The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  “Wow,” Chloe bleats. “Even with another man’s baby in your belly, you insist on peeing a circle around your favorite Oliver. How does that make you feel, Gage?”

  I glare at the sky for that stupid bird. If Holden wants to prove himself, he’s doing a lousy job. My blood turns to lava as my general frustration with the night begins to hit a boiling point.

  “I’ll show you how it makes him feel.” I step up and offer a crisp slap to Bishop’s bitchy little face, and the crowd around us gasps.

  I glance around in horror. Usually, I just dream about whacking her, about hitting her so hard her teeth fly into the back of her throat, and she chokes to death on those chunky calcified rocks, but, for whatever reason, I couldn’t control myself. Oh my God. I stare down at my hand, still stinging from the effort. It’s as if I have no filter and no control over my emotions anymore. I’ve become a danger to myself and society at large. The next thing you know, I’ll be mowing the bitch squad down with the Mustang.

  “Skyla!” Bree is quick to comfort her. “She’s with child.”

  “So is she.” Laken comes to my defense. “And all that bratty little witch ever does is antagonize her.” Laken’s rage against Chloe is mostly personal, but I love the show of camaraderie.

  Wes shows up and nods to Gage as if to ask what’s going on, but it’s not him I’m worried about. It’s the two that have followed him over. Lingering near the back of Bree and Drake’s trailer are Killion and Moser, looking ever so interested in our adolescent exchange.

  Chloe gets up in my face, her eyes glossy with hatred, and it’s all I can do to keep from strangling her just to satisfy the craving.

  “You little bitch.” She smooths her hand over the side of her face, swollen with the imprint of my hand. I used every Celestra-Fem-based ounce of strength in me to whack her into tomorrow. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  The urge to finish the job bounces through me. The downright hand-trembling intense desire to claw her face to shreds jolts through me, and I roll my head back and cry, “Holden!”

  She huffs a laugh, and I taste her breath as she leans into me, hard. Wes comes over and tries to pull her away as Gage secures his arm around me.

  Chloe spits in my face. “There will be an hour, Messenger, that you will beg for my help, but I will be the last to give it!”

  “Oh, tell me something new,” I hiss as I wipe the filth off my eye. A dark shadow of a bird circles overhead, and behind him a glowing white flame, Serena. Holden and his fair-feathered beauty make the rounds, lower and lower with each revolution as Chloe begins to sputter and cough.

  “Come on.” Wes tries to pull her into the woods. “We’d better go. This isn’t good for the baby.” But Chloe digs her spiked heels into the soil as her eyes start to glow an eerie shade of Satan, and, swear on my life, I’m seeing the inkling of horns sprouting from her head.

  “I’m not done!” She gags on the words as Holden flies ever so much closer, his lady friend soaring over him in concert, and it’s a mesmerizing sight.

  I spot Killion pulling out her phone and recording the strange phenomenon. Scratch that. There isn’t one paranormal thing about a couple of birds looking to scavenge off a piece of stale bread.

  “Go back to hell, you little witch!” The words heave from me. “And do us both a favor, and stay there this time!”

  Holden comes in low until he lands soft over my shoulder, and Chloe lets out a harrowing cry.

  “I hate you, Skyla Messenger! I hate you!” A thunderous roar emits from her as she explodes in a flash of fire and ashes.

  “Holy shit!” someone cries from deep in the crowd. “Did you see that?”

  Crap. Leave it to Chloe to inadvertently start the apocalypse.

  I glance over to the government dream scheme and find their faces set agog.

  “They saw,” I hum the words without moving my lips.

  “They don’t know she’s really gone.” Logan forms a huddle with Coop and Laken, motioning for us to join in. “Walk to the woods.”

  We walk toward the wall of evergreens as Nat tries to calm a hysterical Michelle Miller.

  Where is Liam and his magical dick when you need him most?

  We hit the periphery of the property until I’m unable to see ether Killjoy or Poser anymore.

  “Coast is clear,” I whisper.

  Wes calls to Gage from a good distance away and excuses himself before heading over. I can’t help but frown at their newfound solidarity. Or at least it seems as if they’re enjoying a harmonious relationship these days.

