The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  His brows twitch at the sight. “It seems you are suddenly a very wealthy woman.”

  Lex leans over and balks at it. “The government will take like half.”

  “Is that true?” Nev’s mouth falls open. He looks as if he’s about to faint.

  “Sure is,” Gage muses as he checks out the Gas Lab Earnings Report. “Not quite half, but it’s a shame to lose any.”

  Ezrina groans. “These are truly the best of times and the worst of times.” She seems pleased with her quasi-literary reference. “It’s simply your fair share of the Gas Lab. It’s your initial investment, plus profit. We thought the two of you could use it with the expanding family.”

  Wow. It never ceases to amaze me when Ezrina manages to string together entire sentences. All that time in the Transfer had hardened her to the point of refusing to speak to anyone with the exception of utilizing the fine gift of brevity. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to talk to a bunch of bossy Counts who kept filling my shop of horrors with corpses either.

  “Not if you 1031 exchange it,” Logan offers. “If it’s a part of your business, then you have the right to identify another property and exchange it for investment purposes. It could even be a home for the two of you.” He looks pleased with his non-ubiquitous bit of legal advice.

  “Yes.” Marshall cinches a wry smile as if he’s in on some big joke and is about to deliver the punch line. “In fact, I spied a For Sale sign on that choice property next door to your in-laws. It’s as if the planets and the stars have aligned for the two of you.” He gives an obnoxious smirk. “Shall I phone the realtor?”

  “God, no,” I hiss so fast Nevermore blesses me.

  “We’ll, I’m off.” Marshall stands and dusts his trousers as if shaking the debris of this conversation off him, sort of like I’d like to do—the housing portion of it at least. “I’ve a very important meeting with one Lizbeth Landon.” He offers a quick wink my way. “She’ll be responsible for the festivities taking place at my humble abode in two weeks’ time. I assume you’ll all be there.” He glowers at Logan. “Some of you never seem to leave.”

  “Wait for me.” I get up and offer both Nev and Ezrina a brief hug. “I can never accept this, but the gesture is very kind.”

  They look mystified by my response.

  Nevermore shakes his head. “I’m afraid we won’t take no for an answer.”

  “We’ll deal with Gage,” Ezrina assures him.

  I look to my handsome husband. “I’m off to get this nightmare with my mother over with. Wish me luck!”

  He closes his eyes a moment. Gage would love to come with me, only he’s not welcome for the most part, and actually, he might hurt my case since he’s the sole reason my head is on the chopping block.

  “Be careful.” He offers a brief kiss.

  Logan raises his gaze to mine, speaking to me with simply just one look. It says don’t forget what you’ve done, Skyla—what we’ve both done. Don’t make this worse.

  Too late, I want to tell him. We’ve already made everything a thousand times worse than we could ever imagine.

  Marshall and I step out of the Gas Lab and into the pouring rain.

  “Anxious to see your mother, are you?” He extends his elbow, and I hook my arm through it.

  “Yes. Just not that mother.”

  Ahava forms around us, crystalline and clean. The scent of gardenia perfumes the air. Candace Messenger rises from her seat in the middle of the lake and glides over the water to greet us as if it were concrete beneath her feet.

  Odd. She seems happy to have me here. If I didn’t know better, I’d say downright jovial.

  “What’s with the new attitude?” I whisper to Marshall. Usually, she’s a little slower to warm to the idea of seeing my smiling face. She’s not this cheery unless Logan is around. He’s not around, is he? I give a quick glance at the expansive clearing, and a figure emerges from the distance, moving forward at an inhuman clip. A wave of elation fills me, and instantly, my belly glows a swirling sea of cobalt.

  “Logan?” We just left him at the Gas Lab. He didn’t mention coming to Ahava—unless, of course, this isn’t the version we left behind. “Oh my God, Logan!” I run over and give a little jump onto his leg. Initially, the thinner me would have hurled myself clear onto his hips and let him spin me as we gave way to a wild embrace, but this new version—clumsier, much, much bigger—can only pull off something akin to dry humping him.

