The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  Speaking of Logan, Marshall takes a turn, and we catch a glimpse of the bowling alley sitting lonely on the left side of the street with the O in the neon sign blown out. I’ll have to tell Logan about that, although I’m sure he’s already aware. He’s been working very hard to resurrect that dying corpse for as long as I can remember.

  “This is a two-part journey, Ms. Messenger.” Marshall pulls in across from the bowling alley into White Horse, the house that Logan built for me. Logan’s truck is parked in the driveway, and just the sight of it makes me pinch with grief.

  I’ll tell Logan next. He’ll be hurt that Marshall was the first to know. I’m sure Logan will be filled with just as much pain as I am at the thought of Gage never seeing his child.

  Those faraway thoughts creep into my brain—the ones that have tried to surface ever since Gage died. Logan and I together was a prophecy my mother gave me, but I didn’t really need a prophet to expend that notion to me. Logan and I were in love before I ever fell hard for Gage. These thoughts all seem so cruel in nature, so barbaric toward the genuine love, lust, affection, toward everything I felt and still very much feel for Gage. I’ve always stood by the maxim that I would rather be married to Gage forever than have him leave Logan and me alone on this planet. Logan and I had three blissful days. Our mouths, our limbs, exploring, tearing one another to pieces, then lovingly putting ourselves back together as one. We are still very connected. He still feels like my husband, and, I know it sounds dubious, but Gage does, too. It’s a twisted world to live in when you accidentally give your heart to two people. I glance to Marshall. Three. But it’s Gage I’m married to, and, God willing, will be for a very long time. The one thing death fails to do, at least in the beginning, is to take away the feeling that the other person might still walk through that door, still warm your bed at night. I wasn’t able to disconnect from the notion with Logan, and, now, I can’t seem to do it with Gage. That’s death’s cruelest trick of all. It leaves you with the illusion that the one you lost is still very much a part of you when all you’re really left with are the memories.

  “Two-part adventure?” I hop out, and Marshall comes around and takes up my hand. He leads us to a quiet thicket of pines that butt right up to the shoreline. The thing I love best about White Horse is that it sits on a pale sandy beach. It’s funny how Gage and I love Rockaway—that’s our special place with its onyx shores, and, here, Logan has chosen the white sands of Silent Cove. Gage drives a black truck, Logan a white one. Gage is a Fem, Logan—Celestra, mostly.

  “Anyway”—I startle back to life and twist into Marshall and all his physical brilliance—“you are sweet to me and perhaps too gorgeous for me to ever be safely around. You do know that my hormones are already on overdrive. Please do me a favor and promise you won’t take advantage of me like that.” My lips quiver. “I’m weak, Marshall, and my body will want things that Gage isn’t here to offer. If I can give him one more gift, it’s to be chaste while his child is inside me.”

  He gives a long blink. “You’ve foiled my plan so soon,” he says it dry, teasing. “I suppose The Pretty One will be the next to hear those heartfelt words stream from your ruby lips.” Marshall rubs his finger along the seam of my mouth, and those erotic dreams I’ve had of him, over the months I’ve been married to Gage, come back in one encapsulated sound bite.

  A sharp, pulsating stream of ecstasy rips through that sweet spot between my thighs, and I lean into Marshall’s chest to steady myself a moment.

  “Wow, you are really not good at taking direction,” I pant through the powerful pleasure he’s just elicited in me.

  “It’s your own physiological response to me, but do let your imbalanced hormones know that I’m flattered. Nevertheless, I’ve not brought you here to make your body hum with delight.” He pulls my chin up with his finger and steadies his dark crimson irises over mine. Marshall’s eyes pop with intensity against the dismal sky. “I’ve brought you here to—”

  “Skyla!” a husky, comfortably familiar voice calls from our left, and we turn to find Logan jogging his way over. In an instant, he snatches me from Marshall’s arms and embraces me hard with his own. “I’ve been trying to reach you. It worries me when you don’t pick up. I was just about to head to the Landon house.” His warm breath pulsates over my lips. Logan, with his dark blonde hair, those liquid amber eyes that have never been able to hide his unending ache for me. He’s so stunningly handsome I want to cry. “You up for dinner?” He sheds a brief smile. “I think Emma is ready to bury the hatchet.”

