The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  “Not from Wes.” She takes my hand and leads me to the car idling in the driveway. “From me.”

  Laken drives to Devil’s Peak with the radio turned up all the way, the speakers crackling from the weight of a familiar, yet warbling Christmas carol. God, I love this time of year.

  The parking lot is full, and bodies brim all over the grassy areas that lead to the lookout. Billows of fog unfurl like batting over the ocean, but they haven’t quite touched down onto Paragon’s shoreline yet. Not sure how Laken thinks we’ll unassumingly toss our bodies over the side of the cliff anytime soon.

  She turns down the thick music that’s ricocheting off the ceiling, vibrating the windows with its melodic twang.

  “I didn’t know riding with the bass all the way up was your style, Flanders.” I give a little wink at the mention of her new last name, and Laken’s features wring out any trace of joy. “I get it, though. That was your way of saying don’t ask me any questions.”

  Laken’s cheeks darken with color. “You guessed it.”

  “So, can I ask you any questions?”

  “No.” She kills the engine. “What are we going to do? I’m desperate to see him.”

  “Is calling him on the phone out?”

  She gives a solemn nod.

  I hope that doesn’t mean Laken doesn’t want Coop to find out. Already I don’t like where this is headed.

  “Switch seats with me.”

  I get behind the wheel and drive us slowly down the twisted road that leads to the base of Devil’s Peak. That wall of granite lies ahead as I rev the engine. The fog rolls in, flipping cartwheels over Paragon’s rocky crags like a herd of happy ghostlike children. Its fingers curl at the edge of Laken’s hood as if readying to swallow the car.

  A crowd of teenagers bucks with laughter at the top of the cliff while doing a lousy job of hiding their beer bottles.

  “They’ll see us, Skyla.” Laken’s breathing grows erratic just watching that mountain before us shining like steel.

  “They won’t. We’ll be too fast for them to see.”

  My foot hits the floorboard, and we fly across the graveled expanse straight into the barrier that penetrates us into the next plane with a pleasant hum. The car vibrates and shakes. The world around us transforms from the gloomy landscape of Paragon to the dark armpit of the Transfer. The car lands over the cracked soil with a thump, mowing down a dozen or so of the literal deadbeats that populate this place.

  “Sorry!” I say, getting out and following Laken to Wesley’s tall, dark, and scary hideaway. My heart is in literal agony at the thought of him trying to raise a little girl in this hellhole, all alone with no potential friends, no humans, no Nephilim—no good ones anyway.

  Several of the Transfer transplants get in my face with rage and warble out a few unintelligible words. A man with a unibrow pounds his chest like a gorilla.

  Laken and I head inside, leaving the people of this underworld to pause at the edge of the walkway leading to Wesley’s monstrosity of a home. It’s as if they know not to step on his turf, not to enter these unhallowed walls. I would be lying if it didn’t make me feel important to know that Laken and I could simply waltz in, uninvited, and be total bitches to Wesley himself. I don’t think Wes would ever revoke our invites.

  “You’re here.” Wes looks perplexed. Little Tobie lies nestled in his arms while Bishop sits with her feet up on the rococo-inspired coffee table, the wood sculpted like the waves of the sea with a plate of glass in the center. The entire piece is gilded from top to bottom, as fake and useless as Chloe’s heart. She pauses from filing her nails to glance at us over her shoulder.

  “Congrats on the brats, Skyla. I hope they both had big heads.”

  Typical Chloe, always ready with a dig.

  “Hello, little one.” I touch my finger to Tobie’s chubby little hand, and she grips it tight with her finger. Her lips curl into a wide grin as she looks right at me, blowing bubbles and cooing happily. She’s the exact representation of Gage—or Wesley for that matter, in miniature female form. “God, her whole face lights up when she smiles. She’s beautiful, Wes.” So much for being a bitch to my worst enemy. Only a baby can have the power to defuse me.

  “We need to talk, Wes.” Laken ticks her head toward the hall. “Do you think Chloe can take the baby for a second?”

  “Oh, I will!” I volunteer, scooping her cute chubby self into my arms. Tobie is heavier than the boys by far, but, then, she’s older by a month, so it’s to be expected. She starts kicking and fussing, her head twisting toward my chest as if she knows I’m carrying a delicious concealed weapon—two of them to be exact. “Where’s her bottle?”

