The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  “Oh no,” I protest. “If this involves some seventeenth century whorehouse, he can just shelve the idea.”

  “I’ll keep them in line.” Nev zips away with Logan and Gage, and Coop is quick to follow.

  “I think you had them at whorehouse.” Bree nods, satisfied with the idea.

  “Doubtful.” I scowl over at them all huddled with glee. “So, what’s new with you?”

  “I did a little shopping!” Bree sings, à la my mother. Me thinks Bree is hanging out a little too much at Landon Central. “Just a little something for you.” She tosses a small wad of white fabric at my face, and I tug and pull at it before gasping at the sight.

  “Bree!” Now it’s me singing, although a much whinier, amused version. “This is adorable.” It’s the tiniest cotton onesie in the world with the words Made in Paragon scrawled across the front with a Sharpie.

  Laken moans with delight and takes it from me to inspect. “So stinking tiny and cute!”

  “I love it. Thank you, Bree.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. It’s part of a gift set.” She smacks me in the face with another, much larger wad of fabric, and I pause before untangling this one. “Is that a thing? Is throwing gifts in people’s faces the in thing to do now?” I’m not sure if I’m being bitchy, or if I’m asking a genuine question. God knows I feel out of the loop after spending the last few weeks holed up in the butterfly room.

  I pull a much larger T-shirt open in front of me and laugh. “Made in Paragon!” I chirp. There’s an arrow pointing down to the bottom of the shirt where my belly would be. “It’s perfect.”

  “Are you kidding?” Bree snaps it back and inspects it. “It’s solid gold. I just thought of this idea last night. Drake and I just finished having the most delicious food sex, and you were the first thing that popped into my head.”

  God.

  Laken titters enough for both of us, only I don’t find it all that funny.

  “What?” Bree squawks at her. “She’s my BFF. She’s always on my mind. It’s just something true BFFs do.” Bree tosses her head side-to-side while staring at the ceiling. “So I was like, wow, that was amazing mind-blowing sex. I bet that’s the exact kind of sex Skyla and Gage had when they made that cute little bugger floating around in her belly. Of course, you guys probably didn’t have a ketchup fight that led to a hotdog fight, then finished it off with some relish in hard to reach places.”

  “Oh, gross.” Laken taps her hand over her chest like she might be sick.

  “Skyla and the G-Man are pretty vanilla.” She wrinkles her nose, and for a second, I contemplate smacking that look right off her face. It was that exact ridiculous comment that landed Gage and me into an anal sex aborting position, which sponsored the G-Man to remember another one of our asinine friend’s cryptic words—I’m looking at you, Ellis—and thus filling my body with three floating—angels. Furthermore, I’d never refer to my babies as something slimy that drips from your nose. I glare at Bree for a moment for even insinuating they were.

  “Ketchup?” Laken nods as if looking for clarity. “Wow, you really do know how to party. You’re right, Bree”—she lays the sarcasm a little heavy when she says her nickname—“that is the very opposite of vanilla.”

  “Oh, honey”—Brielle flicks her wrist—“you don’t know the half of it. I should write a how-to book.” Her eyes round out like a pair of shiny new half dollars. “I should totally write a book! Think of all the tips and tricks I have to share! I can call it something like Power Positions. Wait—I should totally work the name Paragon in there somewhere. Paragon Power Positions!” She’s pretty much speaking to herself at this point, staring off at some invisible horizon, laden with wealth building ideas, I’m sure. It seems neither she nor Drake can do no wrong when it comes to business ventures—sexual as they may be. “I mean, the Made in Paragon line is pretty much set in stone. We have fifteen national retailers and boutiques purchasing from us. We don’t even make that shit by hand anymore.” She leans in aggressively. “But I totally made yours. By the way, thank you for that thunder bolt. As of today, Made in Paragon has officially expanded into maternity wear and infants. I just got off the phone with my marketing team back in L.A.”

  She has a marketing team back in L.A.? Wow, I never thought I’d say this, but I envy Brielle Landon, nee Johnson, in a very big way. She’s really made something of herself—sans the whole hotdog condiment nightmare she’s wrapped up in between the very stained sheets.

