The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  I give a hard glare to the sky. Sorry, Mother. There’s a new sheriff in this celestial town, one who isn’t afraid to call you out on your bullshit. Killing Gage—allowing him to die, it’s beyond bullshit, and my mother knows it. Why else would she avoid me in my hour of need? Other than the fact there’s not a motherly bone in her celestial body.

  “It’s gone.” Laken slams on the brakes abruptly and backs the Mustang up to the easement leading to an overgrown hill.

  “What’s gone?” I pant, staring out the window at a ratty looking embankment covered with weeds—not a trace of an opulent stoned paved driveway in the vicinity. “We must have taken a wrong turn.”

  “I’m sorry. Of course, you’re right.” She spins the car around, and we drive from the corner right back to this ominous stretch of vacant land. “Oh my shit,” she whispers, coming to a rolling stop as her head leans deep toward the windshield.

  “What’s going on?” My heart thumps in and out of rhythm as if in the throes of its final moments. “Where the hell did it go?” I stare up at the blank, weed-riddled hillside as if it held the answer.

  “It’s just gone.” Laken jumps out, and I do the same.

  A sports car comes barreling down the street, and Marshall, Nev, and Ezrina all file out.

  Ezrina’s face contorts a moment as she ogles the barren site, bemused. “Gone!”

  “Yes, in fact it is,” Nevermore confirms.

  “Where is it?” I demand, stalking up the lot with its enormous bald spot where the house once set its architecturally decrepit footprint. “Where the fuck did it go, Marshall?” My voice shrills to the heavens, piercing the monochrome membrane that Paragon is locked in.

  His brows rise with the expletive, but he doesn’t bother with an admonishment.

  “Tell me!” I stagger toward him in a fury. “Where is the damn house?” My eyes bug out as I examine the three of them.

  “Skyla!” Laken calls from the top of the hill, and we charge our way up to meet her. “Look at that.” Her hand swings over the expanse of what was once the backyard. A dark impression lies embedded into the soil, expanding enormously in girth and width. “If you turn around and follow the pattern, it almost looks like a—”

  “Butterfly.” I spin slowly, examining the freshly singed soil. “He’s mocking me.” The knife of grief stabs right through my heart once again. “Give Demetri your most prized possession, and this is what you get,” I admonish myself.

  “Skyla.” Marshall steps in, lifting his chin to inspect the carnage. “I wouldn’t be overly concerned about this. Demetri has simply stepped out for some air. He’ll be back. I can assure it.”

  “Stepped out?” My voice rises from my throat, incredulous. “For some freaking air? He didn’t simply make a beer run to the gas station. He didn’t just grab his wallet and walk out the door. He took the entire fucking house!”

  “Enough,” Marshall barks so loud a trio of crows darts out of an evergreen. “I’ll see to it that he’s located at once. In the meantime, I bid you one thing.” His eyes glower into mine, sparking and snapping like red licking flames. “You do not see your mother without me. Do you understand the gravity of this, Skyla?” There’s an earnestness, a curtness I’m not used to coming from his voice. Marshall has been adamant before but never like this.

  “Why?” I’m suddenly suspicious of my saintly Sector pulling rank. As much as Marshall is a down-to-the-letter alpha male, he has yet to insist I do as he says. Well, okay, there was this one time—and, oh yes, one other. Okay, maybe a third, but that’s beside the damn point. He should know by now that if he plays the you’ll-do-as-I-say-card I’ll most certainly do the opposite.

  He gives the slight hint of a nod as if I were right. “Because I said so.” His lips curve up one side. “You will do as I say, Ms. Messenger.” He tips his imaginary hat in my direction before striding down to his sports car and speeding the hell out of here.

  “I suppose we’ll need a lift,” Nevermore muses.

  Laken steps in close and whispers, “Where do you think he went?”

  “I don’t know.” My feet travel over the surface of this haunted soil, numb, afraid to move in the event the ground swallows me whole. I wish it would. “The Sectors, the Fems—maybe they’re all packing up their houses and closing up their little shops of horror. Maybe their silly little Paragon project is finally over.”

