The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  Tad grunts at the thought. “That’s not what you suggested a week ago when you said that battle-ax—and I’m quoting here—threatened to call child services if you tried to tuck one of Greg’s kids under your shirt one more time.”

  She slaps a hand over her mouth. “Let’s get you out of here before you get us banished from these children’s lives forever.” She tugs him to the door. “Emily has Misty and Beau. Rest when the babies sleep, Skyla!”

  I look into Barron’s bright eyes, blue as his father’s, and press a kiss to his ruby red lips.

  “Please sleep for Mommy today,” I whimper as he offers a quick wink. I jolt a little at the sight but quickly chalk it up to gas. I’d much rather he have gas than any Femtastic capabilities at this early stage of the game. I suppose, in a way, his Femtastic capabilities are inevitable. But that’s why I’m here—to ground my boys in all things celestially right.

  Emily and Ethan stroll in from the backyard sans one child.

  “Where’s Beau?” I ask in the event he was left to his own devices. God knows if he toddles into the woods, we may not see him for weeks.

  Em scowls as she hoists both Misty and Ember in her arms. “We pawned him off on his parents.”

  “Yeah.” Ethan laughs as he plucks a box of Twinkies from the cupboard. The Great Hostess Scare last summer had them stockpiling the confections, and, now that they’re back on the shelves, Ethan and Drake pop them like they were vitamins. “We had to formally introduce them. The way Drake was grunting under the covers was like he never heard of the kid before.”

  Gage and I exchange glances.

  “Dude.” Drake pauses the television, and a bare ass is frozen over the screen, seventy-two inches wide. Drake and his newfound fortune have technologically benefited our parents somewhat, although, apparently, not enough to leave poor Logan alone. “I’m right here.”

  Ethan bucks as if shocked to hell. “Then who’s that fucking your wife?”

  Drake shoots down to the mobile home, and Gage and I scoot to the porch, too afraid to run through the muck below with the babies in tow. When they said kids really slow you down, they weren’t kidding.

  Mia speeds out of Bree and Drake’s love shack with little Beau in hand. Her hair is doing its best impression of a haystack, and her shirt is on inside out with the tag licking the front of her face like a giant white tongue.

  “What the?” A glimpse of a man, clad in leather, dissolves into the forest behind the property. “Oh my God!” I shout with venom. “Take him.” I hand Barron to Gage and bolt barefoot down to my sister. “This is stat rape!” I shout into the woods as the fog braids itself through the trees. “You will not get away with this, Revelyn Booth!” I shake my fist in the air.

  “Would you”—Mia bats my hand down—“knock that off! You’re embarrassing me!”

  I shuttle Beau to his father. Clearly, Bree is nowhere to be found. The two lovebirds shacking up in the trailer were none other than my sister and the man far too old to bed her.

  “You have lost your ever-loving mind! What the hell are you thinking?” I give her shoulder a bone-clenching squeeze as I glare into my sister’s wild eyes. The idea of that womanizer taking advantage of my little sister makes me insane. “What if you get knocked up? Do you see those boys up there?” I point toward Gage with an armful of babies. “In the event you didn’t notice, twins run in the family, and you might even have triplets!” Like me, I want to say, but decide to leave Sage out of this.

  Mia’s eyes widen in horror. “I’m not having a baby—or ten or twelve. I’m not like you and Mom.” She gives a childlike wail. “I don’t even want a kid!”

  “Why are you with him, anyway? He’s too old for you!”

  Mia takes in the crowd amassing around us—Drake, Ethan, Em, and the girls, Gage above with Melissa, who’s just joined him, each of them holding a twin.

  “Gee, thanks for embarrassing me, Skyla!” The words smother from her thick with tears. “Is this what your first time was like, too?” She gives me a hard shove, and I fumble in the mud to keep from falling. “Did you have your entire family outside the door just waiting to embarrass you?” Tears spout from her like a fountain, but her anger overrides her need to sob.

  “Your first time?” I whisper, so sad for my sister in so many ways.

  “What? Did you think I was a slut?” she screams in my face. “Because that would be your other sister in the event you were wondering. Rumor has it Gabe is back to making nightly visits! Did you know there’s a secret attic in our room that leads to the roof?”

