The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  “Then, along with it, allow me to offer you another gift—sort of a package deal.”

  “What’s that?” I’m only half-interested. In truth, I miss my powers. I miss the ever-living shit out of them, and I’m just a hair away from begging him to restore me to my fake Levatio standing. That’s always who I’ll see myself as—who I’ll be deep down inside. Gage Oliver the Levatio. Such humble beginnings. I wish I could have stayed that way.

  “Let me anoint you and Skyla in holy matrimony. If it’s one thing I’ve wanted all your life to give you, it’s a proper wedding. You already have the prize, Gage. Let me honor it in some small way.”

  “A wedding?” I tick my head back. “I don’t think so. Skyla and I are sort of past that phase and on to the next.”

  “Nothing fancy then—a word or two in your honor. It’ll be in the Transfer. Just a few minutes of your time.”

  “And when will I get my good vibrations? Skyla needs them now.” I scowl over to where Dudley stands with Skyla and Logan.

  Demetri claps his hand over my shoulder. “As soon as Skyla agrees to the anointing ceremony, we’ll make arrangements. And once the ceremony is complete, the gift is yours through spontaneous commission. The sooner the better, don’t you say?”

  “I do.” I nod as he takes off into the woods and explodes in a plume of boiling black fog.

  I glance to where Dudley holds Skyla’s hand.

  It’s time to convince her of a little vow exchange in the Transfer.

  What could it hurt?

  Demetri is right. I already have the prize.

  Kill Club

  LOGAN

  Dinner at Barron and Emma’s is usually something I look forward to, but, tonight, in the midst of Skyla’s desperate need to cling to Marshall and moan, it’s a bit less appetizing all the way around.

  “Have you thought of names?” Emma waves a fork full of food at Skyla as if taunting her, and Skyla’s poor face turns green as the lettuce wilting on her plate. She hasn’t touched a bite of her meal.

  “We haven’t really,” Gage answers for her.

  Emma’s pet, Kresley, is here, mopping up Gage’s side of the table where he sloshed his water, offering him bread and butter as if she were his personal bed nurse. From an outsider’s perspective, you wouldn’t think Gage and Skyla were a couple at all. You would assume it were Gage and Kresley.

  “I think you should consider Barron if it’s a boy.” Emma gives a sly wink to my brother. “Of course, unless you were thinking of Gage Junior. I’m all for that as well.”

  Liam holds a finger up while he swallows. “Liam is a fantastic name, but works well as a middle name, too.”

  Skyla tilts her head to the side, the color returning to her face just enough. “I sort of thought I might be having a girl. I don’t really know boys.” Her face deepens a dark shade of cherry. “I mean, I didn’t grow up with a brother. Not that I would be intimately familiar with his body—um”—she looks to me for help. “Anyway, I think it would be fun to dress a girl.” She closes her eyes in defeat.

  “Boy’s names for girls is all the rage.” Kresley nods into Skyla as if they were old friends. “I’m actually named after my father’s middle name. I didn’t quite appreciate it, though, until I met Wes,” she sighs, gazing dreamily into some unknown horizon. “Wesley and Kresley. It has such a nice ring to it.”

  “You should go find him and tell him.” Skyla doesn’t miss a beat. “Maybe you can cut his steak and wipe his face down with a napkin like you practiced on my husband tonight.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Emma tosses down her utensil. “Can’t you girls ever get along?”

  “Only when she stops lusting after my man.” Skyla picks up her knife and fingers the blade.

  “Well”—Gage pushes his plate back—“I have a meeting to get to for the Videns. I’m planning on talking to the local chapter, getting to know a few of them a little better. I want to know how they really feel about the Barricade, about us.”

  “I’d like an update on the dolomites.” Skyla taps her hand over Marshall’s as she says it and shudders as if soaking in the hit. I get that he makes her feel better, and Skyla is the last person I want to feel bad, but the sight has taken my appetite and shot it down like a clay pigeon.

  Gage glances at his phone. “Wes is outside. I’d better get going.”

  He and Skyla hug it out while Kresley runs and snatches her purse. “Thank you for dinner!” She offers Emma a quick embrace at the door.