  A dull chortle rises from Ezrina. “Dear child, don’t you know? We’ve yet to leave the gate.”

  I glance to Nev for a translation. Ezrina is the queen of brevity.

  “She’s right.” Nev nods as if affirming her theory. “This little Paragon project, as you call it, hasn’t truly begun. Ezrina and I have been mapping out Nephilim history. We pulled thousands of prophecies from the Viden people. From what we can surmount, everything up until this point has been one long preface of what’s to come.”

  “Correct.” Ezrina steps forward, her eyes lift in the distance toward Devil’s Peak, toward the exact spot where Gage took his last God-given breath. “This story has yet to begin.” She turns her head to the north as if waiting for the wind to whisper a secret directly into her ear. “We truly haven’t even left the gate.”

  Laken and I shudder simultaneously.

  They’re wrong. They have to be. There has been a war, several hundred deaths—Logan’s death—a victory for Celestra, the closing of those wicked tunnels, the heavenlies rearranged with myself named as the overseer of the factions and all their crappy decisions. It sounds more like the end of a story than a beginning. But Gage is missing. Gage is dead. My heavenly mother, who has the power to change these horrible truths, is suspiciously quiet.

  The wind picks up violently around us, and we draw our collective attention to the white caps in the ocean, thrashing like the arms of a thousand dying men.

  Yes, Gage is missing. My Gage. My life is missing. I glare at the heavenly expanse. Perhaps it’s time to have more than a chat with my mother. Perhaps it’s time to cut the celestial apron strings, take the reins, and write my own damn story—rewrite it, redraft this entire nightmare until there are much more palatable circumstances. I think I will.

  “You’re right.” I sniff into the wind. “This story hasn’t even gotten off the ground yet. Come on, let’s go.” I take off for the Mustang still idling in the street.

  “Where to?” Laken catches up, breathless. “The bowling alley? The cemetery?”

  “No.” I walk around to the driver’s side. It’s about time I take the wheel in both this reality and the ethereal plane. “I was thinking more like the Burger Shack first. I could really go for a cheeseburger. Or ten. Then, once I settle this ravenous appetite of mine, I’m going to find Gage.”

  Damn straight I will.

  Come to Me

  LOGAN

  The Paragon Bowling Alley isn’t merely my anemic claim to fame. It isn’t simply an inheritance from my dead parents. It’s become the fabric of who I am, so each time I toy with the idea of selling it, I wonder if it’s me I’m really trying to get rid of.

  Lightning flickers through the windows like ghostly fingers attempting to snatch my soul right out of the room. The entire structure quakes as thunder growls its way through the cavernous, mostly deserted establishment.

  Ellis bounds through the entry and heads on over, his clothes lightly freckled with rain. The storm is just ratcheting up. It’s due to wreak havoc through the weekend. Then, just in time for Monday, it should be fogged-over sunshine and rainbows. The Weather Channel is what happens to you once you’re old and dead. It’s happened to me, although last night Skyla made me feel anything but like a corpse.

  Those erotic hours speed through my mind on a loop. Her legs roped around me, her naked chest pressed against mine. Her heated cries, her tear-stained face. The thought of our braided bodies sears me right down to the bone with a level of ecstasy I wish I never knew. I can’t believe I let it get that far, but we needed each other. We needed to push throug
h the grief together, and unfortunately, we chose the most inappropriate route. I’m not sure what possessed us. I know for a fact I’m going to see Gage again, whether it’s on Paragon or eternity, and he’ll want to deck me for it. The truth is, as much I’ve needed Skyla, craved her body, to drink her mouth down like priceless wine, I feel like shit. The idea that I’ve taken advantage of her ricochets in my mind, but a stubborn part of me refuses to own it. I refuse to own it on many levels, but, deep down, I know it must be true. I am lower than the shit on the bottom of Demetri Edinger’s shoe. I’m a greedy pig of a man for what I’ve done to Skyla—to Gage.