  I pull Logan to the side. “Thanks to Chloe, we’ve just fed those government minions exactly what they wanted—paranormal proof that Bishop is an idiot.”

  He pumps a dry smile, and that horizontal divot I gave him inverts. “I’m more worried about the people Wes recruited to work against the Barricade.”

  “Yes, I know. We have to get to those people, Logan,” I pant. For a brief moment, I entertain the thought of letting Laken and Coop in on our plan, but then Holden does a fly by with his blonde bombshell, and I cringe at the thought of putting anyone else in danger. The Justice Alliance will not hesitate to turn the whole lot of us into a flock of angry birds should they find out what we’re up to.

  Gage heads back in this direction.

  “We’re shutting this shit down,” I say to Logan, low as a whisper. “Wes might have the Immunity League, but we have a league of our own. The Don’t-Fuck-with-my-People League.” I give a curt nod. “Wes is about to fight dirty, and so are we.”

  “Yes, we are.” Logan steadies his gaze over mine. That smile of his has long since dissipated. “Is there a reason we’re not letting them in on this?” He ticks his head toward Laken and Coop.

  “I don’t want the Justice Alliance to turn us all into a bunch of glorified homing pigeons.”

  He winces. “Got it. But they won’t. I’m dead, they can’t charge me with jack, and you’re untouchable. You and I both know that.”

  Laken and Coop come over.

  “What’s going on?” Coop asks with his chin tucked in the same manner as Logan’s, and, for a moment, I think I’m seeing double.

  “Nothing.” I straighten as Gage joins us, and I pull him in. “We’d better head back to the party.”

  I don’t say a word to Gage about what Logan and I talked about. I’m not sure why I don’t feel too guilty about this.

  Perhaps it’s because he waited a week to tell me about the traitors. Maybe I’ll wait a week before I tell him about the fact I’ll be hunting those exact deserters down myself.

  I smile up at my beautiful husband.

  Fair is fair.

  The Fixer

  GAGE

  There is a lethargy, a calm like no other that comes from telling the truth. Skyla and I lay in bed for the better half of the next day. Lizbeth spent the majority of the afternoon at Demetri’s, cleaning up from the party he had two days ago so it was beautifully restful with Skyla in my arms—me taking care of her, bringing her food when she could stomach to look at it. Come Tuesday, Dad asks me to run by Cost Club and pick up a few things for Mom who insists on cooking us a big meal.

  “You sure you’re up for this? Logan mentioned he needed to make a food run for the bowling alley, so if you want to stay here and rest, I’m more than okay with it.”

  “No way, no how. You can’t stop me.” She pulls on a pair of long leather boots over her jeans. It’s pouring caskets outside. Those two days of sunshine were completely manufactured, and if Chloe’s sudden disappearance from the party the other night didn’t tip off Thing One and Thing Two, then the miraculous weather event for sure did the trick. “Besides, I want to look into a few things myself like, you know, baby stuff. Three babies are going to need a ton of supplies. We may as well take a peek and see what we’re up against.”

  “Sounds good.” I wrap my arms around her before we head downstairs. “I just want to let you know that I really think we’re going to
be okay. Accounting agrees with me. I can’t believe my dad and Logan were shelling out the big bucks to some pricey firm on the mainland. Not only am I saving them some serious cash, but we’re finally making it. I swear, I think I found my calling. All I do is put the game on in the background and sit and crunch numbers. It’s a cakewalk.”

  “Really?” Skyla’s eyes shine like river stones. “That’s great. How about writing? You’re not giving up on that, are you?”

  “To quote you—no way, no how. You can’t stop me.” I lean in and take a bite out of her bottom lip as we make our way into the family room. It’s true. I’ve been hacking away at the novel I’m working on whenever I get the chance. I’m hoping that one day I’ll make something out of it. I take another bite of her lip before moving to her ear.

  “Get a room,” Melissa snips. Crap. I’m sort of hoping both of my new sisters-in-law will outgrow their snippy stage. Or in the least, Skyla and I will outgrow, outrun, or simply get out of this house and avoid the tension altogether.

  “We just left our room.” Skyla gives a placid smile. “You wouldn’t believe the mayhem that went on in there.” She gives me a quick wink, and my dick starts to tick.