  Oh my shit! Who the hell designed this stupid house! I’ve checked that labyrinth of an attic for another closeted space, especially above my sisters’ bedroom and came up empty. Dear God, this house grows secret spaces as efficiently as a tumor. It would figure that the Bishop’s old abode is up to no good.

  Mia barges past me, sobbing, pushing her fists deep into her eyes.

  I turn back and watch as she bypasses Melissa’s heavy scowl on her way inside.

  “Way to go, Messenger.” Em hands me Misty, and I take her.

  “I didn’t know.” I glance at all the startled faces around me. “Um—I guess I overreacted.” In truth, I don’t know what the right reaction should have been. I’m certainly not penning Rev’s dick a thank you letter—more like a restraining order. And I will most certainly be telling his father. Maybe he can keep his son’s penis in check—or, in the least, away from my underage sister.

  I care deeply about Mia, and, now that I’m a parent myself, I just want to protect her and keep her safe. It’s incredible to think that merely weeks ago the boys were tucked safe inside me, my maternal instinct yet to fully blossom, but, now, not only could I never envision a life without them, I’m willing to snap into a deranged lunatic to protect them.

  “What was your first time like?” Em asks casually as Ethan and Drake scuttle up to the house to watch the rest of their nudist marathon.

  “My first time? Nice,” I say it quiet as a vision of Logan thrusting above me comes to mind, that heavy look in his eyes, his lips curling up at the tips, satisfied to finally bury himself deep inside me. I shake it out of my head, replacing the image with Gage and his dark, furrowed brows gliding over me—the ridge of his neck bent back in ecstasy. The first time with Gage feels far more appropriate to think about, considering my matrimonial status.

  Misty giggles in my arms and claps for no reason. Dear God, did she see that completely inappropriate reel that just cycled through my mind?

  “How about you?” I volley the slightly awkward virginity ball into Emily’s vaginal court.

  “It was Dudley. You know, it was when everyone was doing him. He was practically a graduation requirement.”

  I cringe. Remembering Marshall’s Studley Dudley days is not something I try to do often.

  “How was it?” I regret the words before they leave my lips.

  “Did you ever see all the shit I drew for him? I painted? That man has an art gallery dedicated to your future lovemaking. You’ll find out for yourself, Messenger, and when you do, the entire island will hear you scream with pleasure.”

  Not what my tired brain wanted to hear at all. A part of me is still hopeful this entire morning is one of Wesley’s twisted nightmares. If it’s not, it should be.

  “You have any pressing diagrams you need to share with me?” I’ve tried every other path to try to save both Gage and the Nephilim people. Maybe the future me can send a very clear message through Em. Not that it works that way.

  “Nope. Not a doodle.” She heads inside with Ember.

  “Boo,” I say as I give a weak smile to Misty. “I’d do anything for a hint of what’s to come.”

  Misty grabs ahold of my ears and laughs as if I’m the funniest thing she’s ever seen. Her fingers grip my neck as she twists and points to Gage.

  A dark fog creeps over the stairwell, crawling up the porch like a body, slowly, ever so methodically, circling his ankles. Gag
e looks to me, his blue eyes traded for piercing glowing rubies. Horns sprout in a burst from the top of his head, thick and black, at least three feet high, curved like half moons like that of a ram. His skin is traded for serpentine scales, the color of rust and soot, and, in an instant, he grows in size and girth, exploding into a demonic creature with black webbed wings, a horrific snout, a tongue of silver fire.

  Omen—the dragon from Host—Gage has morphed into an exact replica of that nefarious mascot, and my heart thuds audibly at the terrifying sight. A horrible sound thunders from him as he rises on his hind legs and lets out a roar that expels a fire fifty feet into the sky. He flaps his wings with great might and speed, propelling himself into the dismal Paragon sky. Gage—the hideous creature he’s become, soars into the stratosphere with a baby locked in his talons—Barron.

  My heart stills, my breathing ceases, as Paragon transforms back to its weary self as if nothing ever happened. Gage waves to me with one of the baby’s hands, and I give a weak wave back.