  “I bet the book will be a best-seller,” Laken says it dry as if coming to terms with Bree’s stubborn success herself.

  Brielle waves it off. “I’ll have to shelve it for now. Get it? Shelve it?” She fans her turquoise fingernails at the two of us. “I’m too busy working on my new line of Paragon Polish—Spellbound. I’ve got nuChloe to help out.” She jerks her polished thumb behind the counter. “This shit never chips.”

  I glace over at Ezrina helping with the customers. “I’ll take a bottle.” Not that I can afford one. But if Ezrina had anything to do with the chemical makeup of that product, you can bet that both gel nails and acrylics will never see this coming.

  “Me, too,” Laken muses while fondling Bree’s fingers. “So, is that what you do all day? Think of great ideas?” Again, she looks far more pensive than necessary. Laken is still not on board with Brielle in general.

  “That’s right. Someone’s gotta make this world a better place. Right now, I’ve got two hundred bottles to name. Do you know how hard it is to name a bottle of nail polish? It’s like I’ve got to channel freaking Einstein just to get through this nightmare.”

  “It can’t be that hard.” Laken blinks a smile. “Nail polishes have all kinds of crazy, fun names like Pale Moon, Red Christmas Ribbon, and Sugar Cookie.”

  “Oh!” Bree jumps in her seat, making a quick note of Laken’s ideas on her phone.

  “Plus, you could put a Paragon spin on it,” I add. “Like for the black sand beach—Rockaway Noir. And for a dark blood red, you can call it Devil’s Peak. Pale blue can be Rolling Mist.”

  Brielle taps onto her phone so fast it nearly skips from her hands. “Keep ’em coming.”

  “How about Chloe’s Breath for a putrid shade of yellow?” Hey! I’m really getting into this.

  “Charming,” a voice chirps from behind, and I turn to find the she-devil herself. “I’ve got one, Bree. How about for the most beautiful shade of Celestra blue, you call it Making Love to Logan?” Her finger strums over my cheek as she heads toward the back.

  Celestra blue? So much for a code word.

  “Anyway, I have news.” I pull a tiny piece of paper from my purse and carefully present it to both Brielle and Laken. “It’s from my ultrasound.”

  “Is this the baby?” Brielle leans in and coos at the picture as if they were already here.

  “That’s wonderful!” Laken’s forehead wrinkles. “I’m not really good at reading these. Where exactly is the baby?”

  “Well, duh.” Bree takes great delight in being the knowledgeable one in all things maternity. “Here’s the head, here’s the tail, and that’s the trunk.” Maybe not so knowledgeable.

  “Um, no tail.” My face heats because for whatever reason this feels like impossible news to share. “That’s baby number one. That’s baby number two. And that’s baby number three.” My heart races as if I’ve just finished the Ironman. I watch their expressions as they dissipate from delighted to significantly concerned. It’s alarming to see them agreeing on anything, even if it is on an emotional level.

  “Skyla!” Brielle lifts both hands in the air as if I just took first place in the Mommy Marathon.

  “Skyla?” Laken looks as if I just swallowed a live goldfish—three of them to be exact.

  There’s the wide divide I know and love—sort of.

  “I know.” I bring my hands to my ears. “It’s so odd, and yet”—I shrug—“I’m strangely okay with having these three tiny beings come into my life, that I can n
either afford to clothe nor feed at the moment.”

  “Come here.” Laken pulls me into a tight embrace, and spontaneously I sob over her shoulder. Damn hormones. But mostly, I’m just scared as all hell.

  “Group hug!” Brielle dives in over me, and for the first time in a long while, I feel the weight of their love, literally.

  “Having a threesome?” Chloe gargles as she makes herself at home. “In public no less?” She clucks her tongue like the poultry I wish she’d morph into. “Nice little picture of baby? Oh, wow—it looks like I should I say babies. My, Skyla, aren’t you ambitious? Having the entire junior department at once. I always did think you tried too hard.” She twists her lips, amused.

  Bree nods. “If one of them is a girl, you should totally give her your ship name.”

  Laken and I stare at her as if this should start making sense in just a few seconds.