  Skyla has always had the ability to get me going with just a wink and a smile.

  “You’re sick!” Melissa tosses a pillow at her.

  “Watch it!” Mia shouts, too late to intercept the throw. “She’s having a baby!”

  “She’s not having it now.”

  Lizbeth scurries out of the kitchen and cups Skyla’s cheeks with her palms. “I still can’t believe my baby girl is having a baby! How are you feeling? Are your breasts sore? Have they exploded in size? Are they killing you yet? Do you need a bigger bra? Are you leaking?”

  “Mom.” Skyla gently removes herself from her mother’s clutches while Mia and Melissa pretend to retch. “There are people around.”

  “What people? The girls don’t care. Are you talking about Gage? Oh, hon, I’m sure long before you ever got to this stage he’s quite familiar with what’s happening in your brassiere. Besides, I’m sure he wants you to feel your best, too. That’s why I’m taking you shopping to invest in a good nursing bra. And I’m going to give you a few tips. It’s never too early to roughen up your nipples, you know. Most young mothers don’t think to do that, and then they’re shocked that breastfeeding hurts so much in the beginning. Nipple treatment is an integral part of—”

  “Crap. Excuse me.” Skyla groans under her breath as she rushes to the coffee pot.

  “Oh no, you don’t, missy!” Lizbeth cuts her off at the pass. “Your caffeinated days are over.”

  “That’s okay.” I pull Skyla back before she commits an all out assault over her inability to caffeinate herself properly. “I’m taking her to breakfast. We’re headed to Cost Club after. You need anything?”

  “Well, look at this.” Tad pops into the room. “Mr. Hot Shot offering to pick up the grocery tab.”

  Shit.

  Lizbeth holds up a hand as if to stave off his lunacy—not that it were possible. Tad Landon’s lunacy is an unstoppable force. “Actually, I was headed that way myself. Why don’t we go together? Demetri asked me to pick up a few things for him.” She cuts a glance to her questionable better half. “It’s for an event he’s hosting this fall.”

  Buying food now for an event that’s not scheduled for months? Sounds about right. If I can say one thing about Demetri, it’s that he likes to plan ahead—twenty years in my case.

  Skyla grunts, “Serving up a little listeria with his lunchmeat? What event is he hosting so I’ll know to steer clear?”

  “It’s a wedding and no lunch meat for you either, young lady. Do you have Dr. Cara Vale’s new book? What Happens When You’re Expecting: A Step-by-Step Guide Through the Most Important Nine Months of Your Child’s Life?”

  “Nope. Haven’t read it.”

  “Oh, I’ll have to pick up another copy. I just gifted one to Chloe. It even has a pullout calendar we can put right here on the fridge, and that way the whole family can track your uterine changes right along with you!”

  “Gross.” Melissa plucks the coffee pot right in front of Skyla. “Can’t wait to read all about your separating pelvic bones.”

  “You’re so smart!” Lizbeth pats her on the head. “But that won’t happen for another few months.”

  Mia gives a disgruntled moan. “Well, actually, I can’t wait to learn what size the baby is in your stomach right now. Can I feel it?” She lands her hand over Skyla’s belly. “Oh, wow. You’re already huge!”

  “I’m not huge.” Skyla’s face blushes ten shades.

  Lizbeth pulls back Skyla’s T-shirt, revealing a rather round budding belly.

  Where did that come from?

  “I know.” She looks up. “It’s like I woke up this morning, and my stomach sort of arrived in big-bellied style. It’s just weird. I can’t even button my jeans without this silly rubber band trick that Brielle used to do.” She wiggles the button on her jeans, and sure enough, it’s suspended by a rubber band.

  “Skyla”—Lizbeth runs her hand over her daughter’s swollen belly—“you need a whole new wardrobe.”

  “Your mom is right. We need to get you some clothes.” Knowing Skyla, she’ll refuse the offer, but it doesn’t change the fact this is happening.

  “Don’t even worry about it. I can wear sweats. I love sweats. This is the perfect excuse to live in them.”

  “What am I thinking?” Lizbeth squeals so loud both Misty and Beau toddle in to see what’s the matter. “I have an entire box of maternity clothes I can gift you.”

