The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  “No, excuse me.” She stalks off, waddling with her hands spread to her sides for balance.

  “Dude, don’t worry. She’s just—”

  Gage cuts me off, “Right. She’s right. I should have told her. Even if she wigged out in the beginning, at least I would have known where she stood. It’s just I didn’t want to stress her out, and I didn’t want to say no to my mom. She can throw a mean guilt trip when she has to.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Emma has lectured me profusely about how Skyla and I are right for one another and wanted explanation on how I could simply let Gage steal her away. It’s true. Emma isn’t a fan of Gage and Skyla. “What’s up with Liam?” I gesture over where the women of the party have gathered like pigeons, awaiting those magical breadcrumbs to fall out of his Levi’s.

  “You haven’t heard?” Gage leans in, so this has got to be good. “Last week, I caught him with both Lexy and Michelle. Dude, this guy is getting some heavy hitting threesome action.” His eyes are wild as if he doesn’t approve, and neither do I.

  “Shit.” I let out a sorrowful sigh. “I’ll talk to him.” I have before but to no avail. “Threesomes? With Miller and Bakova?” We glance over at the two of them openly scoffing at each other. “They don’t look too thrilled with the idea.”

  “I think it’s all in the name of competition. Liam is a hot commodity, and they’re doing what they feel they need to in order to snag the prize.”

  Kresley and her friend, Grayson, squeeze into their midst, and Michelle looks as if she’s a moment away from clawing everyone’s eyes out.

  “The competition just got a little stiffer.”

  Emma calls us all to the dining room, which is a little more crowded than usual with tables connecting with tables, à la the Landon family get-togethers. Skyla sits by my side, and Dudley flanks her on the other end. Gage simply takes a seat next to me and doesn’t flinch.

  “I’d like to make a toast,” I offer, holding up my glass, bidding the others to do the same. “If you didn’t know, Marshall Dudley came to Paragon several years ago to serve as a math teacher at West Paragon High. He saw some of us at this table through algebra, geometry, trig, and calc, but mostly, he saw us through our formative years, and along the way offered some well-needed guidance. For this reason, I say thank you. And for whatever reason, you have always exuded a familial bond toward me. It’s nice to know that even through distant relations we are just that, family. So with that, salute and thanks for the killer genes.” I give a quick wink.

  A round of cheers breaks out as we down our drinks. Dinner gets underway, and Skyla and Dudley begin discussing faction business, or lack thereof. Ellis leans in.

  “Any more names we need to discuss?” he whispers it low enough where no one beyond me can pick up on it.

  Skyla shakes her head and shrugs. “Let’s have a meeting tonight to regroup.”

  “I think we need to,” I agree.

  Coop glances up from his rack of lamb as if we’ve aroused his suspicion.

  “What’s going on?” Gage nudges me in the ribs. Both Skyla and I exchange glances. It’s not exactly a secret we’re keeping from him, except at the moment it’s obvious that it is.

  Skyla reaches under the table and touches my bare arm. Wow, and I was giving him crap over offering some skank a ride, three blocks in the rain? I feel like an asshole. I think we should come clean. You in?

  “Yes,” I whisper. “Great meal.” My hand taps over my stomach for show.

  “Nice.” Gage’s eyes glaze over, somewhere between anger and resentment. “But you haven’t touched your food. So, what’s the story?” He directs the question to Skyla, but all she’s able to do is open and close her mouth.

  “We’ll talk.” It sounds cryptic when she says it, and I almost feel sorry for the guy. He spends the rest of dinner moping by my side, half-afraid that Skyla already has a foot out the door.

  The rest of the meal ebbs by as Dudley regales us with story after story about our much-hyped highly diluted lineage. It occurs to me that somewhere down the line Marshall’s DNA has interbred with Celestra. Why not give him dominion then? Why is Skyla the key to all of these masterful planes? Candace pops through my mind like a bolt of celestially charged lightning, and a picture comes into focus. A chessboard where all of the pieces look oddly familiar—all of our faces carved into bluish gray stone. This is nothing more than a well-orchestrated game. They need her. They need Skyla’s special DNA to unlock whatever porthole leads to the next phase of celestial domination. Candace is the one that gifted Skyla this power. Put her in this unique position. I wonder what she gets out of it.