  “Oh, Misty, that must never happen.” I stagger back toward the house. “Not to Gage,” I whisper. “Not to Barron.”

  I wipe the hideous vision from my mind. It’s Demetri who needs to pay for putting us all in this position. For a moment, I picture his smug self in the middle of the Landon living room while I plunge a butcher knife into his skull again and again, Ezrina style, in an effort to alleviate my pent-up rage.

  Misty startles and begins on a piercing wail.

  “Sorry.” I pull her in and rock her, trying to both comfort her and shield my thoughts as I think up horrific new ways to kill her father.

  In the late afternoon, while Gage is at the morgue and the boys are enjoying a rare moment of content silence, Mom and I sit at the kitchen table pouring over far too many details for a simple christening.

  “I’ve ordered fifty thousand ice blue twinkle lights.” She wiggles her fingers, dazzled by the extremely luminous idea. “The theme is going to be a winter wonderland. Demetri has all those birch trees lining the property, and we’re going to paint their trunks white and wrap them in lights. Everything will be elegant and blue. It’s going to be simply enchanting!”

  Everything will be blue like the Counts, like apparently the Fems—but more to the point, like baby boys, as in the two that the night is in honor of. I need to focus on those two tiny little details and try not to get worked up over the deeper meaning of the hue that my mother chose to run with.

  “There’s nothing as magical as baby blue twinkle lights. Tad will agree!” she belts it out as she yelps to him from across the table. “Remember the Althorpe Christmas party last year?” She beams, but Tad is still hiding behind his journalistic wall of parchment. Both Tad and his newspapers are quickly becoming archaeological relics.

  “It was as if we were lost in a fairy tale!”

  Althorpe? A fairy tale? I bet it was—an old school Brothers Grimm with real live monsters and unhappy, downright gruesome, endings.

  “Are you sleeping?” Mom whacks him on the arm.

  “Nope.” He startles as if coming to after a bad dream. “I gave up sleep right after we moved to this haunted island. You ever think we should have stayed back in L.A. with all the glitz and glamour?”

  What glitz and glamour is he talking about? We survived off Ramen noodles and tap water as soon as he claimed my mother as his bride. Our rental home faced a parking garage.

  “Are you kidding? And miss out on these lovely grandchildren? And Gage?” Mom’s voice pitches unnaturally.

  Smooth, Mom—real smooth.

  “Anyway, we’re discussing the christening. I’m not sparing any expense.” She frowns at Tad a moment. “And by me, I mean Demetri.”

  And together, they just became one—I’ve suspected an unholy union all along.

  Tad tosses down his paper as if acquiescing. “Will there be caviar?”

  God, he asked it so smug, with such expectation. Dare I say, our multiple jaunts to Demetri’s home have ruined everyone’s expectations of a real family get-together? Oh, how I yearn for my mother’s questionable cooking. Not only did we keep the calorie count to nil by not actually ingesting the malodorous fare, but we didn’t have to stare at Demetri’s ugly mug while trying to digest our dinner.

  “Of course.” My mother fans herself as if the thought of not having buckets full of beluga on demand makes her nauseas. “Beluga. Only the best for our grandchildren.” Ha! I so called it.

  I try hard not to roll my eyes since neither the boys nor I will be sucking down glibbery fish eggs.

  “As long as Edinger is footing the bill”—Tad slaps his round belly—“bring on the pricey eats!” Tad is really packing on the pounds ever since Emily has claimed the kitchen as her domain. “Hey, how about you order up some barbeque for the big day, too? Something Cajun?” And there you go. Emily has added a variety of meals to the menu and has become a master griller as well. It’s pretty clear she’s expanded Tad’s culinary horizons for the tastier.

  “Tad”—Mom lounges in his name as if affronted by his suggestion—“this is an elegant affair.”

  “Well, you can’t stop me from coming!” He lets out an atrocious belch that rattles the windows and sets poor little Nathan astir in his bassinet.

  I wish we could stop Tad from a lot of things. Putting a plug in all of his disgusting bodily functions is at the top of the list.

