The Serpentine Butterfly

by Addison Moore

  He pulls back, blinking hard, as he and Logan rush after Demetri.

  A swell of relief settles over me. It’s done. Gage and I are finally on the path to taking control of all that was pulling us apart—all that was threatening to destroy the factions.

  The tunnels are open—with better intentions. The new mushroom-inspired serum Ezrina is working on just might be the saving grace my people need to shelter our markers and regenerate the Spectators. I’m ready and willing to stomp out any new scheme Wesley dreams up like a flame. The Retribution League will continue to net as many Spectators and as many traitors as possible. Wesley is no longer two steps ahead of us—we are neck-and-neck. And finally, yes finally, I am in charge of my people. It feels good. It feels like home.

  I sigh as Gage disappears out of sight. “I already miss him.” I love him that much, and more.

  “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” Marshall quips. “I find the drama almost charming. Where is Jock Strap off to? Is it time for a potty break?” His left cheek twitches in my husband’s direction a moment before his eyes widen, and he takes a quick breath.

  “Stop.” Nathan begins to fuss, and I shift him from one arm to the other. “Gage and I are deeply in love.” I smile into Nathan’s perfect features. “Not to mention, it’s a special night for us.”

  Marshall gives a vacant stare to the woods. His jaw ticks as if he were pissed. “Indeed it is. You might even say it’s sacred.” His nostrils flare as he takes in some invisible scene far away. “Find your mother and Emma. The twins should go inside for a while. You and I are going on a little adventure.”

  A Binding, Blinding Kind of Love

  GAGE

  My feet trudge forth, involuntarily, weighted as if carrying me to my death chamber. Death would have been easier. If only a simple departure is what would break Skyla’s heart. But this is no earthly departure, no temporary parting—this is a stake driven right through the heart of who we are. This is my greatest sacrifice, my most intimate betrayal all rolled into one.

  Logan takes up my hand, and I look at him as we follow Demetri and Wes like diligent soldiers. I can’t recall a single memory of the two of us holding hands, not even as boys. Instead of pulling away, I lean in, assuring him of my decision, of my false bravado. I give his fingers a squeeze—saying thank you—saying please fucking help me because I’d rather die a thousand deaths than do what I’m about to, what I need to.

  We bypass the party, snake our way through a thicket of bushes, and end up in a clearing deep in the woods, a stone of sacrifice lying flat and round the size of a dining room table, and here I am offering myself up to Demetri for the feast.

  Wes pulls a duffel bag from the bushes and extricates a goblet dipped in gold. I recognize it, the exact one we used to seal the covenant between us that day I joined the Barricade. Ironic since breaking faith with that shit parade is what’s brought us here to drink from it again.

  Logan leans in. “You want to walk, just say the word.”

  I pull him in quick, his nose just a hair from mine. “You listen to me, and listen good. My hands are fucking tied. If for any reason I thought I could walk the hell away and not have my children placed in that madman’s clutches, I would have never begun the journey.” I swallow hard, struggling with the sudden rage that’s overtaken me. “I am not doing this for pleasure. This is pain all the way around.” Tears blur my vision as I let him go. “Sorry. I know you meant to help.”

  “I know your heart,” Logan whispers as Demetri and Wes busy themselves with the details of the wicked undertaking. “I also know that when Skyla asks why, when she rages against your decision—and make no mistake, she will—I will go to bat for you. I spoke with Candace.” His jaw twitches with anger. “There is no other way. It’s you or your sons, end of discussion. You’re making the only decision that works. If it were me, I would do the same.”

  I let his words soak in a moment before agreeing with a nod. “It’s the right decision,” I say as if convincing myself.

  “This covenant kicks in after your death, Gage.” Logan cocks his head. “That means the longer you’re alive, the longer this madness is put off.”

  I look off into the woods, trying to go along with Logan’s brand of logic and come up empty. “Demetri doesn’t need me on the throne to prosper.”

  “He wants you. You’re the prize. He’s not going to do anything to stop your death from happening, but others can, and I’ll make sure they will.”

  “Death will come.” A slight smile ticks on my lips, anemic and weak. “But I will never be Skyla’s enemy. It might be in my blood, but it’s not in my heart. Any actions I might take to the contrary are the work of that devil.” I glance to Demetri. “Looks like I’ll be the boy on a string that he’s always wanted me to be.”

  “You’re stronger than he is,” Logan says it with so much conviction it’s hard to deny him, almost as hard as it is to convince myself of those very words. I don’t feel strong. I don’t feel like a hero. I feel weak—with all the markings of a coward. How will my boys, how will Skyla ever view me as the hero I so desperately want to be in their lives? I’m not so sure Skyla will ever see anything heroic about this. But I’m here for her as much as I am for my sons. And even if she never believes me, I’m here for our people, too. If I am strong, if I can overcome Demetri’s black heart—I might just stop his madness.

  “Come,” Demetri calls us over just a few steps away from my old life and a few closer to the demon I was destined to be.

  Wes nods. “You okay, man?”