  After dinner, Emma has us playing a round of charades until things get pornographic with Liam’s coital circle. I want to shake my head at him, but a part of me wants to salute him. I miss sex. I miss sex with Skyla. I miss losing my mind, forgetting my name, what and who I was as my body readied to detonate inside her. I miss burying my face in her wild hair, in her wet heated slick that opened for me like a flower. I miss the smell of every inch of her body and wish I could wear it like perfume. I miss pressing my lips against her soft, very soft tits. The curve of her hip against mine. I miss the way her breathing quickened as she was about to lose her own mind from the way I was loving her.

  A hand waves over my face, and I look up to find Emma with her hand on her hip. “Somebody was completely out to lunch. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were love-struck.” She gives an obnoxious wink. “It’s your turn. You’ll need a partner. Kresley? You up for some fun?”

  “You bet!” She hops up and pulls a ticket from Emma’s straw hat. It reads bend over backwards.

  Great. I shoot Skyla a look that says I’m sorry before we ever begin, and, as expected, there is enough touching, feeling, squeezing, loving during that horrifically long ten minutes than my body will probably ever see again in my nonexistent life.

  * * *

  After midnight, Skyla calls a meeting of the Retribution League in the butterfly room at White Horse. There, at least she’s using it for something. It’s an exact replica of the original butterfly room at the Landon house, only about fifteen times the size. It’s dim inside, save for the bevy of sapphire-colored butterflies illuminating the darkness. It’s stunning, like a sky full of tiny angelic stars.

  Skyla requested that I set up a round table and about ten chairs. It’s the ten chairs part that has me worried since there are only four official members in the League as far as I know. It was a tight group with a laser focus, and now with more bodies to fill the seats, I’m afraid it’ll balloon into a beast sooner than I thought.

  “I don’t really have a head count,” Skyla says as she materializes into the room with Gage by her side. “So it’s a give or take ten seats. I thought that might bother you.” She pulls me into a quick embrace, her cheek searing over mine for a white-hot minute. I pray to God Gage doesn’t flip.

  I’m not sure if that was meant for me or not, but I nod in agreement. He won’t. Gage is an encourager when it comes to Skyla and the Nephilim. I’m sure they’ll hug it all out in a creative way later in bed. And I’m guessing with the size of her belly, they need to be very creative. An entire series of obscene images flash through my mind, and I swat them away.

  There’s a knock at the door, and Dudley shows, along with Ezrina and Nev, Laken and Coop, Ellis sans Giselle—thank God for small mercies—and Brody Bishop.

  “Exactly ten!” Skyla marvels. “Everything is so damn hard to do these days with my pregnant brain. Math was never my strong suit.”

  “What’s going on?” Laken asks as everyone finds a seat at the table. “We just saw you a few hours ago. This all feels kind of secret society,” she says while wiggling her fingers, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are we here to throw baby names into the hat?”

  “Nope.” Skyla’s features lose their softness, and she looks more like her mother than I’m sure she would ever want to. “You had it right the first time. Welcome to t
he Retribution League.”

  Gage cuts me a look that says what the hell, and I tilt my head toward Skyla. This is her baby. I’m going to let her roll with it.

  “The only members thus far are Ellis, Brody, Logan, and me.” She lowers her lashes as if confessing something dark and dirty. “I’m sorry I kept this from you, Gage. I don’t know why I did, but I thought since I was opening up to you, there were a few others I wanted to let in on this as well.” She casts a sweeping glance around the table. “I trust each of you not to say anything. Lives are at risk. I’m not too sure how the Justice Alliance would feel about this either.”

  “And that would be my cue to leave.” Marshall stands and gives a polite bow. “Enjoy the rest of your evening—early morning as it were. I’m afraid I value my proverbial wings far too much than to ever become an accomplice. The Justice Alliance isn’t nearly as lenient toward Sectors that go awry. You Nephilim can take up a fine-feathered friend, but we’re relegated to less savory creatures, and at that just a few particular parts.”