  Skyla gawks at the sight. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I figure Wes can give me a ride.” She narrows her eyes at Skyla. “And I can wipe his chin, feed him my lips like you suggested.”

  “At least you have your sights on the right Edinger this time,” Skyla whispers it low as not to offend Barron in the next room.

  “You know, Skyla”—Kresley takes a step in, and I do the same in the event a catfight breaks out—“if you weren’t with Gage, or whoever the hell it is you’d die to be without”—her hand pans both Marshall and me—“you’d understand the pain, the anguish I feel with Wes. Just know that you’re lucky to have the man you want most in your arms, in your bed. Some people don’t truly appreciate what they have until it’s taken away from them forever. I know I didn’t.” She waves her off before stepping outside and joining Emma and Gage.

  “Ignore her.” I pull Skyla in by the shoulders for a moment.

  “No, I get what she’s saying.” Her lips press white. “But she’s wrong. I do know what it’s like to love someone and lose them.” She pulls me in briefly. “I’m glad you’re still in my life, Logan.”

  We step outside and wave goodbye to Gage as he and Kresley take off in Wesley’s SUV.

  “What should we do with the rest of the night?” I ask as the fog dances between our bodies, mocking us like a restless spirit. It’s saying here she is, you can’t have her. You didn’t plant that baby, those babies inside her beautiful body. My eyes keep straying to her rounded belly. Out of nowhere, Skyla wears her tribute to her love for Gage like a badge whether she’s ready or not.

  “Get Ellis,” she whispers. “We’re going to Marshall’s.” We met up with both Brody and Ellis a few nights ago just to feel them out. I think tonight we cement our new standing with them.

  Dudley finishes saying good night as he tips his invisible hat at the two of us.

  “We’ll be there in just a few minutes!” Skyla waves after him.

  “You can’t keep your hands off me, can you, Ms. Messenger?” He’s more than happy to tease. Asshole.

  “Don’t you know it! I expect a full body massage before I go home!”

  “Skyla.” I give a disapproving grunt.

  “I can’t help it. I’m just about dead with all this morning sickness. It’s beyond terrible, Logan. In fact, I’ve thought of hiring out his services. We’ll make millions if Brielle doesn’t get to it first.”

  Emma and Barron poke their heads out the door. “We’re off to bed, Logan!” Emma shouts.

  “Good night!” Skyla and I chime in unison as she slams the door shut.

  “See that? As soon as Gage leaves, I’m invisible. That woman hates me. I’m just an incubator for her grandchildren at this point. A machine she can feed her sheep guts to, and I pop children out in return. A haggis eating Pez dispenser.” She wrinkles her nose at the idea. “Let’s get to Marshall’s. I’m ready to hack the Steel Barricade to pieces. Did you see all that bullshit on TV regarding the so-called otherworldly visitors? Drake and Ethan are talking about selling anti-terrestrial repellent. Soon, the entire world will be outfitted with little tinfoil hats no thanks to Wes and his impotent bid for earthly dominion.”

  “Earthly dominion.” I think on this a sec. “You may be onto something.” I nod across the street to the Harrison’s house. “Let’s walk to Dudley’s. It’s a nice night.”

  “Okay, but I might need to take a puking break or two.”

  “I’l
l carry you if I have to.”

  She leans her head over my shoulder as we cross the street. “I feel like you’re always carrying me.”

  It warms me to hear that. “Thank you.” I sneak a kiss to the top of her head as we reach the Harrison’s oversized, overly ornate front doors.

  Skyla rings the bell, and it tolls for a solid five minutes, loud enough for everyone on the planet to hear.

  The door on the left swings open, revealing a glazed over Ellis and a disgruntled looking Giselle.

  “I thought you were home with a stomachache?” Skyla pulls her in.

  “I lied.” She gives a dry smile, acting more like her predecessor, Emerson Kragger, by the minute.

  “Why would you do that? We just had a nice family dinner.” Now it’s Skyla fabricating a story. “Liam was there without any of his annoying girlfriends.”

  “Liam’s annoying girlfriends weren’t the reason I wasn’t there. It’s that old witch.” She scowls at the house.

