The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  He’s right. Serena trembles as her feathers disperse. I went in knowing full well I was crawling into bed with wickedness. His name was Axel Thicket, and he was every girl’s dream. Only in my case, he ended up more of a nightmare. He asked for my hand in marriage, and my father said no, so we ran off and lived in the woods, ate berries and tree bark, caught fish in the lake when we could. The winter was harsh, and we nearly died, so we had no other choice but to go home. Father was angry that I had been defiled and took poor Axel to the Justice Alliance.

  “Wait,” I interrupt. “If Axel went to the Justice Alliance, why were you punished?”

  The Justice Alliance decided I was truly to blame. They reasoned Axel was only doing his wicked deeds by pulling me in. I was the one who should have known better.

  “Ugh!” I can feel my blood pressure spike. “I’m so sick of this bullshit! The Justice Alliance has no right to tell someone who to fall in love with. Who are they to say you can’t marry a Fem? I’m married to a Fem, and I’m damn proud of it.” Oh, for fuck’s sake, where did that come from?

  Gage rumbles with a quiet laugh. His dimples dig in and stay that way.

  That’s not all, she continues. Axel indeed wanted to please his father, and, of course, I went along with whatever my new husband decided. He was a half-breed, Genesis Josiah. His father was the Fem in question. His mother was Noster. In order to please his father, he was told he had to capture Celestra and imprison them in the dungeons. It was a new concept at the time. I hear you’ve closed them down. Congratulations.

  “So, you were sentenced for kidnapping, and possibly murder?” My hand slips from her back. I knew I should hesitate before falling for her cuteness. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. So glad you’ve survived the hunter’s bow.” I start winding up the window, and Holden lets out an ear-piercing cry, so very loud, I’m convinced I’ve hacked his wings off. “What?” I land over him in a near panic.

  Thank you for accepting her. She’s my new lady, and it means a lot that you were nice to her.

  I’m not too sure how nice I was. I offer a peaceable smile to Holden’s main squeeze. “You’re welcome. If you two need anything, you know where to find me. Please stay close tomorrow. We’re having a party, and the place is due for a Bishop haunting. I need all the help I can to keep her at bay.” Especially since my biggest craving to date is to claw her eyes out.

  They both give a twitching nod and fly off into the forest. Serena’s feathers glow like fireflies.

  “At least they have each other,” I say as I lean into Gage.

  “I still don’t like the idea of the Justice Alliance having the power to turn a person into an animal. It’s barbaric.”

  “I think the alternative is to be extinguished from existence.”

  “Which sucks.”

  “It does suck”—my lips twitch at the thought—“but at least they’re not alligators, snakes, or kitchen mice.”

  “The Justice Alliance would probably turn me into a donkey.” His dimples dig in once again, and I’m completely his.

  “Yes, but you would be my very own ass.” I suck in my bottom lip.

  “For now, I just want a bite out of your ass.” His mouth finds its way down my neck.

  “Let’s go somewhere,” I moan as he buries a kiss behind my ear. “I’ll teleport us. Rockaway? Our little love shack built for two?”

  He shakes his head. “How about the butterfly room? I’m starting to miss that place.”

  I blink us up faster than we’ve ever teleported anywhere before.

  “Skyla.” Gage furrows his brows as if he’s worried for me. His hand finds a home over my belly.

  “We’re fine.” I lift a finger, and the brightness of the trembling wings that surround us goes up, easy as a light switch. In a burst, they unleash from the walls, alive and beautiful, whirling through the tiny space like a blue tornado. I touch my fingers to their wings as they flutter around the room in a flurry, around us, between us, above and below us. It’s a frenzy of electric Celestra blue, so beautiful I wish I could share it with the world.

  “Well done.” His grin widens, and I take my time burying a kiss into each of his dimples.

  “We are far from done.” I snuggle up in his arms and give a wicked grin. “Make love to me, Gage.”

  “Yes, my queen,” he whispers, the clothes already sailing from his body.