  “Like donkey balls?” Ellis leans in, his eyes glazed into tomorrow, bright red, and it’s not from a lack of sleep.

  “Yes.” Dudley has that look that says I would like to stone you myself. “Like donkey balls, Sir Harrison. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve research to do regarding the transference of my DNA. Ezrina and I will be conducting a few mundane experiments with you, Mr. Flanders.” He turns and gives me the stink eye. “Oliver.”

  I’m amused by his word choice. “How come he gets to be Mr. Flanders, and I’m simply Oliver?”

  “It’s better than Jock Strap,” Gage cuts in.

  “Far more respectful than The Pretty One,” Skyla adds.

  Dudley’s lids lower to the point it looks as if he’s sleepwalking. “Perhaps you prefer The Not Chosen One, the Dearly Departed One, The One that Embroils Ms. Messenger in Mortal and Spiritual Danger Time and Time Again.”

  Crap. The last thing I need is Dudley’s vengeance. “I prefer something that involves a bit more brevity.” And I can’t seem to let him win.

  “Very well.” His chin dips in an inch. “Dimwit or Ass. Take your pick.” He evaporates into the darkness, leaving his fiery eyes as the last to go.

  Laken shakes her head. “He’s not one to mess with, is he?” She turns to Skyla. “And if he’s not impressed with what’s about to go down—should we be?”

  Ezrina taps her nails, the color of dried blood, over the table. “End this misery.”

  “Excuse my lady love.” Nev gives her hand a quick pat. “It’s far past our bedtime, and Ezrina commands at least nine hours of shut-eye. You don’t want to meet up with her with anything less.” He gives her a sly wink, and her cheeks darken a shade. Flirting under the guise of an insult, huh? If I were Nev, I’d hide the cutlery.

  “I’ll make it short and sweet.” Skyla fans her fingers over the table, exasperated before she ever begins. “A few months back, Gage showed me a list of names that were on Wesley’s Immunity League. The fact Wes was teaming up with people from all walks of Nephilim life, all over the globe, made me insane with worry. And, well, I couldn’t just stand around while he trained the best of the best to destroy my people.” Her belly heats up a brilliant shade of blue, causing her face to glow a sickly hue, and yet, on Skyla, it looks magical, ethereal, and highlights those fairy-like qualities she’s always possessed.

  “What did you do with the people on the list?” Coop glances around at Brody and me as if he’s onto us.

  “The people have been missing for months.” Gage ticks his head. “Did your Retribution League do this?” His voice spikes with worry, and yet, I’d swear there was anger layered just beneath the surface.

  “We did.” She faces him fully, her eyes locked onto his. “Gage—I had to. Wesley had them programmed to illicit paranormal activity. They were sending the world into a tailspin. He was infusing them with more power than they rightly deserve.”

  Gage swallows hard as if he’s beyond worried and well into afraid. Why the hell is he acting so strange? I would have bet my donkey balls he was going to be the loudest in the cheering section.

  “What happened to the people on the list?” Laken carefully clutches onto Coop’s hand as if she needs it.

  “They’re somewhere safe.” Skyla looks from Laken to Gage. “They’re in Tenebrous.”

  “Shit.” Gage closes his eyes a moment. “I gotta go.” He rises from his seat.

  “No.” Skyla latches on to him, trying to pull him back down, but he takes a step back. “I have a meeting with the Videns. It can’t be missed.” Gage squeezes his eyes shut tight. “I don’t think I should hear any more of this, Skyla. I’ll see you at home. I’m sorry.” Gage takes off, leaving a void of silence in his wake.

  “What the hell was that about?” Ellis moans. “You two having a spat or some shit?”

  Brody sighs. “He said he shouldn’t hear any more. You think it’s for the same reason as Dudley?”

  Coop nods. “Only it’s the Justice Alliance he’s worried about. Is he a double agent?”

  “He has been before,” Ezrina points out.

  Nev juts his chin out in a bird-like manner. “May I ask who might be running the tunnels? Do you need catering services?”

  “We have it covered,” I offer. “Ingram’s signed on to help. But you can check with him as far as catering.”