  “Hey.” Ellis slaps me five and pulls me into a partial hug. “I’m sorry, dude. Any word?”

  “Nope.”

  “G is pretty torn up.”

  G is his nickname for Giselle who still goes by Emerson Kragger to the free world. Giselle died as a toddler, but Skyla’s mother was kind enough to resurrect her and gift her Emerson’s body. Giselle doesn’t seem to mind. She especially doesn’t seem to mind the Kragger credit limit, sports cars, or casita that Big Daddy K has offered up to her on a very real silver platter. She has everything she could ask for out of life—and then she has Ellis.

  Ellis Harrison isn’t such a bad guy, mostly. He’s a little loose around the edges, mellow, one might say, but that’s strictly a result of his lifetime reefer addiction. Ellis grew up across the street from Gage and me. I know his ins and outs. I know he’s a Count who stands against the Barricade, even though his father is a very prominent member of the Countenance who stands with the Barricade—hell, he is the very definition of the Barricade. I know Ellis’s heart, and it’s a good one. So if my niece feels he’s the love of her life, then so be it.

  “I need to stop by and talk to Emma and Barron. I went home last night for the first time in a long while.” I nod across the street toward White Horse, the scene of the fornicating crime.

  Ellis ticks his head back a notch. “Dude, you left Skyla? What the hell? Gage would have your balls. You know he’d want you taking care of her.”

  “I know.” My hands ride up a moment as if surrendering. “I was with her at the house until late—she wanted to sleep. She told me it was okay to go. Trust me, I wouldn’t have left if she didn’t insist. Plus, she was sick—vomiting. In fact, I’m about to put a call in to her now—just wanted to give her a chance to sleep in.” Okay, so that’s mostly true—hell, it’s all true. I’m simply leaving out the fact that once she felt better, she drove over to White Horse, and we went off in my bed like a grenade. Skyla begged me not to talk about it. And I get it. The things that are done in darkness, in the thick of the night—a night coated with grief—are better off left in a murky world that never felt real in the first place. For some reason, bringing it up, repeating the effort in broad daylight would make it a reality. Last night was a fantasy wrapped in a fog for both of us, a surreal error that I won’t let happen again.

  “You should go to her.” Ellis leans against the counter, pushing in at me with his patriotic red, white, and blue stoned eyes. He’s all American that way when he’s baked, and he’s usually baked. “Dude, I got this.” He nods for me to get lost. “Liam isn’t even coming in today. Why the hell are you playing superhero? Go be with your family. Skyla is your family.”

  Skyla is my family. The words sink down to the deepest part of my soul. Who knew Ellis would hand-feed me the best truths?

  “You’re right.” Two words that have a hard time choking from my throat whenever Harrison is around.

  When I backed out of the driveway this morning, I had fully intended on heading to Barron’s. I know my brother and his wife need just as much comfort as I do. But as soon as those iron gates that divide the Paragon Estates from the rest of the world came up on me, I flipped a U-turn and landed in the parking lot of the bowling alley instead. I’m too plagued with guilt to face them. I’m afraid as soon as I step through their front door, both Barron and Emma will know what I’ve done to Skyla, what I’ve inadvertently done to Gage. I’m not sure I could ever face them without feeling weighted down with this tonnage of guilt. It’s adhered to me as the hours bleed by, melted over my flesh like a scarlet letter—S for Skyla.

  “Call her.” Ellis strums his impatient fingers over the counter. “Right now. And then get the hell out. I can handle this place with my eyes closed.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  “Will do,” I say. Not sure when Ellis started making sense, but it’s nice to know someone hasn’t lost their ever-loving shit after what happened yesterday. We need someone—anyone, to stay grounded, someone still moored to the port before we all drift away in a fog of grief and take each other down. Gage was the life vest that kept us afloat for so long, and with him gone, we’ll all drown in this misery. I love Gage more than I could ever admit or even hope to express. And what happened between Skyla and me last night sickens me—makes my stomach churn. If Gage didn’t hate me before, he should now.

