Soul of the Butterfly

by Scott Carruba

  Zoe gives him a cold look from beneath her brow. He smirks, having more of his own drink.

  “You really need to-”

  “No. Did you go to the debriefing with Skot and Nicole?”

  David just looks at her.

  “Did you?”

  “You know I didn’t.”

  “But she was there.”

  David says nothing, because they both know this as well. He readies to resume speaking, but she again cuts him off.

  “I don’t care how good she is. It’s one thing to use her in the field so much, but she basically is involved in command decisions now. And you know what, if she’s good enough for that, then where has she been all this time?”

  “What?” David asks, looking at Zoe with an etching of confusion on his features.

  “How many wild Hunters do you know out there? If we don’t find them, then usually the Malkuths do. Or they’re really unlucky, and the demons get them. How many wild Hunters are just out there, doing their thing, with no one bothering them, and then we just find each other when they’re in their twenties? No one survives that long.”

  “She did.”

  “Well, doesn’t that worry you … even a little bit?”

  “Why should it?”

  She looks at him, incredulous. “Because no one does that. No one.”

  “She did.”

  Zoe looks upon her cousin, lips parted as though to say more, but instead, she shakes her head.

  “Okay, Zoe, then what do you think it is? Why did she survive that long?” No answer proves forthcoming, so he carries on. “Do you think she’s in league with the Infernal?”

  “Nnn- I don’t know.”

  “Is she being manipulated by the Malkuth?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is it?”

  And again silence rises for an answer.

  “You can’t keep thinking it’s just because she’s Skot’s girlfriend. Do you think Nicole would put up with it if that were the case? They both obviously see something special about her, and maybe that’s the exact reason she survived as long as she did on her own. She didn’t need us to rescue her, and she still doesn’t. She’s helping us. We’re lucky to have her.”

  “Maybe,” comes out like a petulant child.

  “Maybe? She’s saved Skot’s life on more than one occasion!”

  “And I’ve saved yours, and you’ve saved mine. That’s what we do.”

  David takes in a breath, readying to say something in response, but an exasperated shake of the head is as far as it gets.

  “Okay, okay.” Zoe nods. “She’s talented. Very talented. She’s had years of training, even if it wasn’t specifically related to being a Hunter, but you have to admit that too many big decisions are made because of her or with her direct input. David, you’re one of the most senior people in the family, and you’re less involved in that.”

  “Hmph. I don’t want to be in charge.”

  “I knew you’d say that, and you know that doesn’t matter.”

  David takes some time to drink, eyeballing Zoe. “You’re still sore about that mission and Skot not putting you in charge.”

  Zoe gives one of her cold looks, the kind the bartender thinks do not bode well at all for the recipient. David, of course, fails to be cowed.

  “Forget who was in charge, and think about everything the Infernal did specifically to her.”

  “Zoe, we’ve been over this.”

  “So! They didn’t do it to me. They did it to her. Why?”

  “I don’t know why,” he forcefully answers. “They also left Charles’ body in a bad state specifically for Skot, or was that targeted at Lilja, too?”

  No answer arises.

  “You know they needle us. You know it. Maybe they see her as an easier target due to her lack of experience.”

  “Exactly!” Zoe almost shouts, making David wonder if he hasn’t stepped into a trap.

  He opens his mouth to again say something, but he thinks the better of it, deciding instead to stick to his drink.

  *****

  “So, you are going to meet with him?”

  Therese looks Duilio in the eyes, her fingers playing over the mug of coffee. It is in the evening, but she prefers the stimulating brew over alcohol. Her companion’s preference is firmly established, and he looks back at her over a glass of wine.

  “This is a dangerous thing, Therese.”

  She still says nothing, just looking back at him. He figures he should be thankful she even told him, even agreed to meet again. He sighs, taking a sip of his drink.

  “You are going to do this.”

  She nods, slowly, though the words proved no question.

  “You were captured twice!” he suddenly exclaims, but his show of passion gains none from her in return. “What if they have guns, or they are better trained, or they have many people?”

  A moment passes as Therese ponders this.

  “It’s just one guy.”

  “How do you know?”

  She gives a meager shrug. “He’s like me, a hacker. We’re typically loners, not the best trained or suited for offline encounters.”

  “Then let me go with you.”

  “Eehhhh-”

  “I found you again, because you are, again, getting into very dangerous situations you don’t know the full extent of. I want your help to hide from the Malkuths, to perhaps work to thwart them in some ways, but this could be them. I am most assuredly not the only tool in their box.”

  She has a sip of her coffee, her eyes still unafraid to latch onto his.

  “You keep telling me how dangerous they are, but you won’t tell me exactly why. You don’t just want my help to hide; I suspect you could do that just fine on your own. You want my help to screw with them. How dangerous will that be?”

  He exhales again, nodding. “Sì, sì, you are correct. I just …”

  “You just what? Want me to do dangerous things on your agenda but not mine?”

  “It is not like that! I want to help you, not use you. I can protect you.”