  “Skyla.” He gives a hard sniff to my neck before pecking a kiss over my cheek. He pulls back and takes me in. “Wow. Motherhood becomes you.” He places his hand over the indigo glow emitting from beneath my shirt.

  “I miss you like crazy, and yet, we’re together nearly all the time.” I’m not sure how that statement works. It just does. Logan—the one on Paragon—is in a Treble, a tiny slice of time just after he gets back—so, technically, it’s the future version of himself, although he’s zapped of any memories that might spoil things in the interim. This version, the completely deceased version, is buying time in paradise until my mother sees fit to gift him the rest of his unfinished life—but that would mean Gage has to go, and, well, it’s all one big bloody mess.

  “I miss you, too, but I trust I’m doing a good job of getting in your hair.” He gives one of my curls a gentle tug. “I couldn’t stay out of it if I tried.”

  There’s a fire in his eyes, a passion minus the absolute agony the one on Earth coats his loving gaze with. It’s as if this version has made peace with the fact we’ll be reunited if and when the time is right—or not.

  My stomach knots up because, well, the version on Earth and I are working diligently to make sure that isn’t going to happen.

  “Does she know why she’s here?” he asks my mother who is busy conversing in private with my favorite Sector.

  “I was just about to tell her.” She nods to Marshall as if she’s just filled him in. “Skyla, dear.” She swoops over and takes up both of my hands. Hand holding? Funny, the last time I was here, we left off on less than amicable terms.

  “That’s right.” She shakes her head as if that very moment were to blame for what comes next. “That very moment is to blame for what comes next.” She closes her eyes, and the light dims around me just a touch. My mother has the clearest blue eyes, an exact representation of my own. “The curse you put on me—the only agony I could ever feel would be strictly related to you or your children. The only thing that would truly bring me agony is the untimely death of any of you.”

  “No.” I shake my head. I don’t like what she’s implying. “I didn’t do this. I didn’t curse you. I was just making a statement.” I rush to Marshall and shake him. “I didn’t do this. I didn’t mean to kill my baby!”

  He shakes his head, but, before he can answer, my mother cuts him off.

  “Statement, curse—potato, pota-toh.” She averts her eyes as if it were irrelevant. “My heart did break when you lost one of those precious beings taking up residence in your womb. But, not to worry, she’s with me now in paradise. My heart has fully mended.”

  “She? I had a girl?” I don’t know why this suddenly shocks me. I’m convinced they were all female in my belly. “Where is she? Can I hold her?” My heart drums so fast its echo deafens me.

  “Of course.” My mother looks amused that I would even ask. “As soon as she came home, I took her under my wing.”

  My stomach clenches because I’m not sure what the effects of that might be. What happens to a person when Candace Messenger actually raises them? For some reason, Chloe comes to mind.

  I turn to Logan. “Have you seen her?”

  “Yes.” His amber eyes warm at the thought of her. “She’s beautiful, and sweet, just like her mother.” He brushes his finger over my cheek. His eternal flame burns straight down into the deepest chamber of my heart.

  Candace gives a little clap. “Come now, child. Your mother is here!” she says it in a sing-song fashion much like my earthly mother wou
ld do.

  A little girl skips out from the clearing, four or five years old, and clutches on to my mother’s leg, peering out from around the trunk of her thigh to inspect me. Her long hair runs down her back like a silken ebony river. Her eyes burn with a curious intensity, the same hue as the deepest part of the ocean. Her full ruby lips give the hint of a trembling smile, and two deep-welled dimples dig into either one of her cheeks.

  Dear God Almighty, I have melted.

  Marshall wraps his arm around me as if to steady me. “She truly is beautiful, Ms. Messenger,” he whispers.

  Beautiful is an understatement, but this can’t be my child. Then I see a whisper of myself in her features, same nose, same bowtie lips, the outline of our features are one in the same.

  My mother pets the little girl’s ebony waves. “I’ve named her Luzy with Z.” It sounds almost identical to Lucy. “It’s a very soft Z—Luzy. Go ahead, try it.”

  My mouth falls open. “You can’t name her Luzy. There is no such thing as a soft Z.” I drop to my knees and coax the sweet angel to come to me. My heart tries to pound its way out of my body, demanding to touch her itself.