  No sooner do I dig out my phone than Skyla walks through the door with Laken Stewart by her side. It’s like a breath of fresh air. Every cell in my body stands at attention whenever Skyla is around, always has. In fact, something about the way the light shines down on her reminds me of that first day she strolled right through the very same doors all those years ago with Brielle. I thought—here she is, my beautiful girl. I knew, just knew she was meant for me. Gage shared a vision with me that morning that I would meet my soul mate, and then later that afternoon, she was right there in the flesh. Once I laid eyes on Skyla, I claimed her. I did. I claimed Skyla like some grunting caveman, full of hormones and dumb lust because all of my good judgments were put on ice. That’s what Skyla does to me. She scrambles my good senses. That’s exactly how I justify what happened last night. My judgment was more than slightly derailed. Her pain was palpable. I tasted her boiling grief in every kiss.

  “Come here.” I wrap my arms around her tight. Her tiny body melts into mine just like it did a few hours ago, only this time with a few more layers of clothing between us.

  Skyla sniffs into my neck. Her chest bucks wild before pulling away.

  “We went to Demetri’s.” Her eyes fill with tears and rage simultaneously. “The house is gone.”

  “What house?” Ellis heads over. “Did they demo the old Edinger place?”

  “No—there’s just a plot of land.” Skyla explains how they drove over and found nothing but dirt where Demetri’s shit shack once stood, the burnout of a butterfly in its wake. “What do you make of it?”

  Crap. I try not to show my panic. “What did Dudley say?”

  Laken gently pulls Skyla over by the shoulders. “He said Demetri would be back. I believe him. Demetri loves Gage—he loves both of his sons.” Her eyes flit to the floor a moment. Laken has a sordid history with Wesley.

  Skyla gives a long, disgusted blink. “I’m not sure Demetri knows what love is. His version is a bit more psychotic, but he is attentive. I’ll give him that.”

  “Indeed.” Holy shit. I try to digest what this might mean. “Why don’t we head over to Barron’s, and we can try to process all this?” For sure, I’ll need to speak with Candace today. The only way I have access to the Elysian Fields is through my very unhandy dandy supervising spirit. Dudley and I will have to do a road trip whether he likes it or not.

  “That sounds like a good plan.” Laken wipes a tear from Skyla’s cheek. “You need to be around family. And you should probably tell your mother about Gage, too.”

  Skyla shakes her head. “I don’t want to worry her or anyone at the Landon house. Besides, he’s coming back to me. That’s the only reason I gave that devil my most prized possession.”

  “Yeah, well”—Laken averts her eyes a moment—“Coop has practice until four, then we’re headed to the Transfer. That devil happens to have another prized possession, and if anyone knows how to get in touch with Demetri, it’s Wes.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Skyla says the words s
o fast it sounds as if she’s panting.

  “We’ll go with you,” I correct.

  “Fine.” Laken offers Skyla a firm embrace. “Meet us at Devil’s Peak at four-thirty. I have to take off for a bit. I can walk to the ferry from here.” She points over to me as she heads toward the door. “Bring a fast car!”

  “Will do.” My truck hasn’t busted through that granite wall in a while, hasn’t needed to. The only thing I really need to bring is a fast Sector.

  A group of teenagers strides in, laughing, chatting it up as if the world still carried on like normal, and it is. I hate that the world doesn’t bat a lash at death. Gage is gone—missing at best. The world should quake at the thought of my nephew, my brother forgoing a single breath on this planet.

  Ellis holds his hands up as he strides toward the register. “I’d shake the shit out of Wes myself, but I’ll be closing this place down for you. Don’t worry about a thing, Oliver. You do what you need to do.” He hits the registers before backtracking a few steps. “Almost forgot. Barricade’s got a big meeting in a few nights. Some big shit is about to go down. They want to prep the masses.” He turns around and is swallowed up in a cloud of giggling preteen girls.

  “The Counts are prepping the masses?” Skyla’s chest rises and falls as she considers the idea. “If the Counts—the Steel Barricade—is about anything, it’s about keeping the masses in the dark.”