  “In my skull?” I quip without meaning to. But the truth is, I can’t face Emma and Barron now, not knowing what I do.

  “What do you know?” Logan’s brows dip into a sharp V, and my stomach pinches. He can hear me. Of course, he can—his hand is touching my bare arm, so I pull away. For whatever reason, I’m always forgetting that Logan has access to my brain.

  Marshall pulls me back a moment. “Never mind what she knows. What’s important at this hour is what I know.” Don’t tell him about the child just yet. He nods to me. “I’m taking you both somewhere. Come, we must leave now.”

  “Are you okay?” Logan whispers as Marshall treads ahead.

  “I’m fine.” I shake my head as if refuting my own theory. “Really I am.”

  Marshall heads to his car, and Logan and I follow. He drives us to the Paragon Estates, and we watch as we pass the Olivers’ home and Ellis’s house with his big monster truck out front. We pass Marshall’s own elaborate estate and then Nicholas Haver’s property. There is only one other home out this far, surrounded by a vast lonely thicket of woods and gray dusty skies—Demetri’s. My stomach boils as we head in that direction. Paragon sheds its dull pencil-gray coat for a carefree, ethereal blue. Even though this eerie glowing mist generally represents wickedness, I’ve come to love it in theory. It’s beautiful. The color itself breathes new life into me. If only it can breathe new life into—

  I take in a sharp breath. There it is. Demetri’s haunted hovel is back like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

  Demetri Edinger’s home sits high on the ridge in all of its wicked, arrogant glory as if it dares us to accuse it of ever leaving in the first place.

  Logan and I jump out of the car before it comes to a complete stop.

  A dark winged creature caws from the sky as Holden flaps down onto my shoulder rather dramatically, and I reach up to touch his feathers.

  I led him here, Skyla. I was the one who alerted Dudley as soon as the house reappeared.

  “Good job,” I pant, never taking my eyes off the over-constructed hall of horrors. “You will be rewarded.” I jerk him away as he takes flight. My heart hammers over my chest so hard I expect it to be the very next thing that takes flight. “This is the second leg of the adventure,” I say it breathless, my eyes never leaving what is now officially the most beautiful mansion I have ever laid eyes on.

  “Let’s go find Gage.” Logan takes up my hand, and we race up the marble steps to the palace of what has always represented darkness, and now here, today, it represents light.

  My heart beats wildly as we come upon the overgrown double doors shrouded in dark mahogany, the leaded glass ensconced in wrought iron.

  A tiny smile comes to my lips for the very first time in so long as I pant into a future with so much hope.

  “Let’s go find Gage.”

  Home Sweet Home

  GAGE

  There have been times in my life that I have wished to be anywhere but in my body. Most of those concern my discomfort of Skyla being with Logan, but this last one has to do with the unimaginable pain I’ve gone through these last few weeks.

  My spine was not severed. That is the good news. The shit news is that my back endured enough impact to require copious and stringent amounts of physical therapy from here to eternity.

  I’m human. It’s finally happened, although not at all in the way I had envisioned. When I finally convinced Candace that I was committe
d to shed my Nephilim heritage and become mortal through and through, she was quick to fill me in on the fact this was a no-go. I’m still a Fem. I’ve simply been stripped of my powers. Good enough for now. Although, in all heartbreaking honesty, I regretted the words as soon as they sailed from my lips. Sure, I was an asshole at the height of my power. Sure, I had turned into a megalomaniac who believed he was invincible and able to rule the universe. In effect, I had fully morphed into my half-brother, Wesley.