  “Are you sure this is her?” There is no denying that face, those eyes. I’ve seen them both before. In an irony that only genetics can provide, she is the exact representation of her father as well. Standing before me is a perfect combination of both Gage and me. Here she is, the sleeping serpentine butterfly from Emily’s haunted graffiti. Tears blur my vision as my entire body trembles for her touch. “She’s a bit older, isn’t she?” My fingers beckon, but she’s not budging from the safety of my mother’s limbs.

  “Good grief, Skyla. She’s five.” Candace takes the little girl by the hand and walks her around to the front of her person so I can take her in fully. “I have no patience for infants. You cured me of that. I’ll keep her this way until she catches up, and then I’ll let her progress in human years. The form ceases to age once it reaches perfection, about thirty-three your time. Though she won’t be issued a true body until the last day, you can still touch her—feel her. Go ahead, Luzy. Go to your mother so she can hold you.”

  The little girl gives a shy smile before plodding over, arms open wide, leaping right at me as if we’ve rehearsed this on a daily basis.

  Time stills. It stops its beating heart as tears stream down my cheeks, watering this child with all of my love, with the very nexus of my grief.

  “My God.” I sob into her heavenly soft hair that holds the scent of honeysuckle. My cheek warms to her preciously soft skin as my tears continue to rain down over her. I pull back and look into her stunning eyes, so heartbreakingly familiar. “You look just like your daddy.”

  “A man named Gage is my daddy.” Her words come out soft and sweet as the hum of an angel, but there’s a stillness about her, a knowing that runs deep. It’s anything but childlike.

  “Yes.” I swallow hard, hitching her hair behind her ear. “That’s exactly who your daddy is. Would you like to meet him?” My gaze gets lost in those cobalt spheres of hers. I’ll never look at Gage’s eyes the same after this.

  She nods eagerly. “Very much so. Your Grace, Candace, has told me that he shall come to live with me soon. And I will have him all to myself for many, many years while you live far away.”

  I take in a quick breath. Who knew her words would be the sharpest blade to my heart?

  “No.” I pull her in tight, her tiny frame conforming unnaturally to mine. “I want to live with you, too.” It comes out a combination of a sob and a whine. It’s heartbreaking to think I’ve done this to my own child. A thought comes to me, and I spring to my feet. My hand secures over her tiny fingers, and I don’t plan on letting go.

  “I’m taking her back,” I warble as I wipe the tears away.

  “Skyla.” My mother scoffs at my proclamation. “She’s perished. It’s done. This child will wait for you. Consider her a gift at the end of your life—sort of like a reward. I’ll keep her plenty safe, and once her father arrives, the two will be inseparable.

  “No.” A ripe anguish rips through me, so powerful and painful it might land me in Ahava before too long myself. I drop to my knees once again without thinking. “Please.” My chest bucks as a fire of grief consumes me. “I beg of you. Let me have my daughter back.”

  “Rise, child.” My mother’s voice is heavy and without mercy. “I’ve had enough of the dramatics. We won’t go down that beaten path. She must remain, and you must keep from curses.”

  A silent sob runs through me as I latch on to her little frame. My face gets buried in her hair as I wash it with my tears—mother’s tears, and this separation is a mother’s greatest anguish. I couldn’t care less if I were making a scene, embarrassing myself or my mother with my “dramatics.” I can’t bear it. I’ve done this. I’ve brought us to this painful place, and the price is simply too damn high.

  Marshall pulls me to my feet. Logan takes my daughter’s hand and pulls me in as well. It feels safe with him holding her, holding me.

  “I’m taking her.” I sniff hard and give a curt nod to my mother as if it meant anything. “I’ve already changed one circumstance on Earth that entailed death, and I plan on doing so again.”

  My mother’s features go slack. That soft, loving gaze from a moment ago is quickly replaced with a hardened gaze as outright anger pours from her being.

  “Yes.” She takes a step forward. “You did change a circumstance, didn’t you?” She isn’t amused. “Taking life away, giving it back—do you think you’re God, Skyla?” Her lips cinch in that sarcastic manner they seem to do just before she lowers the boom. I didn’t grow up with this mother, but I sure as hell know when I’m about to get crushed by her.

