The Serpentine Butterfly
Page 71
“Are my eyelids supposed to be up?” I tease. “I thought I was dreaming.”
Coop gives a quick embrace. “Wes is here.” His expression sours as he glances to Gage.
Gage winces as he takes them in. “I’m so sorry, guys. If I’d have known that what I said would have set into motion what it did, I would have kept my mouth shut.”
Laken pulls her gorgeous hubby in tight. “Believe me, it’s been a relief.”
“I encouraged her,” Coop confesses. “I knew Laken wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing she might have had the power to stop this. I also know Wes is too much of a power-hungry SOB to have left his unholy throne.”
My gut wrenches because I know for a fact that unholy throne happens to have Gage Oliver’s name on it. Thankfully, that’s one seat he’ll never take.
“Coop.” I reach over and offer him a firm embrace. “But what would you have done if Wes lied just to take Laken?”
He glances over in the nefarious Fem’s direction. “He can’t lie to her any more than I can.”
Laken pulls him in. “Coop and I were both certain he wouldn’t do it. And, in truth, I do have peace in my heart knowing there’s nothing I could have done to stop this.”
“I know it sounds twisted, but I thought it was commendable.” Coop pulls his wife in tight. “Laken would sacrifice herself in any manner to make sure the Nephilim didn’t have to suffer at the hands of that madman—in theory.” He hikes his brows at his bride, and she kisses him on the lips.
Coop and Laken are solid. I love that. I love how it flies in the face of Wes and all of his wicked intentions. The good guys really do win. I should know. Gage and I are proof of that ourselves.
“A sacrifice like that wouldn’t have been worth it.” I pull Gage in as if to prove a point. “Wickedness only knows how to lie. Even if he agreed to end all this madness, it would be a fabrication. Making a covenant with evil is a mistake every single time. You think you’re doing something noble, then bam! They have you by the balls, ten times worse than before.”
Gage tenses beneath my arm. I know he’s taken a liking to Wes. Heck, I’ve taken a liking to Wes, and that bastard once sucked me dry in the tunnels himself. I do wish he would change, but not for Laken’s sake, for his own.
“I’m so glad you were there for me.” Laken takes up my warm hand in her gloves. “I just had to know. And when the shit hits the fan, I’ll feel less responsible for it.”
“You won’t be responsible for it at all.” I smile at her handsome counterpart. “Besides, I have never seen a better looking couple than the two of you. As soon as graduation hits, you two should seriously consider procreation. That is, unless you take an unexpected detour like we did.”
“Be careful.” Gage winces. “And enjoy the hell out of a good night’s sleep.”
“We do have a bit of news.” Coop gives Laken a sly wink as if they were conspiring this entire time.
“Laken! How could you not tell me? Oh my God! How far along are you?” I can’t spit the questions out quick enough.
“No, not that.” She glances around in the event a stray ear glommed on to our miscommunication. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I’ve taken a paid position at West Paragon High.” Coop leans in with a self-deprecating grin. “I’m the new assistant coach. Come next spring, when I get my degree from Host, I’ll be bumped to head coach if I want. They’re filling the position with temps in the meantime.”
“Son of a bitch.” Gage pulls him into a man hug.
“And I want to know if you’re willing to help out. There’s another paid position. It’ll be tricky with school, but not impossible. You in?”
“Hell fucking yeah, I’m in.” They engage in a knuckle bump, secret handshake combo, and Laken and I are just as giddy for them. Gage’s entire life revolved around football until last year when he hurt his back.
“This will be just as good as getting on the field myself.” Gage beams. “And at West? Can you believe that, Skyla? It’s like I’m going home.”
“Say hi to Cerberus for me,” I tease.
“Here’s the party.” Logan gives Gage and me a hug at the same time. “Just spent some time with my two favorite nephews.”
“I guess I’ve been booted from the top of the totem pole.” Gage ruffs up Logan’s hair.
Logan is quick to shrug him off and slick it back down to perfection. “You’re more of a brother to me anyhow. Speaking of brothers.” He glances over my shoulder, and we turn to find Liam with Michelle Miller snug in his arms. “It looks like he made his choice.”