  “Giselle. That’s your mother!” Skyla seems incensed by this, but I happen to know Skyla has felt close to the same on occasion.

  “I don’t care. She’s not the boss of me.”

  It takes a lot to hold back a laugh. “I hate to break it to you, but she sort of is. Look, we’re headed to Dudley’s, and we need to borrow Ellis for a few minutes. You need a ride home?”

  “No, I have my car.” She nods to the glossy black Range Rover in the driveway. “Daddy’s having fluffy pink seats put in for me next week. I can hardly wait.”

  I’m not quite sure how to respond to this. For one, by Daddy, she means Arson Kragger, and two, fluffy pink seats.

  Ellis and Giselle share an uncomfortably long smooch good night that looks as if Ellis is snaking out her insides. We wait until Giselle drives off before heading over to Dudley’s.

  “Just the three of us.” Ellis gets between Skyla and me, slinging his arms over our shoulders. “The three musketeers are back together again.”

  Skyla hitches her breath. “We’ve never been the three musketeers, Ellis.”

  “Yeah, but I like the sound of it.”

  “Me, too.” She pulls him in.

  We push through the fog, bathing in the cool mist as we make our way down the middle of the street. There’s something pure about this moment, something reminiscent of softer days.

  “Here’s to a prosperous future,” Ellis declares for no real reason.

  “What do you think the future holds for you?” Skyla tucks her head toward his.

  “I’ve got some serious ideas, dude. Designer LSD—we’re talking llama lickers, peanut butter poppers, and tragic magic,” he pants the words out, serious as can be. “Those obnoxious feds sniffing around? All we have to do is slip them roofie coladas, dismember them, and I’ll use their remains to fertilize my reefer farm.”

  Skyla and I still a moment as we stand in silent judgment of our once favorite stoner.

  “What?” he pipes up, irritated. “They’re organic.”

  We hit Dudley’s, and Marshall is already at the table along with Brody Bishop.

  “The dream team unites. The Retribution League,” Skyla muses while studying the brooding Bishop. “Are you up for playing nice?”

  Brody’s chest bucks with the idea of a laugh. “I didn’t join this endeavor to play nice. I’m here to help you shut this shit down. And, in the event you’ve forgotten, I’m taking it up the ass for you.” He nods to her stomach as if whatever he’s sacrificing is in honor of the fact she’s with child. “I’m giving the Counts their monthly blood draw in your place.”

  “Brody.” Skyla closes her eyes for a moment. “Thank you. I had hoped there were other reasons they weren’t claiming my neck. I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

  “I don’t need repayment. I believe in doing what’s right.” He offers a short-lived smile. “Now, what’s the game plan? I’m ready to get dirty.”

  The blood draw—another reason for me to hate the Counts. The tunnels might be closed, but they weren’t about to give up control entirely. There are reserves to be met. I much rather they’re met by a Bishop than by an Oliver—Skyla Oliver.

  “Good.” Skyla nods to Dudley. “You have the list?”

  “Yes, my love.” Dudley sits straight, shoulders back, chest puffed with pride at the fact Skyla has confided in him. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was resentful. He passes out a sheet of paper to each of us, and suddenly, it feels like I’m in fourth period all over again. Damn, who knew I could miss West so much?

  “What’s this?” I scan over it, and then it hits me. “These are the guys, huh?” Shit. Names for miles of the lunatics that are willing to out the Nephilim in order to save their necks.

  Brody shakes his head while pouring over it. “The sad thing is, these people actually believe that the Barricade is capable of protecting their families.”

  “Can’t they?” Skyla cocks her head to the side. “I’m sure Wes provided some sort of demonic covenant.”

  “And I’m sure he didn’t,” Dudley is quick to add. “There is no protective hedge strong enough to shield thousands of people from a large and powerful entity such as the U.S. government, or any government for that matter. What Wesley has done is offered a compact. Nothing more dynamic than that.”

  “He lied to them,” Skyla says it breathless as if the wind were just knocked out of her.

  “Not necessarily.” Marshall claps his hand over hers, inspiring Skyla to take in a quivering lungful of air. “It’s simply a matter of semantics—and the fact they were gullible enough to believe him.”

