The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  “Skyla.” Marshall takes ahold of my arm and—oh my shit.

  “Where is it?” I snap, looking into his blood boils for eyes. “I am not amused. Do not fuck with me. This is painful, Marshall. More so than anyone with a penis will ever comprehend. Now get those oh-so-happy vibrations happening, and let the good times roll!”

  Liam ticks his head back an inch. “Is that code for I’m really having the babies?”

  “No,” Logan flatlines. “The code for that was in the puddle she left near the counter. Can you get Ellis on that?”

  “Sure thing.” He offers me a quick pat to the arm. “Congratulations, little mama. I’ll get on the horn and contact Emma and Barron. I’ll call your family, too. It’s time to get this party started!” He lets out a barking howl before heading back into the bowling alley.

  “No, wait!” I squeeze my eyes shut as another contraction comes on, far more vicious than the last. I was about to tell him to stop, to please refrain from alerting the cavalry. The last thing I want is my family, worse, Emma breathing down my neck for the next fifteen hours while I try to figure out a way to escape my body.

  Marshall and Logan usher me to his truck—and, through a Sector-based miracle, Marshall hoists me into the passenger’s seat.

  “Where is it?” I moan, not willing to let go of his big, strong hand. “Where are your feel-good vibes?”

  “Skyla”—he leans in so close his breath tickles my cheek—“it appears someone has decided that my ‘feel-good vibes,’ as you say, would be inappropriate in this situation.” He gives a quick glance upward.

  “Oh my God!” I scream the words until my throat shreds raw. “Mother!” My voice shrills into the stubborn iron sky, but not even the clouds bother to part for me.

  “I’ll be with you,” he assures.

  “Oh no, you won’t! Go to her and plead, plead, plead!” I sob out that last word. “And don’t come back without your powers.” I cup his cheeks and pull him in. “This is a direct order from your leader.”

  He gives a crooked grin. “You are not my leader, Ms. Messenger.”

  “Then it’s a very heartfelt request from your future wife.”

  “Now that’s something I can work with.” He presses a tender kiss to my cheek. “Be strong. I’ll be back.”

  “Spoken like a true terminator of my hope.” I sag into the seat as he dissipates. “My mother isn’t going to give an inch.” Another contraction comes, and I breathe my way through it just the way my earthly mother taught me. Lizbeth Landon would never withhold anything from me, let alone feel-good vibes in my most desolate hour. A brief visual of my mother spending countless hours attempting to brainwash me into going “natural,” feeling every little morsel of love that nature is willing to gift me comes back to mind, and I quickly eschew the thought of venerating my earthly, slightly sadistic mother.

  The pain knifes through me, with its white-hot razor’s edge, sawing me in half, burning me to my core with an intense level of agony no human should ever have to endure. It’s horrible. Unthinkable. Completely sadistic. Pain to end all pain. Chloe was right. I would never wish this on my worst enemy. My breathing hits a crescendo. Thank God Almighty I was halfway paying attention during all those breathing lessons because, holy wow, this feels like a belt of fire just cinched around my swollen belly. Then, as if on cue, my entire abdomen lights up blue like a Christmas tree.

  “No, no, no,” I moan as Logan dodges through traffic fast enough to get us both killed, well, me and my anxious-to-get-here children. “Maybe you should slow down.”

  He hangs a hard left. “No need.” He slips into a parking stall and expels a toothy grin. “We’re here.” His gaze drops to my stomach, which is busy bulging like an overgrown sapphire. “Oh shit.” His voice spikes. “Can you turn it off?”

  “Don’t you think I would have done that by now?”

  “Okay, okay, we got this.” His hands fly to his temples because we so do not got this. “I’ll call Dr. Booth.” He gets on the phone.

  “He’s a psychiatrist. The human brain and my vagina are on two very different playing fields.”

  “Yes—hello?” he barks into the phone. “Skyla is in labor. She’s—her stomach is glowing like a blue fucking moon. Is there any way to get ahold of a doctor who happens to be one of us?”

  Why didn’t I think of this? And much, much sooner, might I add.

  “Great.” His face irons out with relief. “We’ll wait.” He hangs up much to my horror.

