The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  Chloe leans in, her belly rubbing up against my arm. “That could have been us.”

  I don’t even bother qualifying that with a statement. Chloe lives in her delusions as much as Wesley lives in his. Maybe Chloe needs to witness the wedding between Skyla and me when we renew our vows in front of Demetri.

  Once the ceremony is through, Laken and Coop run down the aisle with pure unadulterated joy as bodies begin to mingle. The atmosphere immediately shifts to party mode. Skyla is busy speaking to Ellis and Giselle, so I take a moment to take care of business.

  “You got a second?” I nod to Wes, and we step aside from the crowd. “I know that was tough for you, man. I’m sorry.”

  Wesley glances to the ground, doesn’t say a word, and it breaks my heart. Wes is the exact effigy of myself, especially when he’s locked in grief. It’s painful to watch. Even more painful to know that one day that will be me. And I suppose in a way, it’s Logan now.

  “I love her,” he says it low, about as audible as the wind. “That will never change.”

  “You’re allowed to do that. No one can take that away from you.”

  “Someone just did.” He takes off before I can stop him, and I catch up with him, blocking his path a moment.

  “Are we on for tonight? There’s a new moon.” The Counts still hold their sacrificial round table. Now that it’s on a voluntary basis, the numbers have dwindled considerably.

  He stares off into the cold black water as the waves lap over the shore. “I’m thinking about taking the night off. The Videns have questions. Come with answers. I’ll be back later.” He drifts away with the sea mist and eventually disappears into the woods that border the shoreline. Wes is in a tough place emotionally, and I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

  “Hey, you!” Giselle hops over with Ellis, Skyla, and Logan in tow. She rings my neck with the crook of her arm as laughter bubbles from her. That’s one thing about my sister—no one will ever accuse her of being a killjoy. “Wasn’t that wedding fabulous? Did you see her up there in that big white dress? I want a big white dress! As soon as Ellis and I can, we’re going to get married. He’s going to look handsome, and I’m going to sparkle.”

  “What?” I take a moment to glare at Harrison.

  “Dude.” He shakes his head as if half-heartily denying it. “We’re talking years.”

  “But last night you said we could do a secret wedding like Gage and Skyla,” Giselle whines. “Of course, we’ll invite our families. It’s not that secret, right, Ellie?”

  “Ellie?” I growl out the moniker.

  “That’s right, G.” He comes over and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “I can’t blame you for being excited. You get all this to come home to.” He waves a hand over his body.

  “Please.” I give Ellis a hard look. “She needs to stay in school, go to college, grad school, and then we’ll talk.” Maybe.

  Giselle sucks in an audible breath, her face contorting in all kinds of shock. “You and Skyla didn’t wait! In fact, Skyla had two husbands in one year!” she shouts loud enough to incite a small crowd to turn in our direction. “Skyla gets to have three babies all at once, too! When are you going to put three babies in my belly, Gage? Why are you letting her have all the fun? Sometimes, I think you love Skyla more than me!”

  “Would you keep it down?” I pull her away from the crowd to a nearby evergreen as the rest of our small circle follows. “Do you even know where babies come from?”

  She shifts uncomfortably, looking to Skyla for help. “Ellis says he’ll put them in me with his magic wand.”

  “Shit.” I look to Logan and shake my head at the lunacy we’ve let Harrison inflict on poor, innocent Giselle.

  “Just kidding!” She laughs and hops, and it really doesn’t do anything to solidify the fact she desperately wants to be an adult. “Ellie says he’s going to put babies in my belly real soon. All he has to do is plow my field with his seed. Then I have to scream and scream and scream. And the more fun I have while he’s seeding me, the better my chances of having more than one watermelon baby like Skyla.” She turns to my wife. “Ellie says you screamed so loud that they had to put carpet on your bedroom walls to protect the ears of the rest of your family.”

  “Ellis!” Skyla whacks him in the arm before stepping toward my sister. “It might be a Tad Landon true. And what exactly is a watermelon baby?”