  Gage covers my bare flesh with his wild, hot kisses. He drops to his knees and runs his searing tongue over my belly, kissing me, kissing the temporary home of his children, loving them, loving me. Gage takes his time licking over every last inch of my body until he’s bathed me with the hot of his mouth. His limbs slowly entwine with mine. His rock-hard muscles tense as he cages me in beneath him. It feels safe like this with Gage. With all of these new powers, the old ones combined, I’d like nothing more than to freeze this moment, trapping both of us in time. Gage has my heart now and forever more. There is simply no greater truth than this. I would do anything to encapsulate this feeling, my love for Gage frozen forever in a teardrop. I need to know he’ll always be safe by my side. I need to know that there is no chance that I’ll ever lose him to death. It’s too much for me to bear.

  Gage and I writhe, we wrestle, we reignite every passion we have ever felt for one another during these stolen hours in a room filled with electric blue dancing butterflies. We make achingly sweet love. We fuck like our lives depend on it. This isn’t your average coupling before bedtime. This is the knowing, the sensing that a big change is on the horizon, and, in our shared fright, we unite the only way we know, the best way we can think of. Making love to Gage is a pleasure, a treasure. This is the only pure truth I know.

  I love Gage Oliver.

  Yes, I do.

  Sunday, just minutes prior to the Landon bash in which my mother smiles and serves potato salad that sat in the hot sun for over eight hours yesterday, Ethan and Drake sit at the edge of their seats watching the news as if it was Hollywood’s latest, greatest release—a horror flick to be exact.

  “Would you fucking look at this?” Drake squeals with excitement while patting his head like a monkey.

  Gage humors them by plopping down on the couch, but Bree and I stand staunchly in the corner, crossing our arms in rebellion.

  The talking heads go on and on about UFO sightings, strange lights under the ocean near Southern California, and Baja, Mexico. An entire rash of lakes in Russia have turned blood red overnight. But the most disconcerting is a beast that washed up on shore in Spain. It’s pale and sickly looking, a cross between a giant fish and a dog.

  “It’s fake!” Melissa chirps as she and Mia bop into the room.

  “It’s badly photoshopped,” Mia adds. “We could do better than that with an app on my phone.” She and Melissa share a fist bump.

  “It’s nice to see you two getting along,” I say, following them to the kitchen. “You guys iron everything out?”

  “I’ll say they did.” Bree winks at the girls, and my stomach does a revolution. Who knew winking had the power to make me physically ill?

  Mia nods while plucking a wrapper off a Popsicle. “Brielle was the one who came up with the brilliant plan.”

  Second roll of nausea. Brielle and brilliance don’t often go hand in hand. Oh, wait…

  “What’s the brilliant plan? I’m dying here.” God, what if she’s endowed them with the Midas touch, and now everyone else in this family will be millionaires? Of course, Gage and I will still be paupers holed up in my old bedroom with our growing little brood. For a second, I picture the entire lot of us begging at the front door with dirty knit caps and fingerless gloves while Tad tries to chase us away with a broom.

  “We gave up boys for the summer.” Mia offers a lip-stained smile.

  “That is brilliant!” I high-five Bree just as a stream of guests floods the backyard. Tad has a big sign that sends the masses straight to the rear of the property, lest they trample through the house and steal his valuables�
�his words not mine. “Looks like it’s showtime.”

  The back of the Landon micro-mini estate is meticulously festooned for this leftover extravaganza. Mom and Tad went all out with the twinkle lights, even though the sun is theoretically still hiding behind the clouds. Rows and rows of tables covered with crisp white linens and ladder-back chairs dot the landscape all the way to the forest’s edge. Even Drake and Brielle’s mobile home is trimmed with lights as if it were Christmas Eve.

  To the left, an enormous spread of Demetri’s leftovers, still displayed in those giant plastic clamshells he had them in, sit just waiting to put a pox on the evening. Someone should put the emergency room on high alert. A catastrophic triage will be taking place in less than a few hours. Just the sight of Demetri’s glistening discards makes me want to vomit until my eyes fall out.

  Gage comes over, and we inspect the scene together.

  “We can’t go anywhere near the buffet,” I push the words out, trying to hold back the urge to puke. “That slippery Sector had better show. And not to be disrespectful, but would you mind throwing him my way as soon as he does?”