  I give a quick grimace as I readjust my position on the leather recliner. One of the assistants Demetri hired, and he has hired an entire infantry of them, helped get me settled in the media room. I’m pretty sure a decent amount of time has drifted by since the accident, and I’m also pretty damn sure there’s a very good reason why Logan and Skyla haven’t swung by. I’m not angry about that, or in the least concerned this means they don’t care. I know that my father, and, yes, I have claimed Demetri as such, much to his delight, has bound this madhouse of his somehow in an effort to keep them at bay. In truth, I don’t think I would have healed quite so well, quite so quickly on the outside. It’s safe to say supernatural forces have been busily at work, in addition to the ground troops he’s enlisted to mend me.

  I remember the sky twisting above, the sound of my voice as I called out for my wife, my pregnant, beautiful wife, and then a giant errant wave breaking my fall, soft as concrete. Nevertheless, I’m apprised of what’s been going on in Paragon for the duration of my absence, namely in Logan’s bedroom. Fucker.

  I’m not really all that pissed at Logan. More or less from what I could see, and Demetri made sure I could see every last bit, he was trying to ward her off—at least in the beginning. And I get that Skyla has needs. I just wish she didn’t have them so soon after I vacated the premises. I’m not upset with anybody, just extremely annoyed that I put everyone in this position to begin with. Although, I’m not sure what’s to become of Skyla and me. I’m not so sure we can get past this. Does she even want me anymore? Has she ever? If Demetri has done one thing efficiently, aside from my healing, he’s cast a shadow of doubt over my marriage, wide as a dragon’s wings.

  A rustle emits from the entry. The lights go on in the theater room, and I fully expect to find two assistants filing in to help me back to my room. I can almost make it on my own now. I just a need a cane to get by. I’m almost healed, but not quite. Aside from physical therapy, Demetri has flown in the best of the best in just about every related field of medicine. I’ve downed concoction after concoction just hoping to restore my body to a useable state. I need to get back to Skyla, if she’ll have me—to our baby.

  “Son.”

  Glancing back, I startle a bit to see Demetri coming this way.

  I grab ahold of my cane, an electric blue metal rod that’s light yet sturdy, and I’m betting not of this planet, and struggle to rise.

  “No need for that.” He glides over until he’s square in front of me and bows his head as a show of respect. It’s strange. Having Demetri Edinger bow in my presence makes me feel anything but human. “You have visitors.”

  “Skyla?” I’m ready to bolt at first mention. I’m sure I have enough adrenaline in me to circle this palace twice looking for her.

  “I’m bringing them to you.”

  Them? Logan is with her.

  I glance up at the overgrown screen where I saw the damning evidence for myself.

  “Not in here.” I wouldn’t put it past dear old Dad to produce a sound bite of all their most carnal moments—the white-hot horror of it all played out in surround sound. I don’t want them to know that I know. How juvenile is that? Furthermore, I don’t want them to see what I saw. They lived it. That should be enough. “And not in the Fem trophy room, or the throne room (He does indeed have one, and, yes, I have my very own gilded seat). Have them wait in the living room. I’ll make my way down.”

  “They’re well past the living room. She has your uncle in tow, as well as Sector Marshall. It’s quite a rude crew the way they’ve ambled inside without knocking, shouting and screaming your name as if I were holding you prisoner. Might I suggest the terrace?”

  Prisoner. I’d scoff in his face, but I’m not in the mood.

  “Yes.” I struggle to balance myself and limp the hell out of here as fast as I can. “You might.”

  The terrace is located one flight up and overlooks the west side of Paragon with an unobstructed ocean view. It’s where I’ve spent most of my days recuperating. I like the fresh air. I like knowing that Skyla can see the same blue water, the same dismal sky. The thought brought an ounce of pleasure to me. Just that, an ounce. Without her beside me, it could never be full measure.

  Demetri walks me to the baluster railing before heading to the door. I take in a lungful of fresh Paragon fog and observe the sky above lamp-lit by the papery moon. There’s a certainty about the airy mist, the sound of the evergreens rustling in the breeze. Something feels far more familiar about Paragon on this day than it has these last few, and I can’t put my finger on it.

  “Do me a favor and divert the Sector,” I say without looking back. “I’d like to be alone with Skyla and Logan.” I doubt that Dudley, nor anyone else, is in on their nighttime comfort sessions. Not that I plan on lambasting them. Hell, I don’t even plan on bringing it up. But that gloating Sector is the last person I want to see. I need this first visit to be pure, perfect, as I try to explain my way out of the paper bag I’ve crawled into.