“Or was it made for him?” I nod over at Lexy with her arms draped over Brody Bishop’s shoulders. It’s no secret that his on-again, off-again relationship with Brooke is off-again. I’ve seen her sniffing around Marshall. I scan the vicinity, and there she is, trying to latch on to him like a tick, ready to get fat off his Sector eminence. Dream on, sweetheart, I want to say. In truth, I feel pretty bad for caring at all.
Marshall spots me and points in my direction, breaking up his little powwow with Brielle’s big sister. She smirks as he makes haste in this direction.
“Modern girls just won’t take no for an answer,” he muses, giving a swift tug to his tweed jacket as if to annunciate his frustration.
Coop gives a dull laugh. “She’s on the rebound. Coming on strong is par for the course. Speaking of rebounds, any luck with that elixir Ezrina whipped up?”
“What elixir?” I don’t like being out of the loop when it comes to Ezrina’s lotions and potions.
“Your magic mushrooms,” Laken interjects. “When you vomited in the Transfer—”
“Oh, that’s right. It had the power to harvest an entire crop of insta-shroom.” I cringe at the memory. “Please don’t tell me they hold some psychedelic side effects. I’d hate to think I had the power to sponsor crazy.”
“Nope.” Coop grins. “Something better. You have the power to sponsor life. Turns out, Ezrina thinks the regenerating power she’s harvested from them is enough to bring back the Spectators.”
“Thank God.” Gage leans his head back, allowing the moon to kiss the ridges of his neck. “The Videns will be relieved to hear that. It’s been a shit ride for the families of the ‘volunteers.’”
I shudder. “See? I bet Wes promised them one thing, then did another. No offense, but your father and brother are masters of bait-and-switch.”
Gage extinguishes a breath as if he’s been holding it all night. Logan slaps an arm over his nephew’s—scratch that—brother’s shoulder as if to comfort him.
“Your dad—Barron is looking for you,” Logan says to Gage as they politely excuse themselves from our circle.
“I’ll be there in a second!” I call after them.
“Ms. Messenger—” Marshall clasps my hand and begins ushering me toward the edge of the party. I give Laken and Coop a slight wave as I’m so rudely carted off.
“Do you mind? I have guests to mingle with.”
“Yes. About those guests.” His eyes shine red like cranberries as he glares into the woods. “You have an unexpected visitor.”
I crane my neck trying to get a glimpse of whatever it is he sees, but all I can make out is a tall, lanky couple—
“Oh, it’s just them. Killion and Moser. They make my stomach turn almost as much as Chloe does. And clearly the good-for-nothing feathered Kragger isn’t here because she’s gracing us with her awful presence.”
“Young Holden is nesting in my rafters with his pale-plumed betrothed.”
“Oh! I’ve been meaning to ask—”
“It’s already done.” Marshall marches us on without skipping a beat.
“You mean—”
“Yes, I’ve done the deed.” He looks positively perturbed. “Joined together in holy feathered matrimony a bird and his chick.”
“Ha! That’s pretty funny actually.” Only Marshall isn’t laughing.
“You wouldn’t think it so humorous i
“I don’t think heat is something birds typically experience.”
“Believe you me, these birds give heat a new meaning. I expect a baby batch of Kraggers come spring.”
“That sounds dangerous to the entire species.”
“It will be.” Marshall shoots a crinkled eye into the woods as if trying to make something out. “But those Althorpe postulants weren’t the guests I was—”
“Here you are!” Mom hooks me with her claw, and, before I know it, I’m front and center with the Olivers as Barron holds his namesake and Emma cuddles with Nathan.
Mom squeals as she wraps her arms around Tad. “Who would have thought a year ago we’d all be standing here today?”
“Not me—that’s for dog dang sure.” Tad deadpans. “I told you we should have splurged and bought them a box of Willie Warmers last Christmas.”
Mom swats him like the annoying fly he is.
“But no—” Tad weaves his finger through the air. “You thought it would be crass.” He says crass with air quotes. “You know what’s crass, Lizbeth? Stepping on a dirty diaper in the middle of the night! Do you really know what number two feels like squishing between your toes?”