  “Come on, Skyla.” She rolls her eyes like a preteen. “Babies are born in watermelon pods. What do you think they eat for nine months straight? It’s the most delicious food in the whole world, so I think they’re really lucky.”

  I look to Harrison. “I’m going to kill you.”

  “No, no!” Skyla holds a hand out while herding Giselle back toward the party. “We’re going to congratulate the bride and groom, and take a good look at that sparkly dress up close. You two feel free to have your way with Ellie.” She smirks at him as they dissolve into the crowd.

  “All right”—Harrison takes a full step back and holds up his hands—“just give me a running start.” He turns around and books it the hell out of here.

  “You think he went to the bowling alley?” I ask as he jets out of sight.

  “If he’s smart, he went to the mainland.” Logan slaps his hand over my shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just pissed at Ellis. What’s new, right? I have a feeling I’m going to spend the next fifty years pissed at Ellis.”

  Logan belts out a laugh, and for a second, I catch myself in the absurdity of what I said. I get it, though. Logan is laughing because of the fact I see myself hating on Ellis for the next half a century, but the truth is, the real reason it’s hilarious is because I won’t be around long enough to do it.

  “Whoa.” He gives my arm a firm shake. “Come out of that black hole. You’ll be here.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know because you traded the carcass of a certain Celestra for a wish at your last birthday. Isn’t that how it worked? My dead body for length of years?”

  I blink into him, more than slightly sucker-punched. Here, Logan remembered my wish, and I didn’t. Of course, I may have mentioned it the night I tried to beg Candace to take me home. I had become a monster and didn’t want to inflict any more of my ego on Skyla or the world.

  Demetri stalks by in the distance like a shadow, edging his way toward the exit.

  “Excuse me, dude. I’ve gotta dance with the devil before the night is through.”

  I sprint through the sand, up toward the house, and catch up with the demon.

  “Hey, Daddy Dearest.” I offer up a half-smile because I’m not too sure he gets the pop culture reference.

  He turns, that dark line on his face curves up with the impression of a grin. “Do you wish for me to beat you with wire hangers?”

  “Okay, you’re a smart guy.” I cross my arms over my chest in an effort to keep from decking him. “So, what’s this blood covenant you had Wes partake in? What is the real story between my brother and me? You know we’ll never be a unified front. Why have him expose his deep, dark secrets to me at the detriment to his cause?”

  Demetri lifts his dark eyes and scans the crowd until he nods to my left, and I follow his gaze.

  “Skyla.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Skyla would have the power to calm me if I were tied to a stake with flames licking at my feet. “She’s the reason for the blood covenant?” Makes sense in a demented Demetri sort of way.

  “She’s the reason. You’ll thank me for it.” He turns and heads into the woods and evaporates to nothing.

  Skyla is the reason for the blood covenant.

  Demetri is looking out for us, or at least our children. But knowing all of Wesley’s best-laid plans only seems to benefit the Nephilim in the end—Skyla’s people. Could this be his way of apologizing for killing her father?

  Demetri is gifting Skyla the keys to the kingdom through me. A kingdom in exchange for a dominion. I suppose
that’s fair in Demetri’s eyes.

  But something still does not add up.

  Dead Man’s Party

  LOGAN

  “Come on”—I nod toward the crowd moving in rhythm to the music—“just one dance. It’s not even a slow song.” I’ve spent the last five minutes trying to herd Skyla toward the dance floor, but she keeps biting her lower lip apprehensively, eyeing the thick gyrating crowd as if it were a snake. Come to think of it, she was having hallucinations just a few nights ago. “Are you okay? Are you feeling strange again?”

  “No.” She gives an annoyed blink toward the two government agents who continue to skirt the periphery. For the most part, we’ve decided to ignore them. Coop said he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. “It was sort of a one-off. I’m just”—she rounds her hand over her growing belly—“I’m too big to dance. I’ll look like a hippo having a seizure. I don’t know where I end and the rest of the world begins.”