  It’s strange that over the months I’ve known him he’s starting to feel like family, like the brother he was promised to be, and even now, his concern feels genuine. It was because of him that I joined the Barricade in the first place—to keep an eye on him, to be Skyla’s eyes. What could it hurt? I would never do a thing to harm the Nephilim—until my ego landed me right where Demetri hoped—and then I broke off my love affair with darkness, only to land at the bottom of Devil’s Peak. Now I would pay the price. My soul. Perhaps that’s all a bit dramatic, but, knowing that Demetri’s influence over my future has the capacity to bring me to my knees, that the conviction I once held high and strong will one day be reduced to cinder and become the very thing I loathe, makes my stomach churn.

  “One question.” I look to Demetri. He’s not my father. He’s a DNA factory and nothing more. I feel like a frightened kid at the dentist office asking one question, just before he sinks the drill over my rotting tooth, no Novocain. “Are the consequences everlasting?” Consequences. I refuse to call it a curse, even though it is. Consequences eventually end. Curses take you down with them to the miry depths of eternity.

  Demetri looks to me, his eyes always laughing, always one-step ahead, in on the greatest secret. “You are an eternal soul, my son. Eternity is far too long to contain anything but love.”

  His words go off in my gut, first with an acidic bite, then the quiet spread of relief as it fills my body. I can read between the thorny lines. This is temporary. All of the hate, the wickedness he’s determined to fill me with will eventually evaporate to nothing—his efforts as futile in the distant future as they are now.

  “There will be no manipulation of your morals, no pulling of your heart strings as if you were a boy on a string.” His eyes sharpen over mine. My heart gives a hard thump. He heard. “You will wield your might, and you will drink your power—willingly. The shadow of doubt will flee, and you will have opened your eyes to what is just and who is in the wrong and who is in the light.”

  I don’t move—don’t show a single emotion. Demetri just spoke in one big circle—saying everything and nothing at the same time. Somewhere in that murky pit the truth is circulating. I heard it, though. I will wield my might, and I will drink my power—willingly—because love wins. That’s all I need to know for now. My heart races at the thought of this horrible nightmare one day coming to an end. When I finally do confess this disaster to Skyla, it will be t
he first thing I say.

  “And my boys—am I guaranteed their safety?”

  “Your boys—our boys”—he pauses to lap it up—“will not be under the duress of the covenant, Gage. Should they join forces with the Barricade one day, it will be of their own volition. There is no need for me to sway their hand.”

  I look to Logan, satisfied with Demetri’s answer. Nathan and Barron are safe. Their hearts are their own. They won’t side with wickedness, no matter how hard Demetri hopes this to be the case—not with Skyla as their mother, not with Logan looking after them. I’m not so sure I can trust myself to be included in the equation just yet.

  “It’s time.” Demetri pulls something that resembles a wine bottle from a slender velvet pouch, the dark glass reflects the midnight moon as it slowly glows an eerie shade of blue—Celestra blue.

  He pours a sanguine liquid into the goblet Wesley steadies in his hand.

  “Logan will imbibe,” Demetri says, filling the cup to the rim. “The covenant requires two witnesses bearing representation to the Barricade and the reformation upon us.” He hikes the bottle up a moment. “Celestra issued. ’Tis precious. My reserves are the lowest they’ve ever been.” He holds the chalice among the four of us. “This is the claret of your own beloved—Skyla’s cherished blood.”

  Shit.

  He lets the idea sink in.

  Logan shakes his head. “No way. I’m out.”

  “This blood will act as a signet for our new journey”—Demetri is undeterred by Logan’s protest—“it’s the same blood that fueled our covenant to the Barricade.” He takes the time to frown at Logan. “Procured during the time of her captivity, her blood is stored only for rituals concerning Gage. These are sacred fluids, for a sacred covenant, her blood sealing the protection of your children, Gage Oliver Edinger. Do you accept?”

  “Like I have a choice.” I glance to Logan. “If you want to take off, go ahead.”

  Wes clasps his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “I’d say the same if we didn’t need you. Gage needs you, too.”

  Logan shifts like he’s about to turn over this stone table, kick the goblet from Demetri’s hand, and spill Skyla’s blood to the ground.

  “All right,” Logan seethes at both Demetri and Wes. “Let’s hurry up and get this over with.”

  Demetri begins in on a long, terrifying chant that hums and drones into the night, scrolling out before us like the years of my life. A thick carpet of clouds dispenses over the moon, expanding over the stars as a nest of lightning circles overhead, purple and white, a dazzling show of power and might. His voice rises above the thunder, above the sizzle of electricity threatening to take us down. Demetri steps up onto the stone, and the three of us follow him as he raises the chalice, full of my precious wife’s blood, to God himself.

  “May the Lord of Glory find favor upon my son, Gage Edinger, who is willing to war against the enemy in the name of the Steel Barricade, in the name of the glorious Fems, upon the dissolution of his soul from the flesh that is mortal. At that time, the King of Glory will see fit to issue him a new body, a new incorruptible flesh built to last for all eternity. Though, in his old flesh, he broke faith with the Barricade and brought upon himself the terrible affliction—the heart of one he holds dear to turn against him and everything he thinks he stands for—in the beauty of his sacrifice to spare his own children from what he believes to be a grievous error, he has agreed to take the covenant upon his own heart, turning against what he thinks he stands for—turning against his old self and toward the warmth of the truth. All of this shall come to pass in the hour of his death, upon which his kingdom will thrive—and his heart will flourish for his true destiny, his people.” Demetri locks those dead eyes of his onto mine. “Though there will be a struggle between the powers, I assure you, son—you will be the victor.”