  “We will not wait, Logan! You and I might decide to wait, but these babies are currently trying to squeeze their way out of my uterus. I’ve got news for you, Oliver. Nobody in there wants to wait.”

  A quiet smile presses from his lips as if it took great effort on his part. “He said there’s a board for this. He’s having a doctor summoned as we speak. As soon as he calls, we’ll head on in.”

  A severe flashback of Chloe giving birth in the woods comes to me. I can’t usher these babies into the world in the cab of Logan’s pickup. This is insanity!

  “Call Gage.” Just the thought of talking to Gage sends a mild sense of relief through me.

  “Gage?” He looks momentarily confused as if he has no idea who this Gage person might be. “Gage!” Logan’s phone slips from his grip a moment until his fingers swipe the surface. “He’s not picking up.” He shoots him a text and flashes it to me before he hits Send.

  “Great.” I close my eyes. “The one time I desperately need him, and his phone is who knows where.”

  A sharp knock emits over my window, and we glance over to find a handsome, dark-haired man whom I wish to God would morph into my husband.

  Logan rolls down the window to a grimacing Dr. Booth.

  “I was in the area.” He winces at me. “I’d ask how you were feeling, but I can see that you’re blue.”

  “Please, no psychiatric humor.” Although, it did add a bit of levity to the situation.

  “There’s a nurse named Allegra on duty. She’s a Deorsum. I explained the situation, and she’s ready to greet you. In the meantime”—he passes a navy blanket through the window—“I keep this in my car for emergencies. This, I suspect, is one of them.”

  After a tussle with my seatbelt, both Dr. Booth and Logan help extract me from the truck and to the door of this dreaded medical architectural wonder. The large, dirty mind you, glass doors whoosh open, and a blast of ghastly hospital breath overcomes me.

  “Why does it always smell like ketchup and rubbing alcohol in these kinds of places?” I retch without meaning to.

  Dr. Booth gives a quiet smile. “Because it needs to be regularly disinfected, and the hamburgers are better than you’d think.”

  Another contraction hits, and I breathe in and out like I’m desperately trying to blow out the last candle on my nonexistent birthday cake. The idea of a smile comes to me as the pain begins to subside.

  “I just thought of something,” I pant. “I’m going to have these babies on my birthday!”

  “Babies?” Dr. Booth chortles a small laugh as he helps me into the elevator.

  “Surprise.” I give a lame smile. So much for keeping it a secret, although, soon enough, the entire world will know.

  “You could have them on Gage’s birthday.” Logan shrugs. “But that’s like ten hours away.”

  “No thank you. The sooner these babies and their happy feet exit my womb, the better. I can’t handle a contraction stronger than that last one.”

  We exit onto the labor and delivery floor, and Dr. Booth escorts us past the security doors marked for expectant parents and staff only.

  “Allegra.” Dr. Booth flags down a tall, waif-like nurse with a face that vaguely reminds me of Ellis. I’ve always suspected he’d make a decent looking girl.

  I take the fact that the nurse standing before me is named after a popular medication as a very good sign of pharmaceutical things to come. We follow her through the bowels of the labor and delivery unit, amongst the unmis
takable shrieks, the screams, the primal calls for help. The moaning, the groaning, the drumming of robotic machinery—it all has a bit of a human torture chamber effect. The smells, the unholy sights and sounds remind me a little too much of Tenebrous—back when the Counts still held the keys. The unit itself is cold and sterile, with its neutral walls, laminated counters. There’s a giant white board in the back with patients’ names jotted down like a human grocery list.

  Nurse Allegra helps me to a room and hands me a gown to put on—open in the front. Dr. Booth offers a gentle side-hug before leaving, and soon it’s just Logan and I—a yellow worn-out gown taking up the distance between us. Tears come, and I begin to silently sob.

  “It’s okay.” He rubs my back. “You’re here, safe. We made it.” His heated, tender breath strums over my neck. “There’s nothing else to do but relax and bring those babies into this world.”

  The warmth of his cologne envelops me like an old friend, and I linger in that scent that’s shared so many memories with us.

  “That’s not why I’m crying. I can’t take off my dress.” Okay, that was so why I’m crying, but admitting to it would have only made things worse. And where the hell is Gage?