  “The best protection would be for me to not fuck with these Malkuths at all, wouldn’t it?” she challenges.

  “Oh, yes, but it is too late for that. You are on their radar now. I am still reporting to them, and I am worried they are unsatisfied with what I am telling them.”

  “Then why don’t we both hide?”

  He looks at her, then closes his eyes, emitting another sigh. “If that is what you want, then fine. I will leave you alone. I will do my best to convince the Malkuths that you are no threat, that you happened on their name by accident. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” she finally answers, then shifts in her seat, leaning closer toward Duilio. “What was Malkuth doing at the university, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. Why were you looking for him in the first place? This cannot just be about rare books.”

  Now it is her turn to express a sigh, and he blinks, surprised at the crack in the usual ‘tough’ exterior.

  “It is about the vigilante.”

  He blinks again, studying her.

  “You don’t know who the vigilante is, do you?”

  She slowly shakes her head.

  “But you want to know?”

  The motion changes to a nod, equally slow.

  “I see, I see,” he says, becoming thoughtful.

  She knows he doesn’t grasp the full picture, but she feels she’s trusted enough.

  “Thank you for being open with me, Therese. I will tell you this – there are things going on that are well beyond anything … normal. The extent of what the Malkuths do has shown to be much more than I ever suspected.”

  There blinks twice, brow pinching. “What? How is that telling me anything?”

  “I am trying to protect you and warn you.”

  “Thanks,” comes her dismissive response.

  “If you are insisting on meeting this fellow hacker, then please let me come along as p
rotection.”

  “I don’t know. He wants to meet with me alone.”

  “Of course, he does!”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “What? What is it not like?”

  “He’s paranoid, okay? Worse than me. Hell, he managed to get past some of my securities, and no one has ever done that. He’s also said things to me that remind me of myself. He’s not a threat.”

  “Hmph. Do you think he will decline the meeting he wants if you say you are bringing someone along just to feel safer?”

  She ponders this. “Maybe.”

  “Do you want this meeting so bad that you are willing to agree on his terms? Hmm?” he pushes, raising his eyebrows.

  “I … guess not.”

  Duilio nods. “He has come to you. He wants something of you. You are in the stronger position for negotiations. Doesn’t it even make sense that you’d bring someone along?”

  “I guess.”

  “Good. It is settled,” he says, reaching for his glass.

  *****

  “We continue to see.”

  What her eyes see is a sky shedding itself of color, dark, sickly tones roiling about as though the entire atmosphere swells with a seeping infection. A terrible emptiness might lie beyond, but this does not concern anyone here. There are those who know, and those who do not.

  She finally turns to look upon him.

  He is struck by her beauty, though what drives that concept here is quite different from others. He can feel the power inside her, the vitality, the promise. He feels a stirring, a needful coil. It causes him suspicion.

  “We do,” she finally speaks in response.

  A sudden punch of doubt. He wonders why he has even come to deliver her this news. How does assuredness so crumble in her wake? After some time of just looking at him, she turns back to gaze out over the bleak landscape.

  “The Immaculate Machine.”

  He moves nearer her, and he knows she does not speak of this world.

  “We are of the fallen host of the builder. We deserve our time.”

  “Time is something of which we have much, and thus are we punished to know how long we linger from that beauty. Such a waste.”

  He looks at her. Both, for a time, seem of stone.

  “They do not even know they have lost their own rebellion. They boil in the crucible, the heat a thing they welcome.”

  “Fools.”

  She cuts a sidelong gaze to him. He has already looked away.

  “We are all fools.”

  “Even you, Loviatar?” he asks, speaking smoothly on the trail of her declaration.

  “Why do you seek to flatter me, Satariel?”

  “If you truly believe that, then I have gained against you.”

  “Surely you do not think me the champion of our kind.”

  His eyes give forth one slow blink. She sees, and she knows. As much as they fight amongst themselves, as much as jealousy and envy plague them, without a focal point, they shall wallow in doom.

  “You are the nearest we have to a mother.”

  “Careful that you court weakness.”

  He does not avert his gaze from hers.

  “I understand our transcendence. We are not the things we once were.”

  She gives him one nod, then looks back out unto their world, glancing up into the sky.

  “This place befits us. It is a world so full of hunger that it eats itself.”

  “Do you see an end for us if we remain here?”

  Time passes. Wind slips through sharp places.

  “No. We have been abandoned.”

  His nod is slow, leaving his head hanging before he lifts his chin again.

  “All we shall do is open our own throats and leave behind emptied corpses.”

  “It is much sweeter there.”

  “Yes,” he agrees, drawing out the sound in a sibilant cadence. “We just need our gateway.”

  Chapter Eight

  Therese lurks back in the shadows. It is night. This is not a parking garage or a bus stop. The place is more out of the way, more in the dregs and back alleys of the City. This acts as something of a buffer zone between the clean city proper and the subterranean refuse. She doesn’t actively confront it of herself, but she does not feel out of place here at all.

  She waits, having deliberately shown up early as she is wont to do.