  Skyla is already pretty huge, but by no means is she a hippo. I love the fact that I’m here to witness the event firsthand, even if I am relegated to the sidelines. My insides pinch with heat as my gaze falls over her quickly changing body. Candace foretold that Skyla and I would one day have our own child, and right now, the thought makes my stomach turn because any day that zaps Gage out of reality is not a good day. Besides, those babies need him. Gage is going to make a great father—and great fathers should be the ones who live to a ripe old age.

  “Do you know where you end and I begin?” I ask with my voice lowered, a smile playing on my lips, but I won’t give it.

  She cinches her mouth at the thought. “I give. Where? Keep it PG, Oliver.”

  “I don’t know either, but I’m guessing we run a figure eight right in here.” I tap my hand over my heart. “Is that PG enough for you?”

  “Maybe.” Her cheeks flush with color.

  “And don’t worry. It’s appropriate. Dead husbands are allowed to venerate their wives for all eternity.” A rush of sadness rips through me because I’ve happened to play the role of dead husband for quite some time now.

  Skyla reaches up and brushes my cheek with her thumb as if wiping away tears. “I’m sorry it hurts, Logan. It hurts me, too.”

  The music switches gears and couples migrate into one another’s arms.

  I motion her close with the flick of my fingers. “Keep it PG, Oliver.” I’m only partially teasing.

  Her brows arch at the mention of her formal, very legal name, twice over.

  Skyla extends her hands, and I take up her warm, soft fingers. It’s only then I note the fact this is as close as her burgeoning stomach will allow.

  “My how you’ve grown.” I give a wry smile, and she gives one right back.

  “Save it for your nieces or nephews as you watch them age. I hear childhood goes by in the blink of an eye.”

  We sway sullenly to the music, even though I happen to be enjoying the hell out of her, and I’m hoping she feels the same.

  “Childhood may be fleeting, but rumor has it that it still takes eighteen years to pass the time.” I give a quick wink. Her belly rubs up against my body, and something in me stirs to touch it. “May I?” My eyes fall to her beautiful bulge. Skyla is a stunning mother-to-be. Not even her enemies can deny her that.

  Her hand rubs over the top. “By all means.” She pulls me over, and I gently lay my open palm onto her surprisingly firm stomach.

  “Wow.” I’m breathless. And like some big dope, all I can say about the miracle taking place in Skyla’s body, the miracle she and Gage put in there, is wow, over and over again.

  “It is pretty wow.” Her entire body beams with pride as she places her hand over mine.

  How are we doing with the list? Her demeanor changes on a dime. How many of them are captive? Skyla is determined to shut down Wesley’s dream team before it ever takes flight.

  Twenty-two. Brody is a machine. He captured eleven. Ellis five.

  And the other six? Her eyes widen as if she’s offended before I can get the answer out.

  Skyla, it was me. I give a little shrug in my own defense. You do realize I’m in this with you. I want to nail those bastards to a wall as much as you do.

  If you’re in this with me, then you’ll take me the next time you decide to nail a bastard to the wall. She tilts her head in, her expression conveying her sarcasm far better than her voice ever could.

  “Are you insane?” I don’t bother filtering that one through telepathy. “I had to fight the last guy with my fists. He threw a chair at me, and not the kind that is conveniently made of balsa wood, but a genuine, heavy-as-all-shit clump of office metal.” I touch my shoulder where the bastard nailed me. “I’ve got the battle wound to prove it.”

  “Logan.” She gives my name in a severe whisper. “As the overseer of the factions, I forbid you to go without me.”

  “And as your Elysian, I refuse to listen. Your unborn children will thank me one day once they arrive without a dent in their skulls. These men are not going willingly into the haunted good night—otherwise known as the Speculum. Speaking of which—the clock is ticking— we need to find a replacement.”

  “You’re right.” She glares at me a moment. I hope to God it’s hormones driving her to incite this kind of rage toward me.

  “Skyla.” I want to weep as I say her name. “You know I love you with all my heart, all my soul, every last fiber of my deceased and spiritual being. You are the love of my life, and I would do anything to protect you.” Already have. Still doing it.

  “I know you care.”