  Logan helps with the task of stripping me down.

  “Please don’t laugh,” I whisper as he plucks off my shoes. My feet are so swollen he actually grunts before taking off the left one.

  “I would never laugh at you. I think you’re beautiful.” He inches up my dress, and his lips twist as it bunches around my belly. “How exactly did you get this on?”

  “I had gravity working in my favor.” I lift my arms. “Let’s see if physics can help me out of this one.”

  Logan tugs, and tugs, and tugs before it finally suctions off my body, allowing the air in the room to cool me.

  “Ah, that’s better,” I coo, opening my eyes to a startled Oliver.

  “You’re magnificent,” he says with his eyes glued to my extended navel.

  “Gah!” I cry as soon as I spot my granny panties, the size of a hot air balloon. “I’m so embarrassed.” Please, God, kill me now.

  “Don’t be.” Logan lovingly places the gown over me, and I pull my arms through it.

  He gives a few tugs to my underwear, and I help shimmy them off.

  “There. You’re ready to party.” He helps me climb onto the bed, and the nurse comes in, hooking me up to a myriad of beeping, burping machines. She wraps a Velcro band over my belly like she’s strapping me to a bomb, and then, right on cue, a contraction kicks in.

  “Look at that climb,” she says admirably while pointing to the monitor. “Yes sirree, Bob! This is going to be a big one!”

  “I need drugs.” I press the words out through panting. My hand clasps onto Logan’s so hard I squeeze him to the bone. “Where the hell is Harrison?” My voice hits its pinnacle right along with my contraction.

  “Skyla.” Logan does that thing with his brows—the one where he so desperately wants to communicate his disappointment with me. “I promise, I’m not disappointed. Ellis can’t give you anything.”

  “That reefer field of his begs to differ!”

  A smile tugs at his lips, but he refuses to give it. “I won’t let him.”

  The nurse averts her gaze. “I guess whenever you’re ready, I’ll contact the anesthesiologist.”

  What’s with the attitude?

  The door flies open, and, like a human piñata, in spills every single familiar face I’ve ever seen. Mom tags me first like it’s some playground game both she and Emma were engaged in. Mia and Melissa quickly pull up a chair facing my privates as if they don’t want to miss a minute of The Rocky Horror Vagina Show. Drake and Bree brought snacks that smell like stewed feet, and Ethan and Em showed up with matching looks of mild boredom. Tad and Barron hold up the rear, hardly able to squeeze into the tiny space. Tad has both Beau and Misty attached to him, a first as far as I know, and Barron is sporting a rather large camera with a lens as long as a baseball bat.

  “Whoa.” My legs clench at the thought of me having to entertain everyone in here by way of opening wide. “I’m fine. I’ve got this. And where are Ellis and Giselle?” They’re the only ones I truly want to punish with my prenatal peep show.

  Emma pats my hand. “In the gift shop, buying some balloons to surprise you with.”

  It’s hard not to roll my eyes at my mother-in-law routinely.

  “More importantly”—she leans in a with a stern look that frightens me just a little—“where is my son?”

  “That’s what I would like to know.”

  “Did you call him?” Her eyes widen as she spots Logan’s fingers interlaced with mine, and she gasps as if she were affronted.

  “We can’t get ahold of him,” Logan offers. “Would the two of you go check out his usual haunts? He needs to be here. His phone is probably dead.”

  Emma and Barron scuttle out in a flurry of flailing arms and shouting. I think I actually heard Barron curse at his only son and his “idiotic phone.” It’s clear they want Gage here as much as I do. I’ll be the first to say this is ridiculous. Gage, who never missed a single doctor’s appointment, would die before he missed the birth of his children. Gah! God, what if he’s dead? He had better be dead. I’m quick to evict the thought from my mind.

  “You’re getting another one!” Mom belts it out with the enthusiasm of a World Series umpire. This is the big leagues—her playing the field, and, judging by that look in her eyes, she plans on running a play-by-play.