  She’d argued more with Duilio. Their compromise consists of her being wired up and broadcasting for sound as he observes from a distance. He expressed his dissatisfaction at even this, but she’d threatened to carry out the rendezvous without even telling him.

  Duilio watches, unwilling to use the small binoculars he’s brought for fear of drawing too much attention. She’s back in the darkness anyway. He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like the time or place. He told her to push for a meeting in some public café in the middle of the day. He doesn’t know if she tried, or if she doesn’t even want it. Here they both stand, waiting for this person who has contacted her. He’s convinced it’s nothing but trouble.

  She looks off to one side as she hears a rasping cough. It carries on for some time, but she is more surprised at how close it is. She knows she’s not alone out here, and apparently she is not the only one lingering in less-illuminated places. She finally sees as someone huddling on the ground shifts position, seeming entirely uncaring of anyone else’s presence, their own ill health evident.

  Her eyes then find the person walking up. He looks like he could be the one- tall, thin, though paunchy about the belly. He’s dressed too meagerly for the weather, as though uncaring. She notes a jitter about him, but it’s not that cold. Therese can guess many different reasons for such subtle animation. He also looks around too much. She almost rolls her eyes. If she were a cop, this guy would definitely ping her radar for being suspicious. He finally stops in an area vaguely close to the one they chose for this encounter. He glances about more, looking at his phone to presumably check the time or for messages. His impatient jiggling almost holds a rhythm.

  She moves over to him, not trying to be silent. The cadence of her heavy boots finally gets his attention, and he looks upon her with a mixture of relief and excitement.

  “Hey,” she greets.

  “It’s you. Sparrow.”

  “Yeah, and you’re Kettle,” she replies, giving his hacker moniker. He nods, though it had not been a question.

  “Oh my god. This …” He trails off, taking in a calming breath. He nods more. She just looks at him. “You know, it’s frightening, right?” She wrinkles her brow as he carries on. “It can feel like you’re all alone, like you’re the only one who knows, and everyone else is against you. It’s … it’s really lonely like that.” He shifts his eyes to her, then a wane smile finds his lips. “I’m not alone anymore.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The monsters,” he answers, a hint of incredulity touching his tone. “Out there,” he adds, flinging one arm to indicate.

  Therese nods, slowly. She feels like she is beginning to get it, and she thinks this guy is late for the proverbial bus.

  “I found you because you were running searches similar to mine. I’ve got a script that checks for that, basically to see if anyone is hunting for me that way. I mean, of course, I’ve heard of you, but I didn’t know you knew.”

  She keeps up her slow nods.

  “The demonic killings?” he leads, eyes popping.

  “Right,” she says.

  He leads with more exuberant nods. “You know about the monsters out there.”

  “I do,” she agrees.

  He emits a single, breath-filled chuckle. “I thought I was the only one.”

  She narrows her eyes. He sees this, waving a hand as he shakes his head.

  “I know others know. Of course the authorities know. They have to. Right? Of course, they do, but you know how corrupt the police are.”

  She almost grins, knowing that Duilio is listening in. She cannot
help but nod to this.

  “It’s tough,” he says. “We can find out about it, but it’s hard to know what to do.” His focus then jerks to her. “So, how do you really know? I mean, how did you find out?”

  “I saw them,” she says, which gains a start from him and more wide eyes. “I was kidnapped twice.”

  “What!”

  She reels back a bit from his exclamation, just looking at him.

  “How? How are you still alive?”

  “I was rescued.”

  And now it is his turn to narrow his eyes. Kettle studies Therese, mulling over this information. “I didn’t realize they ever caught anyone.”

  “They’re bad people. They kidnap all the time for their sex trafficking and ...” She trails off as Kettle begins waving his hands.

  “I don’t mean the people. I mean the monsters. The demons.”

  Therese blinks into a wrinkled brow. Her lips part, but she doesn’t say anything. Kettle looks back at her, also flummoxed. A tremor takes his head as though he tries to force words out.

  “Yeah,” Therese finally manages, her lips approaching a sneer. “Whatever you want to ca-”

  “Therese! Therese! Stop talking to this man!”

  She looks over to see Duilio jogging up to them. Kettle shifts his attention to Duilio, reeling back in place. His eyes return to Therese. Duilio reaches them, inserting himself between the pair, his back to Kettle.

  “Therese, you need to stop talking to him. He is clearly unbalanced. We should go.”

  “Who are you?” Kettle demands. “We’re supposed to meet alone.”

  “You’re right,” Duilio whirls on him. “She is not alone. Perhaps you should go.”

  “What the fuck!”

  Both men top, setting their eyes on Therese.

  “What’s going on?” she pushes.

  “Why is he here?” Kettle demands again.

  “I wanted protection. You think I’m just going to meet some strange guy at night in some isolated place? You’re paranoid. You understand.”

  Kettle blinks, taking a half step back. His lips curl into a frown, whether from being hurt or because he did not take more of his own precautions is unclear.