“That was a one-time deal. I did not plant them all over the bedroom like a minefield just to watch your blood pressure spike like you accused me.” She gives an incredulous huff. “If I were trying to kill you, I’d think of far more clever ways.”
Shit.
Emma and Barron exchange uncomfortable glances. And suddenly, I want to snatch the boys from their arms and make a run for it.
Talks of plotting your spouse’s homicide is something the Olivers simply cannot relate to—although, I couldn’t blame Barron for a fantasy or two.
“Skyla!” Emma chirps as if she heard me, and I jump.
Tad gesticulates wildly as if he can’t get his words out fast enough. “And you can bet your bottom tootin’ dollar that they’ll each be getting a box of baby stoppers in their stockings tomorrow night!”
Emma chooses to ignore him while rocking Nathan. “Speaking of gifts—I have an early Christmas present for you, Skyla. It’s in my purse. Would you mind reaching in?”
Gage gives a smug look my way that reads told you she loves you.
Emma angles her purse toward me, and I pull out a small box the size of a paperback wrapped in black and white print with a bright red bow on top. I can’t help but think it looks so cosmopolitan and chic, and, for a second, I’m bursting with pride until I realize it’s simply wrapped in one of Barron’s discarded newspapers. An entire row of happy yearbook-like pictures spans up and down the girth of it with birthdates and death dates below their photos. Gah! It’s the freaking obituaries! Emma Oliver wrapped my Christmas gift in the obituaries! Figures.
“Presents!” Giselle pops up on cue, all giggles and smiles, with Ellis hanging on by her fingertips. “Did Santa come early? If he did, it’s because I begged and begged!” She gives a few quick hops. Giselle is so stunningly beautiful with her dark hair and deep-welled dimples. Even though Emerson Kragger wasn’t related to Gage, her features really did resemble his. I can’t help but think of Sage, what she would have looked like at that age. Stunning. She would have been stunning.
“The gift is for Skyla.” Emma gives a tight-lipped smile. “And it’s not from Santa. It’s actually from me, just a little something.”
I pull the paper off carefully, and just before I’m about to fling it to the side, I stop cold. Staring me in the eyes is a familiar, dearly departed soul I may have accidentally sent to paradise before her time, Kate Winston.
I glance up at Emma and meet up with her sharp stare. There’s something cold, calculating in her eyes as if this were no error, no accidental wrapping mishap that I’m contending with. There is a very real reason that Kate is in my hands doing her obituary best to pull a guilt trip on me—well, not Kate, Emma. Maybe this is Emma’s way of saying you will never be good enough for my son because you are a homicidal murderer. Or better yet, I’ll never be a good enough mother because I’ll forever run the risk of lopping off one of my poor children’s heads. Who knows what twisted thoughts are running through her mind?
“Oh, the suspense.” Marshall connects those poppy red eyes with mine and gives a single nod before glancing down at poor Kate. And for whatever it’s worth, I feel vindicated knowing that this discretion of Emma’s didn’t get past Marshall. Gage, on the other hand, coaxes me to open the box, completely oblivious to his mother’s morbid slight.
I unearth the box and hold my breath. It’s blue, Tiffany blue, which under normal circumstances would excite me, but given the delivery, it has sort of knocked the sheen off that pricey shade of turquoise. I pull off the lid and am met with the glare of two tiny silver spoons, their handles curled up at the ends.
“They’re engraved.” She beckons me to inspect this myself.
I shoot Gage a smug look myself that says see? It wasn’t for me after all. It was for the boys. The wrapping was for me—makes total sense.
“That’s so thoughtful,” I say. Thoughtful in a cryptic-reminder-of-my-darkest-hour sort of way. Kate’s life was cut short because of my ill attention. I gasp in horror. “God, is that what you’re trying to say? Is this some passive-aggressive attempt to let me know I’m going to accidentally kill my children because of my ill attention?”
“Skyla!” Tad and Gage shout in unison. Good God, if those two are joining forces on anything, the world must be coming to an end.
“It’s just hormones.” Mom flicks a wrist at Emma, trying to defuse my odd outburst. “It takes months for the human brain to come back from Babyville.” Or apparently years.