  “You know, your couple’s name—Skyla and Gage—Sage.”

  “Oh, right.” I consider it a moment. But in my mind, they’re all girls.

  Chloe leans in closer to inspect the slim piece of paper, and I snap it off the table, burying it back inside my purse.

  “No worries.” Chloe drums her nails over the Formica, and the sound is almost as annoying as her presence. “Your secret is safe with me.” She leans in, and instantly, I know she’s coming in for the kill. “You have a habit of spilling your own secrets, Skyla. You know that little weather phenomenon you caused about an hour ago? It only rained over the Gas Lab. Some very important people have taken note. In fact, here’s a heads-up for you; some very important people are taking a lot of fucking notes. Keep up the good work, Messenger. You’ll have the Nephilim locked up in no time.”

  She rises from her seat just as Logan, Gage, and Coop come back.

  “Ta-ta for now.” Chloe runs her finger over my husband’s lips, and he flinches from her reach. “See you in my dreams.” She hums as she heads out the door.

  “Chloe says there are people watching us.” My heart thumps because she’s right about that whole spilling my own secrets thing.

  “We know.” Logan is telling me something with his eyes. It’s not a very good thing when he does this. “The Interlopers”—he says in air quotes—“came by the other day with Tad and introduced themselves. We had Marshall run their names. Turns out, Agent Moser and Agent Killion don’t work for Althorpe at all.”

  My body pulsates and quivers. Already I know this is going to be a crap piece of news.

  “Who do they work for?” The words tremble out of me like a flock of frightened birds.

  Gage closes his eyes a moment. “They work for the government.”

  And there it is.

  The end as we know it has come to the island.

  A small tremor runs through the establishment as if Paragon herself were quivering.

  The Beast Within

  GAGE

  Night falls, and Skyla and I opt to hang out at Dudley’s. Scratch that. Skyla strongly suggests we remain fastidiously planted at Dudley’s. I have a feeling I know where this night is headed. The other alternative was dinner at my parents’, and truthfully, I’ve been avoiding them a bit. I’m afraid I might blurt out the fact that Skyla and I are having a baby, three of them to be exact. I don’t care for keeping things from them, and this is something huge that my entire heart is dying to share with the world. I don’t know how I’ll make it all the way to Demetri’s party.

  “Marshall?” Skyla calls as she bursts through the doors first. Her voice rises with that nausea-inspired twang. I’ll admit, it wrenches my balls just a little that I’m not the man that can bring Skyla comfort when she needs it most. And it’s in hours like these that I seriously have myself reconsidering my newly human-issued status. All of the genetics of a Fem, none of the fun. Brilliant. And that’s exactly what I’m not.

  “What’s up?” Logan comes over and gives me five, pulling me in for a hug. “Dudley’s outside.”

  Skyla bolts toward the back without hesitation, and I grimace.

  “She’s not feeling so hot.”

  “Sorry about that. Everyone’s healthy, so I guess that’s all that matters.”

  “There is one person I wouldn’t exactly call healthy.” Here it goes. I’ve been avoiding this conversation, but it’s bound to happen.

  “What’s wrong? Is it your back? I talked to Brody, and he says he’ll work on you for free.”

  Turns out, Brody Bishop is a newly minted physical therapist who is more than willing to work on my broken body.

  “Cool. I know where to find him.” He’s been shacking up with Brookelynn next door. Although walking up the mile long staircase to the Johnson house will be therapy enough. “But, no, it’s not me. It’s you, dude.”

  “I’m not healthy?” He raises his brows as if questioning my sanity.

  “I know—I get it. You’re dead. But it’s what I did to your body, the earthly one.” I gave it to Wes who reduced it to mincemeat and bones. And for now, as far as I know, the remains are in a fridge down in Ezrina’s new lab. “I’m so pissed at myself. You don’t know the half of it.”

  “It’s okay.” His face fills with color a moment. “I know you’re beating yourself up over it. I know it’s the reason you did what you did at Devil’s Peak. Don’t worry about me.”

  “What did I do at Devil’s Peak?”

  He doesn’t say anything, and it’s easy enough to fill in the blank.