  No sooner does Demetri disappear than I see two shadowed figures bulleting toward me. Skyla and Logan race out into the night and crash into my broken body. Their arms compress around me so tight, I can’t breathe—don’t want to. I want this moment to last forever with the three of us locked in this holy huddle. Logan isn’t merely my uncle—he’s something more than a brother. We are a single coin, each one side. And Skyla. My lips find her beautiful face, and I douse her with kisses.

  “I’ve missed you.” I pull her in closer still and bury my lips in her ear. “My God, I have missed you, Skyla Oliver, in the very worst way.”

  A trill of laughter bubbles from her as she pulls back, her face tear-slicked, as are Logan’s and mine.

  “What the hell happened?” Logan steps back and examines me. His eyes trace over my cane with a morbid curiosity.

  “You look fantastic.” Skyla tilts her head as she inspects me herself. “Gage? Are you alive?”

  “Yes.” I pull her in by the hips, letting my cane drop to the floor. “God, yes. I’m here. I had an accident. It’s a long story.”

  “We have all night,” Logan says it sober before I can add another word. His features harden as if I owed them an explanation, as if I’m the one who’s done something morally incomprehensible in the meantime.

  “We do have all night.” I rub my thumb along Skyla’s cheek like a promise. “I’m coming home. No one can stop me.”

  Skyla cups my face with both hands. Her eyes penetrate mine with that drunken look she wears just before we make love, and I can tell she’s making promises that she very much intends to keep beneath the sheets. I can’t wait. Her chest swells with her next breath. Her smile expands as wide as the sea as she steps into Logan and offers him an exuberant hug as well, and my ego drops off its high horse.

  “Gage, where were you?” Her breath plumes out white as feathers, her arm still linked over Logan’s shoulder in a congratulatory manner. “This was the first place we looked. Well, the house was gone, but you know that.”

  I glance back to the gaping open doors that lead to the terrace. The house was gone?

  “Demetri didn’t mention you came.”

  “Are you kidding?” Skyla is incensed by this. “We came by every day for weeks. I had—”

  Weeks? I cut her off without meaning to, “How long was I gone?”

  “Six weeks, four days.” Logan gives my arm a quick tap. “But we’re damn glad to have you back.”

  “Six weeks?” I hiss below my breath as I glare at th
e monstrosity behind them. “He didn’t let you in for six weeks?” I can’t believe I find this shocking, but I do. First of all, I thought it was days, four solid, one week at the most. And second of all, Demetri seemed to be helpful, on my side, assuring me that Skyla would be here any moment. Not that I could have done anything to change that fact. I was pretty much out of it in the beginning.

  Skyla shakes her head, confused. “He didn’t let us in because there was no house to be let into. No sooner did he take your body from the morgue than he took the entire house and up and disappeared.”

  A red rage brews in me. “He took the house? Wait, why was I in the morgue?”

  Skyla and Logan exchange glances. It’s clear information, vital information, might I add, was withheld from me.

  “Never mind it for now.” Skyla’s hand touches over her stomach, and my heart lurches. Does she know? If it’s been six weeks, she must. “I’ll tell you all about it once we get you home. I don’t want to spend one extra moment here than necessary.”

  I look to Logan, who is suddenly very quiet, very wary of the situation.

  “Six and a half weeks is a long time. Did anything happen while I was gone that I should know about?” I don’t know why I brought it up. It’s not exactly a conversation I’d want to continue on the drive back to the Landon house. It will certainly rile things up between Skyla and me.

  “Nothing.” Skyla’s eyes widen, and she shrugs as if she means it.

  Logan remains stiff and quiet as a statue—put him in the yard and watch the birds crap all over him. He’s not talking. I get it. I wouldn’t expect him to pony up that kind of salacious news, but Skyla seems to have forgotten all about it. Her joy is genuine. Her teeth illuminate the night with her smile.