  “I just ran out of formula.” Wesley’s dimples ignite as he gazes lovingly at his little miss. “Ezrina will be back soon.”

  “You ran out?” I squawk, incredulous, doing my best impression of my mother. “You don’t run out of formula! You need to build up a stockpile! Buy two or twelve of those cans at a time just to ensure she’ll get what she needs, day or night.” I press her tiny body to mine, momentarily forgetting who she came from. A part of me doesn’t seem to care. Tobie is as innocent as her big blue eyes suggest. I’m not about to pile the sins of her parents onto her tiny little shoulders. God knows that would do her in.

  “You’re right. I need to be better prepared.” Wes strokes her tiny cheek with his finger. The look of love in his eyes makes my heart melt—but only because he looks strikingly like Gage at the moment. Wes may be a lot of rotten things, but he’s shaping up to be a wonderful father. “It won’t happen again.”

  He turns to Laken, and they begin their little powwow, only I’m catching every third word because Tobie is rooting like crazy, trying to get my chest to turn into a flesh-covered bottle. Just listening to her cry and fuss makes my rock-hard boobs perk to attention. And now both of our bodies are aching for relief.

  Laken says something, bemoaning the idea of being disloyal to Coop.

  What? I rock my way over, trying my hardest to listen in, but Tobie starts in on a wild fuss, inspiring Laken and Wes to step further away. Crap. How exactly am I supposed to be protecting Laken from herself when she keeps sashaying in the opposite direction? For all I know, Laken is signing up to be sex slave in exchange for world peace. God forbid she enters into some kind of a coital covenant.

  “Bishop, take your daughter a minute, would you? I need to be a part of this.” I shuffle over to Chloe, and she gets up and passes me right by as if I wasn’t holding the most precious baby girl in the world.

  “Huh—I did my part,” she huffs. “No one said anything about holding her. Besides, she doesn’t want to be held. Lock her in her room and shut the damn door. That’ll teach her.”

  “God, Bishop, I don’t know why I expected anything more from you.”

  Tobie’s face begins to change colors as her frustration rolls to a boil. I shoot a quick text to Ezrina and ask her how far away she is. Couldn’t she concoct something in the lab for goodness’ sake? This is a serious situation. A child is starving. I scan the area for a pacifier just as Ezrina pings back.

  At Cost Club. Line is terrible. Another hour at least.

  An hour? Little Tobie starts in on an all-out assault on my boob as if she, too, were vexed by this.

  Oh, screw it. I pull up my blouse and undo what Gage refers to as the “secret hatch” on my bra. It takes three tries before Tobie latches on and begins sucking away as if her cute chubby little thighs depend on it—which they probably do. I gasp as she finally goes at it—that feeling of a needle embedding straight into my nipple hasn’t quite gone away yet. At least they’ve stopped cracking and bleeding. One gift at a time, I suppose.

  I look down at this hungry child feasting at my bosom, this hungry child who is not my own, and I’m shocked to hell at how quickly I’ve become my mother.

  “Well, well,” Chloe muses, popping up from behind and inspecting the breasty malfeasance. “Like mother, like daughter.”

  “Hopefully, they’ll never say the same about you and Tobie.” I scoot over to where Laken and Wes are in deliberations and keep my back to them in the event Wesley decides to go ninja on me.

  “I want to know, Wes.” Laken is speaking in an exceedingly kind tone. Hey? I thought we were coming in as wicked bitches, and here I am playing nursemaid while Laken is trying to sweet talk him. No wonder our enemy is prospering. We’re making provisions. “Is it true if I give myself to you wholly that you’ll come to your senses?”

  Give herself wholly? In what way? In that way? Why? I hold my breath, scooting in ever so carefully, afraid to hold back their momentum.

  “What are we talking?” Wes grunts. “A night? A week? A year?” He sounds just as frustrated, and it’s a tone I’ve never heard him evoke with her. Wesley Edinger worships the ground Laken walks on. Hell, he longs to kiss her feet, kiss any single part of her. But thank God, Laken is a bright girl and chose to side with Celestra and Coop.