  The room explodes with laughter as both Ellis and Giselle titter at whatever it is they’re watching.

  “Shit.” I pull Logan toward the back door. “I told you. It was that fucking psychotic mother of hers.” The night sky ignites in a fit of lightning so thick and wide the room glows bright as noon.

  Giselle lets out a viral scream at the sight, and Michelle Miller runs down the stairs, partially dressed.

  I pull Logan outside. There’s not a lot of drama I’ve got room for tonight.

  “I know that’s your story.” He pulls loose from my grip. “But you left that fucking cryptic poem. It’s hard to believe you intended on coming back.” He needles those dark eyes into mine until I feel the sting.

  “I wouldn’t hurt myself. I wouldn’t do that to Skyla, to our children, our family.” I steady into him with my sharp gaze. Of all the people on the planet, I would think Logan would know me well enough. “Forget it. I was just about to say that I’m going to talk to Demetri about restoring you. I’d bring it up to Candace, but she’s not having it with me.”

  “Don’t worry about my body. I don’t need it. You need yours. Keep your nose clean, and stick around for a good long while for those three kids that will be here soon. You’re going to be a dad, Gage.” A smile pumps from his lips. “Can you believe it?”

  I want to meet him right there with his joy, but the truth about his body rises up in the back of my throat like bile.

  “The reason I gave Wes and Demetri your body was so that I could live to a ripe old age.” I swallow hard with the admission. “I tried to steal your life, Logan. I’m so sorry. I can’t live with the guilt. I don’t want something that was never meant for me in the first place.”

  His jaw pops in light of the revelation.

  “I was a selfish bastard, and it ate me up inside until I made my way to Candace that night. I thought I was hot shit when Demetri crowned me King of the Videns. That I was just coming into my own as the Prince of Darkness at all those underworld roundtables with Wes and the Barricade. I thought I could straddle both sides of the fence—and I was wrong. But here I am, thinking about doing it all over again. What the hell is wrong with me?”

  “This time you’re going in with both eyes open.” He clamps his hand down over my shoulder. “You can do this, Gage. With my support, with Skyla’s, you’ve got this in the bag. But now you’re not just protecting the Nephilim people; you’re protecting your own children as well. You’ve already toyed with the power, and it took a shit on you. And now you go in as the spy
you were born to be and take them down from the inside. You’re our only hope, Gage. Nobody else has the kind of access they’re offering you.” He slaps my back. “Now, what are you waiting for?”

  Skyla and Dudley come upon us, and I groan inwardly. “Permission.”

  I glare at the smug Sector a moment. God only knows what the hell he just did to my wife.

  Dudley sneers at the two of us. “It appears you seek reentrance to your father’s lair. Why is this even a thought I was forced to entertain? Wickedness begets wickedness—”

  Skyla smacks him over the arm. “Behave.”

  Dudley’s shoulders sag a moment. “Do as you wish, young Oliver. Do remember this—your wife and child rely on you to be honest, upstanding, and a noble head of the family. Dive into evil at your own peril.”

  “I’m not diving into evil. I’m done. I’ll talk to Demetri tonight. If he wants me to take down the Nephilim right along with him, he’s in for a rude awakening.”

  Dudley closes his eyes as if he’s run out of patience “He’ll know you’re there to keep watch. What is the purpose of this farce?”

  Deep down I know, but I’m not too eager to pour it out. But as much as I’d like to keep the lid on it, I’ve seen where that’s taken me.

  “It’s my family.”

  Both Skyla and Logan take a breath and hold it.

  “Breathe.” I kiss her over the cheek. “You are the only family that I am concerned with. What I mean is, it’s a part of who I am—I can’t deny it. I’m genuine in wanting to understand how his demented genes have navigated themselves into my body. And if I’m not evil, if I have a heart and compassion for the Nephilim people, of which our children—his grandchildren belong to—maybe I can get him to lighten up.”

  “The mercy plea.” Logan nods as if he doesn’t like it, but he gets it. “Be careful.”

  “And no secrets.” Skyla doesn’t look sold on the idea, but, like Logan, she seems to get it.