I frown at my mother for the vagina-based defense.
Tad grunts, “Every day I hear the exact same excuses.” He gives an exaggerated shake of the head to Emma as if to sympathize. “Ignore her”—he does his best impression of my mother—“she’s got bloody, crusty boobies!” His hands dance in front of his chest as if to add to the mimicry.
“I apologize, Emma.” I choke on my words. “But I think I need some air.” I push the gift toward Gage and head to the rear of the yard.
“I’ll come with you!” Giselle catches up. Her dark beauty shines against the pale glow of twinkle lights the color of a tropical sky. “Where do we go to get the best fresh air?”
“Probably deep in the woods.” So the government can haul me away before I go psycho batshit on your mother again.
“Dude.” Ellis appears like a ghost on my other side. “You just need something to mellow you out—you know—take you down a notch so you can roll with the Oliver punches.”
“I know what you’re rolling, Ellis, and no thank you.” I’d hate to think how long it would take to express those laughing gases Ellis infuses himself with daily out of my not-so-fun bags—or “bloody, crusty boobies” as Tad lovingly refers to them. Ellis doesn’t even bother to hide his pot addiction anymore. You can smell it on him. His new cologne, Eau de Reefer. I bet all the gifts Emma has for Ellis this Christmas will be wrapped in the obituaries, too. I’m also willing to bet she’d love for him to star in one of those morbid ads himself—right along with me.
We hit the first layer of pines and hear the distinct moan of a girl followed by giggles. The fog dances around our feet, swirling, pulling us forward with its elongated fingers. Paragon is flirting, casting her spell as she lures us deeper into the woods.
“I should be getting back to the party,” a female voice chortles unconvincingly. God, it sort of sounds like Mia… “But only after you put that nightstick of yours in my—”
“Oh my God!” I stalk over to the shadowed figures, ready to rip Revelyn Booth’s nightstick right off his body and beat him senseless with it. Only it’s not Rev and Mia—it’s Drake and Brielle.
“Oh!” I try to turn away, but I’m afraid I’ve exposed my corneas to Drake’s flesh-covered nightstick, and my lids burn as I squeeze them tight.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
“Geez, people!” Brielle bops over, still buttoning her blouse, a bare nipple ogling at the three of us. “Where do you have to go to get some privacy around here?”
“Mars.” I glare at Drake a moment, holding back the suggestion he sign up for an upcoming mission. He is a father—of two. Not to mention the fact my mother, keeper of the destinies, seems to have gifted him with the Midas touch.
“Shh!” Drake puts his finger to his lips. “I’ve been hearing weird shit out here all night.” He gives a mean stare into the fog, and I half expect a hand to reach out and snatch him.
“I know—it’s totally freaking me out.” Brielle shivers. “It’s like the woods have eyes, and something sinister is watching us.”
I take a quick breath. “It’s those idiots who keep trying to question me. I’ve had this foreboding feeling all night like they’re coming at me with a big giant net. We’d better get back to the party. I don’t want them cornering any of us. If they come near you, remember, you know nothing about nothing.” An easy task for the majority present.
“What’s nothing?” Giselle whispers as a billow of haze spreads from her lips.
“About faction business—about angels,” I whisper, touching my finger to my mouth. I’ve learned that with Giselle you need to be very upfront with nary an analogy between you and her ears. She needs to be told point-blank which way is up, and then she’s good to go—mostly.
“They’re coming!” Brielle clamps her hand over her mouth as two elongated shadows, forty feet in length at least, head in this direction.
“We’re not angels!” Giselle shrieks as if she’s being filleted with the sharpest blade.
Holy, holy. I close my eyes.
“Just follow me,” I hiss, leading us to the left, but Killion and Moser make the turn right alongside us. “Shit.”
This is it. I can see it now—the five of us thrown into government-issued cages while they strip search us looking for alien markings, or battery packs. Worse yet, they’ll probe our every orifice! Darn Wes. His hunger for world domination is going to cause my vagina to be surveyed by yet another stranger. And what about Gage? He’ll have to raise the twins without me. Chloe will probably claw her way to the surface just to try to fill my bedroom slippers.
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