  “Speaking of the guest list, add two more.” He straggles over and taps the table as if it were an order. “Althorpe asked me to entertain those VIPs that have been working their tails off around the island. Said they wanted to soak in some island culture.”

  My antenna goes up. There’s no way I want Killjoy and Moldy at my children’s christening. And working their tails off? Ha! On second thought, for all I know they might actually have tails. “Sorry, but it’s a family affair.”

  Mom gives a curt nod as if agreeing.

  Tad lets loose an assortment of bodily functions. “On second thought, ixnay on the BBQ. I’m about to blow like a volcano from both ends!”

  “Nice,” I whisper, looking up to see Mia ushering Laken into the room. I hop up and give my good friend a strong embrace, hoping to somehow shield her from my stepfather and his offensive odors. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes squint into me in that fake I’m-totally-fine way, and I can tell it’s the furthest thing from the truth. “I just needed to ask you a favor.” She says hello to Mom and Tad before heading to the boys and cooing over their tiny bodies. “Skyla, they’re just so perfect.” Barron’s dimples press in, and she covers her mouth as if holding back tears. “Dear God, that dark hair, those eyes, these gorgeous faces—Skyla, they’re doppelgangers of their father.” Her joy diminishes as soon as she says it. I know she’s thinking of Gage’s nefarious brother.

  “Are you busy?” She winces. “I mean, I know you’re always busy nowadays, but do you think there’s any possibility I could drag you away for a tiny bit? Maybe a half an hour?”

  “I don’t know…Gage is at the morgue with his dad, crunching numbers—”

  “I’ll do it!” Mom volunteers. “Go on, get out. You haven’t left this house since you came back from the hospital. You need some fresh air. And what better way to get it than with a girlfriend?”

  “I object.” Tad holds up a hand like he’s under oath. “Once you open this can of escapist worms, there won’t be any stopping her. She’ll be gone at all hours of the day and night getting some ‘fresh air,’ and you and I will be saddled with two more diaper dwellers. I’m not tripping over one more casket in the night! You hear me, Lizbeth?”

  “Ignore him.” Mom attempts to shoo me away. “This is a perfect time, since you just fed them, and, when you get back, I’ll pull out the breast pump, and we’ll start building a reserve!” She claps as if it were the best news ever. “I have one for each breast, so it cuts the time in half. And I know what you’re thinking—no damn bottles! But I assure you the nipple syste
m I have is as close to Mother Nature as it gets. It’s that fantastic pouch setup I once used. The one you strap to your body.” I clearly and regretfully remember. She duct taped that thing to her chest in order to feed Beau. It was the artificial third nipple she flashed at us for years. How can I ever forget? “And guess what? Great news! Gage can breastfeed, too!”

  Crap. I offer the idea of a smile. “That’s going to be something.” I lean in and kiss Nathan and Barron each on their delicate, buttery cheeks. My heart wrenches at the thought of leaving them here all alone with Mom and Tad. Gage might divorce me if he hears of it. “Promise you will watch them like a hawk!”

  “Like a mama bear!” Mom one-ups me in the animal kingdom.

  “Keep your phone near you,” I scold. “And turn it up all the way!” I shout as I snatch up my purse and scoot reluctantly to the door.

  “Have a good time! Nothing will happen to the boys, Skyla, I promise!”

  “Famous last words,” I whisper as Laken and I head outside.

  As soon as we cross the threshold, my heart begins to race.

  “Where are we going?” My mind spins, trying to wrap my head around the fact I’m actually going to leave without my two favorite appendages. And also, I’m secretly calculating how many Burger Shack fries I can buy for Laken and me with a twenty-dollar bill.

  Laken’s lids lower as she gives a mean shiver, and there isn’t a single gust of wind. Wherever we’re going, it already has her spooked.

  “We’re going back to the Transfer to see Wes.”

  “Oh, is that all? Couldn’t you call him to come and see you?” I’m desperate to run back into the house and hold my babies. This entire outing feels tantamount to child abandonment. Everything in me screams don’t fucking do it!

  She shakes her head, her caramel curls stiff and bountiful as my own this morning.

  “I need you to protect me.”

  “Please. Wesley would never hurt you. You’re golden in that regard.” True as God.