  “You tell me. A lifetime? Do you want me to live out the rest of my natural days in the Transfer? I wasn’t fed the specifics.” Laken’s tone just took a turn for the pissed. Pissed is good, Laken—very, very good.

  “What?” I squawk. Again, is this another twisted nightmare? Wesley’s once-upon-a-midnight-stomp in this hellhole seems to have spawned an entire slew of real-life horrors.

  Laken holds up a hand to me. “Answer me right now, Wes.”

  “Laken.” His fingers tremble as they touch her arms—as if he were only moments away from ravaging her. “What you’re asking—does Cooper know?”

  “I just wanted to be clear if this is an option.” She skirts the question and answers with something far more outrageous. “If I gave you my life—my body, to do as you please—would you cease all of this wickedness? And what kind of insurance would you give me—a covenant drawn up by Skyla’s mother? I’m sure it would be airtight. No more evil poured out on the Nephilim,” she scoffs. “Would you really call off your army of the dead and the government? Would you put things back the way they were and forget about power, and money, and every vile thing that’s churning in your stomach?”

  What in the hell has gotten into her?

  Chloe glances at me with eyes the size of saucers. “So wait.” She saunters on over. “You think he’s actually going to give all of this up?” She fans around the room as if it were a prize. “Give up his rightful place as ruler of the Fems and the Steel Barricade just so he could fuck you nightly? Oh, honey.” She honks out a laugh. “You’re hot, but you are not that hot. Get a grip, and lose the ego. Wes isn’t giving anything up for you, or he would have done it a long time ago.”

  Laken’s face piques with color as if Chloe had just slapped her, and basically, she did.

  Of course, I could have told Laken all of that—minus the insults. Laken is that hot. Wes is just too stupid to deserve his next breath.

  Wesley takes a moment, centering himself to the idea. “Is this something you would seriously consider?”

  Poor Coop. I’d better do something fast.

  “No way, no how,” I say, looking over my shoulder at the two of them. “Chloe is right.” And I hate myself for both admitting it and saying it out loud. “Wes is going to lie to you. Or worse, attempt to have his way with you and then get right back to dismantling the world. Don’t kill your brand new marriage over nothing, Laken. You’re not being a martyr. You’re just fooling yourself if you think you are. If he wanted to leave the coven that lives in his father’s armpit, he would have done it when you gave him the option the first time all those years ago. He chose this living hell over you. He’s a killer, a destroyer, a beast with no morals. No matter how good you are in bed, this boy isn’t changing his wicked ways.”

  “Skyla?” Wes creeps over, filled with suspicion. “What is it that you’re doing?”

  Crap. I try to pull my nipple out of Tobie’s tiny mouth, but she’s hanging on with a death grip, and it stretches unnaturally long as if it were taffy.

  “Skyla?” Laken calls. “You can turn around. I got my point across.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. You two continue hashing things out. I’ll just keep rocking sweet little Tobie. She really seems to like it.”

  Wes pops his head over my shoulder. “Shit, Skyla.”

  “I’m sorry!” I give a half-hearted shriek and trot away a few feet. “She was crying!” I turn around, and Laken slaps her hand over her mouth. “And I sprung a leak, and, well—I don’t think it’ll actually kill her.”

  Wes comes over and brushes Tobie’s dark hair back. A loving look of affection warms his face as he stares down at both his daughter and my left boob. I decide to overlook the fact he just accidentally grazed my nipple with his hand.

  “This is what I wanted for her. A mother—a bond like this.” He shakes his head, disappointed in his useless nipples, I’m sure.

  “Anyway.” I plunge a finger next to her tiny pink mouth and break the suction. Tobie rears her head and gasps as if she’s coming up for air. Her mouth is still rooting for more, so I do the sensible thing and switch sides. “My boobs were turning into rock-hard boulders, so it’s sort of a win-win situation.” I cover up as much as I can. I hate that the tally of people who have seen my boobs in the last month has climbed to double digits. “Laken, it’s very admirable of you to throw yourself on the sword.” Or, in this case, the penis. “Wes, tell her you’re too big of a megalomaniac to consider such a ridiculous option so we can get on our way.”