  “Consider it done.”

  Gage and I spot Demetri and Mom yakking it up while passing Misty between them like a hot out-of-wedlock potato.

  “Not going there,” I whisper. Instead, we migrate toward Logan, Coop, and Laken—three people I would gladly spend the next few hours with.

  “Don’t eat the food,” I offer the gentle warning before giving them each a quick hug. “My mother thinks it’s fine, but my better judgment begs to differ.”

  “So”—I turn to Laken while the boys talk Host football—“someone has a wedding coming right up!” I sing. I wanted to discuss it at length yesterday, but I was too drained after Lexy’s failed drowning attempt.

  Bree pops her head over my shoulder. “I smell a bachelorette party!” Her voice shrills over the crowd, and half the guests turn to inspect us. It’s odd that Bree would want in on the action, considering she and Laken hardly qualify as friends, but, seeing that there is a party (with potentially naughty implications), this doesn’t surprise me one plastic penis bit. “So, what are we planning?”

  “We?” Laken raises a brow.

  “Yes. The three musketeers.” Bree hops with enthusiasm when she says it. “I mean, I know you guys are knocked up at the same time and all, but there’s no reason to exclude me from the real fun. Besides, with the Landon I’m sleeping with, I’ll catch up in no time. Drake isn’t known for firing blanks.”

  “Geez.” I land my hands over her shoulders and give a sturdy shake. “Do not get yourself knocked up, Bree. You already have a beautiful, beautiful, child.” My voice dips to its most pathetic register as I start to cry. “I’m sorry.” I attempt to sniff back tears. “I’m just so emotional lately.”

  “It’s okay. So am I.” Laken pulls me in. “Of course, not for the same reasons. So, where is this bachelorette thingy going to take place?” She presses in with a sweet smile trying to make me feel better.

  “Skyla’s obviously too sick—and perhaps out of her mind to properly plan out the event.” Bree sweeps the hair from my face, and the cool Paragon mist swoops in and kisses my forehead. “I’ll handle all the dirty details. Friday night before the wedding, you bitches are mine.”

  “Not the night before my wedding,” Laken protests.

  “Fine, we’ll do it earlier that week.” Bree shrugs it off as she skips her way past us. “Get those fake IDs ready, girls!” She lets out a riotous howl.

  “I don’t drink,” Laken says just under her breath.

  “Under the circumstances, neither do I.” A couple at the edge of the woods catches my attention—a tall, boxy Frankenstein lookalike and his redheaded villainous girlfriend. “The Interlopers!”

  Logan and Gage turn to me before following my gaze.

  “I’ve seen them everywhere.” Coop looks unimpressed with our government-issued spies. “They even spent a few hours on Host the other day.”

  “Great,” I hiss. My mother cackles so loud the hair stands up on the back of my neck. I glance over and spot her still glued to the hip with the demented demon, the exact one who spawned the child bouncing between them. “Hey, what if we hand-feed them Demetri?”

  “He’s got an umbrella around his DNA.” Gage frowns, his arms finding a home around my waist. “So does Wes.”

  “What’s new with the Barricade?” Coop widens his stance, his arms cross over his chest in the same way Logan is positioned, and they look like twins—twins that happen to be a little skeptical of Gage at the moment. It’s probably just the way the light is hitting their eyes, but they do look rather pissed.

  Gage sighs, his chest rises and falls against my back. “They’ve been accepting faction sacrifices all week. About ten a night, so far I’ve counted sixty men.”

  “What?” I spin into him. “Why didn’t you tell me this?” My adrenaline spikes. My skin grows so hot with rage it feels as if it’s about to melt off the bone. “Why would you keep this from me?”

  “I’m not keeping anything from you,” he says it sweetly, measured. His eyes bear into mine as if to assert this is the truth. “I wanted to tell all of you at the same time, and I didn’t want anything to upset you—like it clearly has. Besides, it’s given me a little time to do some homework. I was able to track down the identities of all those participating thus far.”

  “Where’s the list?” Logan isn’t nearly as ticked as I am that Gage waited over a week to fill us in on this tidbit, but I suppose his argument is valid. Plus, now, apparently there’s a list.