  “Ingram.” Ezrina contorts her features. “One minute you think he’s on your side, and the next he’s ratted you out to the Justice Alliance.”

  Nev leans in toward her. “I believe he had a bigger bone to pick with the two of us.”

  “Not to mention he’s bound,” Skyla adds.

  It never occurred to us that Ingram would be trouble. Sloppy. Each time I forget to watch myself, I manage to put Skyla—everyone in this room, in a little more danger. And what about Gage? Is he the mole we really need to watch out for? Ezrina is right. He has been before. As far as I know, he hasn’t taken Demetri up on the offer and crossed that line—yet.

  “I can’t.” Laken rises. “You know what I did to shut those tunnels down.” Her voice is shaking. “It’s like you’re spitting in my face.” She plucks at Coop, and they head for the door.

  “Wait! I promise it’s not like that,” Skyla pleads. “These are the bad guys.”

  Laken pauses. “With us running the tunnels, we’re starting to feel a lot like the bad guys. I’m sorry, I just need to think about this.”

  She and Coop disappear down the stairwell.

  “Good night, all.” Nevermore hops to his feet. “I’ve an exhausted bride I’d best lay to rest.”

  “No rest for the wicked.” Ezrina gives him that strange wink once again, and they take off with her giggling like a schoolgirl as soon as they clear the threshold. At least romance is alive and well at White Horse, even if it is relegated to the basement.

  “That went well.” Skyla slumps over her belly.

  “Don’t feel bad.” I rub my hand over her back and feel the tension knotting up her shoulders. “The good news is that there are a hell of a lot less people out there putting the Nephilim in danger.”

  Brody gives a short-lived laugh. “They’re dispensable. Have you noticed the names stopped coming? Lexy says there aren’t any more meetings. She said the mass mutiny was bruising Wesley’s ego. He’s setting up something new, and you can bet your last green dollar that whatever it is, it’s ten times worse. Face it, we’ve run from a lion, only to meet up with a bear.”

  “We’re not giving up.” I offer Skyla’s shoulder a firm squeeze, and she moans into it as if that was just what she needed. “We’ll figure out what he’s up to and put that fire out as well.”

  “And how do we do that?” Ellis carries all the enthusiasm of a dental drilling.

  I’m pretty sure that I don’t know isn’t the answer anyone wants to hear, so I’ll keep quiet.

  “Emily,” Skyla says it calm. “I’ll ask her to help. Her visions are divine. The
y’re bound to tell me something.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll hear of it soon.” In fact, I know we will. We’ve pricked Wesley’s ego, proven that he can be infiltrated, discovered, stopped in his tracks. We’ve emasculated him both physically and spiritually, as Dudley would say, and I’m not too sure one is more efficient than the other. When your ego is the size of the island, either way it has to hurt.

  Ellis and Brody take off, and it’s just Skyla and I staring one another down.

  “You think we did the right thing, reopening Tenebrous?” Her voice is low and raspy as if she were trying to seduce me, but in reality, she’s so damned depressed you can see the regret pooling in her eyes.

  “Yes. It was the only thing we could do. They were murdering our people—about to cause a mass extinction for all we know. We had no other choice.”

  “What do you think Wes is going to do next?”

  I glance down at that enormous belly of hers, glowing like molten lava.

  “Are your powers still growing?”

  “As much as the rest of me. Why?”

  “I want to see if you have the gift of knowing.”

  Skyla’s mouth falls open as she glances down, her belly sparking like blades sharpening against flint. She clutches her stomach as her eyes set on some faraway place. “Logan,” she breathes my name. “I see it.”

  “What is it?”

  “Wesley, no,” she whispers as if speaking to him directly. The light in her belly goes out like the flipping of a switch as if she managed to drain it of all its power. Skyla looks up quick, worry rife on her face. “Oh my God, Logan.” Her clear eyes round out over mine. “We may have made dozens disappear, but Wesley has done something with thousands.”

  “What?” I’m not sure I can wrap my head around the idea. “I haven’t heard of thousands missing. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “All I know is they went willingly, and now they’re gone.”