  “Nurse!” I scream with everything in me, as the dough-faced girl appears without incident, ready and waiting for duty. For once, something in my life seems to be on track. “Go ahead and call the anesthesiologist. I’m more than ready to have my entire body, every hair on my head numbed to oblivion.” I squint into the blinding pain that’s overtaking my body. This one is a far cry from the last few, and those were steadily more significant than the ones prior. “Oh God.”

  “Don’t hold your breath!” Mom sounds off like a drill sergeant. “Breathe the damn thing out, Skyla.” She pants right along with me, and I ride that thorny wave until I see the needle on the monitor mercifully decline.

  Holy mother of God.

  “Okay.” I can hardly catch my breath. “I’ll need to see him quick,” I pant to the nurse who seems mesmerized by all the bells and whistles attached to me.

  “You will not!” My mother gives a dark laugh. “No grandchild of mine will be brought into this world, sleepy and weak from narcotics. We expect a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed bright pink bundle of joy, not an infant with the shakes and a glazed look in its eye.”

  Holy shit. Is she for real?

  “All newborns have a glazed look in their eyes!” I shout so loud my voice rubs raw. “Bree!” It’s clearly time to call in the reserves.

  “I’m so proud of you!” Brielle skips over as if I’ve done something worthy of her praise. “You two are going to make great parents.” Tears glisten in her eyes. Her face is flushed with a genuine sentimentality that has me questioning if she’s chemically altered herself. Hey, maybe Bree brought the drugs.

  “This isn’t Gage,” I say sweetly. “We can’t find him.”

  “I know, but Logan is just as good. At this point, they’re practically interchangeable.”

  Logan’s brows rise in amusement.

  “Would you stop?” I scold. This is no time for Bree and her ditzy ways.

  The monitor burps, and Mom gives a hard clap. “This is the big one!”

  Oh God! Not the big one!

  Tad hustles over and inspects the screen, and just the sight of him annoys the ever-living shit out of me. Too bad it couldn’t annoy two babies out of me a little quicker. And why the hell is everyone in this very room? I begin on my breathing, following the rhythm of my mother’s—who has managed to embarrass me freshly in front of Logan in ways I never thought possible. Her eyes are enlarged, her mouth puffing in and out like a blowfish. Her arms flap like wings, an
d dear Lord, am I supposed to do that, too?

  Then, in an instant, the pain ratchets up to alarming new heights, sharp, piercing, blazing-hot agony that paralyzes me from any further panting—hell, it just extinguished any desire in me to ever breathe again.

  “Kill me,” I mouth to Logan. Kill me right fucking now! I scream internally.

  “Do something,” he barks at the nurse who continues to stand by like a wooden soldier, simply studying the graph that stupid machine spits out. How dare she! As soon as Dr. Booth hears about this, her Deorsum ass is fired. I’m canceling her membership to Nephilims United—revoking her powers as soon I can. I’ll make sure she gets one hell of a vacation in the tunnels for a good long while, right after I encourage Ingram to make her his boneyard bitch.

  “Would you like medication?” She nods to me with a blank stare as if this were a topic we hadn’t broached before.

  “Yes.” My voice comes from me deep, unrecognizable as if a demon had stepped in to answer for me, and nurse Allegra scuttles out the door. “Thank you!” I squeak as my bodily torture tones it down for a moment.

  “Skyla! You can’t have drugs. I won’t let you!” Mom spits it out, desperate. “Do that thing, Tad! The one that got me through the thick of it.”

  “Your wish is my rear’s command.” He lets one rip so loud and toxic the room clears out, save for Mom and Logan. Hell, I would have run far and fast had I been able.

  “Oh my fuck.” I sink a little on the mattress. I take it back. My mother is not the embarrassment. It’s Tad.

  “Make them leave—all of them,” I say it weak to Logan.

  “Skyla!” Mom sits on the edge of the bed and swiftly pulls back the covers until she’s cradling my bare feet in her hands. “If I leave, who’s going to do this?” She starts in on what I’m guessing was meant to be a massage, but ends in a tickle-torture routine that promptly initiates the mother of all contractions. I’d kick her into tomorrow, because both Logan and I know how lethal my feet can be—but my body is currently frozen. I’m holding my breath again, and Logan taps my lips lovingly and does the same with his until I’m fully focused on his beautiful whiskey-colored eyes.