  “No.” I’m emphatic this time. “My love for you is so strong, it dulls out the rest of the world in a blur. When you’re not with me, all I do is count down the hours till Skyla. This love for you I feel is God-breathed—something spectacular and haunting. I love you, Skyla Oliver.” What joy is left in me slips away as I remember which Oliver she’s bound to at the moment. “I still love you, princess.”

  Skyla’s stomach jumps beneath my hand as a foot bursts forth with a kick as if trying to evict me from the premises.

  Both Skyla and I give an open-mouthed laugh of delight.

  An explosion goes off overhead as the fireworks get underway.

  “The babies—I think one of them just moved!” she squeals as spontaneous tears trickle down her cheeks. “Logan, they’re both moving.”

  My fingers fan out, as I spread them wide and plant my other hand over her basketball of a stomach.

  An aggressive assault takes place as if I were the last person on the planet they want touching their mother. Probably true.

  Gage steps up, breathless. “Here you are.” He glances down at the placement of my limbs, and for a second, I’m afraid he’s going to remove them at the root. “What’s going on?”

  “They’re kicking!” Skyla turns slightly toward him, and I lift my hands so Gage can experience it for himself.

  “Already?” Gage is breathless at the idea of his children moving, kicking up a storm inside Skyla. Up until now, they had two-dimensional proof, the awkward flimsy papered picture that showed three round sacks with the grainy exposure that photographic technology has passed up by a mile.

  “They’re not moving anymore,” he says, dejected.

  “Maybe they’re tired.” Skyla softens into him, believing this theory herself.

  Tired? Those kids were wide awake a second ago. In fact, if I had to guess, it felt as if I were about to be ousted.

  Wait a minute…

  I lay my hand over the side of her stomach, and a violent jolt comes my way.

  “Oh shit!” Gage is speechless, something just this side of a miracle. “Logan, do that again.” He taps the top of her belly, and I lay my hand down just as I was told.

  Again, the baby, babies, give an aggressive thrust maneuver.

  “Holy hell.” I close my eyes just briefly. “I think they’re trying to evict me.” I’ve heard of people trying to poison our youth, and here I see that Deme
tri has wasted very little time. I’ll be their least favorite person by default.

  Gage puts his hand over mine and feels the thumping, the bumping, the very real get-the-heck-off-my-mother moves his kids are dispensing. Carefully, I move my hand, and Gage slips his beneath it. His grin widens the size of a football field.

  “They’re moving.” His breathing picks up as he and Skyla lock eyes, and it feels special, romantic, and in no way like I should ever bear witness to it.

  The fireworks go off in one last blaze of glory, the grand finale as Gage leans in for the kiss. Hell, I would have done the same. I can’t help but feel emotional. Skyla and Gage just felt their children move for the very first time, and it all went down in a fit of fiery glory. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was a sign, a prophecy for the spectacular life those two kids are going to live. They’re very lucky to have such amazing parents. I walk backward a few paces as the crowd disperses. The music starts up again, and the party only seems to grow, not wither.

  “Where you going?” Coop slaps his hand around my shoulder.

  “Skyla!” Laken calls to her friend as she and Gage head over. “Thank you for all of your help. Your advice.” She gives a knowing nod. “You really were a great friend today. And thank you for putting up with the Jens.” She looks to me. “My sisters, both named Jen, but that’s mostly the Counts’ fault.”

  “It’s quite a story, but one I’m glad I know.” Skyla pulls her in. “You’ve been through so much.” They hold tight for a moment. “I had a wonderful time. Everything was beautiful. I think you’re both off to a great start.”

  A cool pair of arms swings around my waist as Lexy Bakova pops up from behind my shoulder. Her breath reeks of booze and cigarettes, a combo I don’t care for either à la carte or together.

  “Boo!” She breaks out into a fit of giggles. Michelle Miller is with her, looking a little ruffled—probably from something my goofy brother did to tick her off. “So”—she looks to Coop and Laken—“you two ready for some R and R in paradise?” I carefully slip her arms right back off me.