  “Again, I can wear sweats.” Skyla turns toward me and winces at the thought of donning her mother’s maternity discards.

  Little Misty lifts her mother’s shirt and ducks inside.

  “Looks like someone wants a snack.” Tad is clearly irritated at the sight, then again when isn’t he irritated?

  “I’m trying to break her,” Lizbeth whispers as if keeping the news from the baby.

  “Mommy!” Beau tugs at her shirt. “I thirsty, too! Beau wants snack!” Misty kicks him in the head, and the wailing ensues.

  “I’m sorry, Tad, but I’ve got to get to the store with Gage and Skyla.” She plucks Misty from her top and tries to hand her off, but Tad makes a break for the door himself.

  “Sorry, Tits, I gotta see some people about some things.”

  I warm Skyla’s bare arm with my hand. Did he just call her Tits?

  Skyla makes a face. I’m pretty sure it was Toots. Or at least that’s what I’m choosing to believe. Sometimes, you need a delusion just to get by.

  “What people about what things?” Lizbeth’s own irritation grows.

  “I’ve got a meeting at Althorpe!” And with that, we hear the slam of the door.

  “I’ll watch Beau,” Mia offers.

  “Great!” Lizbeth tosses a few things into her oversized diaper bag, and Skyla watches with careful attention as if taking notes. She looks worried, afraid, as Lizbeth mules up with her bag and the car seat, so I offer to take both from her. “We’ll take the minivan, if that’s okay. Gage, can you drive if you don’t mind?” Lizbeth has a way of singing every single sentence. She really does live in a bubble of joy, despite being married to Tad.

  “I don’t mind one bit.”

  * * *

  We head out to Cost Club with Skyla sitting up front next to me and Lizbeth chatting all the way there about bloody cracked nipples, stretch marks, and the extreme importance of orgasms.

  I offered to stop off at the Pancake House, but Skyla cut the air with her hand, her shirt firmly planted over her mouth letting me know that was a no-go.

  “Not many people know this fact”—Lizbeth continues as we each get our separate carts—“but a female orgasm is very beneficial with helping to implant the baby.” She waves me off. “Sorry, Gage, but, let’s face it, you win at that game every time. This is Skyla’s time to shine.”

  “Kill
me,” Skyla whispers just under her breath.

  “Anyway, you’re well past the implanting phase. The next trimester is going to be a breeze.” She straps Misty in a blanket-like contraption that swaddles the entire front of the cart into a baby fun zone before taking off. “Text me when you’re ready!” And with that, she takes off inside.

  Skyla latches on to my arm. “Wait, don’t we need her to get in?”

  “Not anymore.” I pull out the credit card my dad gifted me. “It’s an expense account for the morgue, and I’m on it.” In truth, I think this was my father’s way of lending us a helping hand. He said it was okay for personal use in case of an emergency, or my mother’s grocery requests, which this happens to be.

  Skyla turns and catches her reflection in the oversized window to the tire department. “Ha!” A laugh bottlenecks in her throat. “Would you look at that? It looks as if I have two baby bumps—one in the front and one in the back! I look ridiculous.” She gives her bottom a quick shake and giggles. “I love that funhouse mirror effect.” She glances over at my reflection, and the smile glides right off her face. “Um—I was sort of expecting to find you short and stalky, or in the least have your features stretched like taffy, but they’re not. You look suspiciously like yourself.” She walks me back and forth, still inspecting our reflections, and the horror grows on her face.

  “Oh my shit.” She buries her face in my chest, and I’m quick to offer a consolatory pat on the back. “My ass is growing in girth and width!”

  “It’s not that bad,” I whisper.

  “Wrong words,” she buzzes against my chest.

  “You look perfect.”

  “That’s better.” She looks up with her face blotched with heat. “Although really it’s not.”

  “You’re cute as hell.” I give her a pat on the ass, and she giggles with delight, back to her usual self.

  We head inside, and Skyla tugs and points us toward an aisle infiltrated with baby formula, oversized boxes of diapers, plastic cups in a rainbow of colors, and mystery boxes filled with medicinal looking things. The entire vicinity smells nice, baby fresh, and for some reason, everything about this aisle is beginning to scare me.