  Ellis folds his hands together. “So, what’s going to happen?”

  “I get it. I know what’s going to happen.” I close my eyes because I sincerely hope I don’t get it—that I don’t know what’s about to unfold. My mind just so happened to flit to the worst-case scenario. “Wes is giving our own people the rope they need to hang themselves. We get enough defectors out there, and they won’t have to do any of the dirty work themselves. The Barricade keeps its nose clean. We die a slow suicide.”

  “Wow,” Skyla muses, obviously pissed. “Wes really is an evil mastermind.”

  “So, what now?” Brody folds his paper into the shape of an airplane. I can see Chloe there in his face, and it’s unnerving if I look at him too long.

  Skyla runs her finger down the page as if she were silently numbering them. “Now we figure out where we’re going to store the bastards after we capture them.”

  “Capture?” Marshall isn’t the least amused. “Detainment for the greater good of one or more factions is a non-punishable offense. Capturing and taking prisoners during a time of peace among factions is something the Justice Alliance loves to reward by turning the perpetrators into overgrown fowl and haggard factory workers for the enemy. There is a razor thin line between the two, Ms. Messenger. I suggest you tread lightly.”

  “Ezrina and Nev—so the punishment is old school.” I nod. “It looks like we’re about to detain a hell of a lot of people for the greater good of the Nephilim.”

  Brody nods. “And, once people realize it’s not a means to an end like they thought, they’ll think twice before performing circus tricks for humans. I like what we’re doing here.” He looks from Skyla to me. “I’m asking Brooke to marry me. I want kids—a big family. I don’t want to think about my children being taken away and shoved in a cell while some freak in a lab conducts experiments on them. This is a good thing, Skyla.” He stands to go. “My lips are sealed. Let me know when you need me to start hunting the bastards down.”

  “We need it now.” Skyla looks to Dudley. “We’ll keep them here.”

  Dudley’s lips twitch as if he’s amused. His eyes hood low as if he’s taking a moment to seduce her. “I’m afraid I’m denying your request.”

  “It wasn’t a request,” Skyla huffs. “It’s an order.”

  “I’m denying that as well.”

  “No, Marshall. We need to stick these assh
oles somewhere, anywhere. And this is the only place large enough that won’t evoke suspicion.”

  “Language,” he says it stern as hell and stills Skyla in her seat.

  “This is my house,” she snipes, pulling the spirit wife card. I like her moxie.

  “My house for now,” he growls back, and it looks as if we’re witness to a lovers’ quarrel, if the lovers were two powerful celestial beings who could turn this place into matchsticks in less than thirty seconds.

  “How about the Haunted Speculum?” I offer. “It’s a shit storm of destitution in there. A vast desert of nothingness. A haunt for jackals. A perfect holding cell for the traitors.”

  Dudley presses his thumb to his lips as he stares off in that direction.

  “It’ll have to be temporary,” he decides. “There’s no way to corral them once they’re inside. Of course, there’s no escape either. The true definition of detainment dictates a confined space—not an entire realm where they are welcome to roam freely. According to rules and regulations, a temporary residence may be in use for up to sixty days until proper confinement is provided.”

  “That means we start now.” Skyla glances back at the list. “We’ll each take ten.”

  “Heavens no. I can’t partake in the fun.” Marshall pushes out a silent laugh. “I’m simply here as The Pretty One’s supervising spirit. I’ve no jurisdiction to participate in the detainment process. I’m a Sector. These are not my people.”

  I nod to Brody. “You take the first fifteen men on the list. Ellis, you take the next fifteen. I’ll pick up the rest.”

  Skyla clasps her hand over my wrist as if to stop me. “We will pick up the rest.”

  “Sounds good.” Brody taps Dudley over the shoulder with his paper jet. “I’ll text you as soon as I catch one.”

  “Very well.” Dudley stands and heads for the exit himself. “The speculum does love to entertain. This should be interesting. I have an appointment. I’ll keep my phone on hand.”

  “Marshall, where do you keep going off to?” Skyla jumps up in frustration, but he’s already halfway to the haunted mirror in question.