, I’m sure glad to have a certain Sector by my side.
The window fogs up
and something like that of a finger draws out an image of a heart over the
glass.
Like I said, it’s
nice to have a Sector that cares.
I touch my hand to
cool glass and that familiar buzz of delight rails through me.
“Merry Christmas,
Marshall,” I whisper. “Thank you for giving me hope when I needed it.”
***
Merry Christmas to all~!
Thank you to all who have gobbled up Someone to Love~!
And if you haven't, it's available here:
Enjoy the holiday and the week!