  “I don’t know.” He takes up Laken’s hands in his own. “This is Laken—the love of my life. What good is all the power in the world when you don’t have love?”

  I suck in a quick breath. Wesley has picked a lousy time to come to his senses. Coop will kill him, and so will I, if he ever touches Laken in that way.

  “Power is everything!” I gasp, trying to manufacture reasons why Wes needs to stay firmly on the dark side. “When it comes to wickedness, you’re the man! Not even Demetri can do it better. If you switch teams, who am I going to go up against? I need a worthy opponent.” God! What am I saying?

  Laken’s selfish plot just might work. Sure, it will help the Nephilim, but where will that leave poor Coop?

  “Laken”—I plead with her—“you have a husband—who by the way is an Adonis, a Greek god amongst mere mortals—a marble statue come to life—Mount Olympus yearns to have its favorite son back. And, Wes, you seem pretty happy here in this multi-level home with a wicked view of the badlands. You’re an evil genius. Not even Ezrina is good enough to crack your codes.”

  A throat clears from behind, and I cringe as Ezrina appears.

  “Skyla!” Her eyes widen as she spies Tobie latched to my boob. “Give.” She flicks her fingers, and I’m slow to surrender the little suckling. “I’ll have you know, I can crack codes with the best of them,” she snarls as she leaves the room with my new little boob buddy. If anyone ever told me that Ezrina and I would be caring for Chloe’s offspring more than she does, I would have never believed it. On second thought, maybe I would.

  Wes caresses the side of Laken’s cheek. “The thought of being with you, sharing our lives once again—a bed. It makes me genuinely happy. But knowing that you may not want me, that it’s simply work for you, a sacrifice, makes me feel like it wouldn’t be worth it for either of us.”

  She shakes her head. “But what if I were devoted?” She narrows her gaze on his as if she were testing him. “What if I bear your children? What if I love Tobie as if she were my own?”

  Obviously, I’ve already beaten her to the punch.

  When Laken made it clear to Wes, a few months back, that she was determined to shut down the tunnels, he suggested they date, that they share one last kiss before he opened the gates of hell in her honor. But it wasn’t really in her honor. Wes was about to do it anyway. It’s no wonder Laken feels as if her body is the portal to freedom for millions. He’s convinced her of just that. And Laken is just sweet enough to feel tremendous guilt for at least not trying to save the masses. Thankfully, Wes is being honest and letting her know it wouldn’t work. Wow, here it is—the day that I’m actually thankful to Wesley Edinger for something.

  “Well, we’d better get going!” I snatch Laken by the arm and drag her to the car. “I get it.” I close my eyes for a moment as the Transfer transplants cage us in from all sides. “You think this is productive in a major way, but trust me, it’s not. Wes used you for that kiss last year. Your vagina isn’t the solution you’re hoping it’ll be.”

  “You don’t know that.” Her face pinches with grief.

  “Stop it!” I’m one ounce shy of slapping her back to reality myself. “I’m not impressed with this sacrifice you’re willing to dish up, and you shouldn’t be either.”

  She gets in my face. “I don’t give a shit if you’re impressed.” Her jaw sets in a snarl. “You know who’s impressed? The captives I freed.” She beats her chest. “What Wesley showed us last night was just his opening number. He’s going to raze this Earth and its people. You think the death toll is high enough? Be prepared to watch it climb. And the future? It’s going to be a living hell for everybody. Sometimes, a person has to sacrifice themselves for the greater good of the people.”

  “You don’t give up a marriage to quell the devil!”

  “Sometimes, you do!” she shouts back, tears streaming from her eyes.

  She turns to leave, and I reel her in with all of my Celestra strength and hold her trembling body until she stills beneath me.

  “I don’t want to fight with you,” I whisper, her chest heaving against my own. “This is not an option. Wesley made his decision years ago.”

  “I just thought”—she hiccups through tears—“he’s had a chance to see what the power is like—how empty it is. I thought I could circumvent what’s to come. Skyla, the Spectators are frightening. A world filled with monsters is going to change everything.”

  I grip her by the shoulders and shake her. “The world has always been filled with monsters. Wesley is one of them.”

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