  “Dudley has it.”

  “Dudley?” Coop and Logan say in unison.

  “Popular, aren’t I?” Marshall appears from out of the shadows, his crimson eyes glowing like cauldrons. “Ms. Messenger.” He extends his hand to me, and I take ahold of it. Gage doesn’t release me, and I don’t fight him. Marshall’s feel-good sensations strum from his limb to mine, radiating all throughout my body like a poem inscribed on a diamond—sheer perfection, sheer delight.

  “Yes,” I moan with a little too much pleasure, and Laken shakes her head just enough to let me know it’s so not cool. “I mean, of course. Tell us about the list.”

  “They’re your people, Skyla.” Gage warms my neck with his words. “It’s mutiny at its best. The Barricade has convinced them this will offer immunity to their families, their children, and their children’s children. People are signing on by the droves.”

  “What’s the sacrifice?” Laken’s eyes round out with a mixture of horror and heartbreak.

  Gage leans in. “They pull a few circus stunts, convince the world ‘they’ are out there and dangerous. Call attention to themselves for all the wrong reasons.”

  “That’s it?” I’m shocked Wes has made it so easy. “Drake and Ethan do that for free on a daily basis.”

  Gage drops his gaze to the ground a moment. “This is sort of a death-do-you-part commitment. They’re married to the cause. If the government catches them, they play along. They do all their show-pony tricks until the rest of us—you”—he grimaces—“are walking around with targets on your backs.”

  “You can’t see our targets,” Coop points out.

  “Not until there’s a mandatory blood test—or something far simpler, a swab of the lining of your cheek.” Gage takes in a breath. “Some sort of DNA purging will take place until the Nephilim, those outside of the Barricade have been contained.”

  My heart wallops in my chest like a dying carp. “We need Ezrina.”

  “She and Heathcliff have been informed.” Marshall gives my hand a squeeze, and my body settles down.

  You do look stunning tonight, Ms. Messenger. He raises his brows, his smile transforming into something just this side of lewd.

  Down, boy. No flirting.

  “Skyla!” Mom sings from across the way with Emma and Barron by her side.

  “We’d better get over there.” I lean hard into Gage as we step away
from our small group, my fingers lingering onto Marshall’s until the distance breaks us apart. We head over toward Brielle and Drake’s love shack to where our families have converged for yet another awkward exchange.

  “Look who’s here!” Mom’s eyebrows dig into her forehead unnaturally, and I take Misty from her while giving a little wave to Emma and Barron.

  Sky—la.

  I glance down at the tiny half-breed Fem in my arms and startle.

  Misty! Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God! Can you hear me?

  “La-la!” She smacks my chest over and over again, enthused. Her cute little dimples press in, and my stomach clenches. She looks so much like Gage—her half-brother-slash-uncle. The need to vomit ratchets up again. Stupid Demetri.

  “Aw!” Mom coos. “I think she’s trying to say Skyla.”

  “She is a smart one.” I stare into her beautiful dark blue eyes. What’s going on, Misty? Is there something you’d like to say to me? Perhaps a plea to help get her as far away from Demetri as possible? A request like that would make her extremely bright.

  She pinches my nose as if expecting it to honk. Skyla. A cute gurgle of a laugh escapes her.

  Hmm. Turns out, she’s a one-hit wonder for now. I smile down at her while rubbing my nose over hers.

  “Dada.” Her tiny little fingers point to the side, straight to the demon Dada himself. Geez. I glare at Demetri from across the yard. It would figure. His ego could never deny her the pleasure of calling him Daddy. I’m sure as a cover he’ll request that all the Landon children do so. Fat chance, buddy. I glance to Gage and frown because he happens to belong to the Dada in question.

  The backyard is teeming with bodies, and it feels as if twice as many people are here than were at Demetri’s oversized pool party. God, forget about the Olivers committing mass murder with poisoned spiced cake—with the tepid temptations Mom is offering tonight, she’ll revive the morgue’s economy by midnight.

  Barron nudges Emma, and she scowls a moment before forcing a smile in my direction. “You look just lovely tonight, Skyla.”