  “No, not God. I’m powerful, though, powerful enough to have finally figured out that I don’t need to adhere to a bunch of silly rules.” My heart thumps wildly in protest. “If I have the power to bring my daughter back, then that’s what I’m going to do. Any other mother on the planet would do the same.” I turn to leave with this precious baby girl’s limp hand still in my grip, and an invisible force spins me back around.

  “I’m not ready for you to leave, Skyla.” My mother’s eyes light up like boiling white flames. “Come.” She holds out her hand, and my daughter breaks my iron hold and appears by my mother’s side in one heartbreaking leap. “She cannot go with you. It’s not ordained. As for your dance with Mr. Travers’ death, I won’t charge you with the grievance since your state of being as the mother of two incubating Fems—half-breeds, as they may be—seem to have induced a psychological haze. Do not, and I repeat do not navigate your way around a corpse that way ever again, Skyla. It’s a life for a life, and the life that is called to exit the human plane just might be yours. As for Luzy, there will be no such exchange. She stays. I claim her. She is mine.”

  There you have it. She claims her. What my mother wants, my mother gets. Her rules. Her way. Her damn universe.

  “Not true, Skyla. Although, considering the circumstances, I’ll forgive you of the emotional outburst. Luzy stays. Your acceptance of the situation is neither here nor there.”

  “I see.” My gaze falls to the ground, defeated. I won’t have her. I never will—at least not during my planetary stay on Earth. “In the least, let me name her. Luzy just doesn’t seem to fit.” I bite down over my lip, struggling not to crumble.

  “Very well.” My mother softens, and why wouldn’t she? She’s getting her way. “I heard that.”

  I was hoping.

  My focus shifts to the black-haired beauty in front of me once again. Names. God, I haven’t even thought of names. What was that name Brielle was going to give to Beau if he was a girl? Calliope? Yes, that’s right, and Lie was going to be her nickname. No, wait, I can’t do that to a child, let alone my own. Another conversation I had with Bree at the Gas Lab bounces through my mind. The ship name! “Sage.” A rush of heat pulses through me as I say it for the very first time. I bow to her. “It’s my na
me and your daddy’s put together. It’s beautiful like you. It’s special like you, too—a symbol of how much we love you.”

  “It rhymes with Gage,” she says without any real emotion before nodding. “That’s my name. Sage—I like it.”

  “I’m so glad.” I launch forward and pull her into another tight embrace. I don’t ever want to let her go.

  My arms go limp, and just like that, she’s gone.

  “I’m not one for long, drawn-out goodbyes.” My mother waves her fingers through the air. “She’s with your father—who actually allows her to call him Grandpa. Can you believe that? I suggested Your Grace, but Nathan wouldn’t hear of it.”

  My chest rattles with both grief and elation. “That’s because he’s down-to-earth, mostly. Thank you. I’m glad she’s with him.” A thought comes to me regarding the Justice Alliance, and I struggle to banish it. If my mother’s forgotten all about that good time, then I highly recommend I do, too. I swat the air in front of me as trying to get the stench of the idea to dissipate.

  “I’ve not forgotten. I’ve simply postponed. I’ve decided that your visit with your child should remain pure. No faction business allowed.”

  “Sounds good to me. Besides, I’m sure Sage wouldn’t appreciate the idea that her mother is temporarily banished from her overseer duties simply because she’s married to her father.” And why can’t I keep my mouth shut and well enough alone? “Something good has come from our union. Sage’s very being should invalidate all of the charges against me.”

  She lifts her chin as if considering this a moment. “Only a true rebellion that consists of the majority can invalidate the Justice Alliance in this matter, Skyla.” She gives the slightest wink, and something enlivens in my heart. My mother just threw me a celestial bone, and I’m running with it. “Besides, you haven’t been temporarily banished as the overseer. You’ve been expelled.”

  My heart drops. I fought a damn war for that role.

  “As for you,” she snarls at Marshall, “I’ve never seen a Sector more aloof, or dare I say, cowardly?”