  Logan shoots me a quick look as if he picked up on something I didn’t. And he could have. My head is thick with self-hatred. Half of what Demetri said sailed right by me.

  “From this moment on—your God-gifted abilities have been restored. You are a Fem through and through. Power and glory and honor are yours.” Demetri raises the goblet higher, and the crown of lightning above spins faster, illuminates brighter. A stray tendril drifts down to touch the golden chalice as if it were the finger of God. “May this living sacrifice be found holy and righteous in your sight, precious Master!”

  A bolt of lightning curls around the cup like a cat and ignites Demetri like an x-ray before crackling back to the sky.

  “Let us partake of the blood of Celestra.” Demetri takes a sip and passes the chalice to Wes. He does the same and hands it carefully to Logan.

  Logan glares at the liquid until all of his anger melts away and replaces itself with sorrow. He takes a sip, wipes down his lips hard with the back of his arm, and hands it off to me.

  I can’t help but pause as I lose myself in the somber liquid. It might as well be a dark, watery grave. So much blood—all of it Skyla’s. I stare down at the inky black water as it dances in this dim light, expecting to see some hint of my own reflection, of my own betrayal—instead, I see two little boys, growing fast, morphing into young men right before my eyes. I see one of them lured to the darkness, his interest piqued, his beliefs swaying, his heart drifting further from the light. Lastly, I see the wicked glance he gives his mother.

  I don’t need to see any more. I knock back the cup and drink down every last drop, swallowing down all possibility of those boys ever turning against their mother.

  The work of Skyla’s marrow bubbles with the acids in my stomach. I thrust the goblet over the stone with a marked aggression, and the night explodes into a shower of shooting stars, of lightning that spears to the ground, stabbing the granite, through Demetri’s body, through mine.

  I step to the middle of the stone of sacrifice and lift my arms to the heavens as the electrical currents rain down from the sky, rain over my limbs, jolt me, electrify me, and walk me to the brink of this new era that awaits me.

  I lean my head back and whisper, “Skyla, I did it for you—for us—for our boys. Forgive me.”

  I know one thing.

  I can never truly forgive myself.

  So it Begins

  LOGAN

  The groaning of the pines—I try to focus on the way the evergreens whip their branches against the night, the pepper of rain beginning to fall, anything but the fact the boy I grew up with, the one I proudly call brother has lightning coursing through his veins, his hands raised to heaven, begging a quiet forgiveness I’m not sure he will ever receive. My heart weeps for him—weeps for Skyla. I never knew it would be this unbearable. If only I could rewind time, take us back to that fateful day Skyla Laurel Messenger set foot inside the bowling alley, both of our tongues wagging at the sight of her, I would make sure everything was done differently. I could reason with Gage, with Skyla, with the punk kid that I was at the time. I could. But a part of me knows not one of us would listen. Somehow, we would still end up at this juncture of our lives, right here on this stone of sacrifice, with the power of the living God raining down his terror over us. If only—if only we could go back to the start. Although this rings reminiscent of the night he gave his life to the Barricade, this is one covenant Gage can never break—he wouldn’t want to in an effort to shield his children. Demetri found a way to lure Gage right into the bear trap he set out for him the moment he was conceived. But Demetri is no victor. I’ll make sure of that.

  A primal scream comes from beyond the thicket as hundreds of bodies erect from the ground. A cry of terror rises from them, followed by a howl of delight as Demetri encourages the crowd to give into wild cheers, cries of ecstasy, of inhuman pleasure, at the sight of Gage Oliver Edinger ringed in a bolt of lightning. It is a vision. That I cannot contest.

  I recognize a few of the jackals jumping and pumping their fists at my nephew. My lungs seize up. Every one of these bastards was placed in the tunnels by Skyla, Ellis, Brody, and m
e. And shit. Demetri just hit the Reset button.

  “A celebration of the ages is unfolding.” His voice is calm, yet unmistakably loud as a megaphone. “Let us feast the night away. I hereby proclaim your freedom by the power vested in me. The hour of the Dragon is upon us. The age of the Serpent has arrived.”

  I jump over to the wicked demon and shake him like a rattle. “What the fuck? You said the curse wouldn’t kick in until after his death, not one second sooner.” Saliva pulls across my face as I struggle to spit the words out.

  Demetri glances down at my fists cuffed to his shirt. “Hands off.”

  A jolt of pain sprays through me, and I drop him.

  “The hour tarries.” He glares at me a moment before broadening his ever-present grin. “Welcome to the feast of the covenant. If you find the celebration offensive, I suggest you leave the premises.” He jumps off the stone and strides toward his estate, and the wicked crowd follows along. The lightning ceases and lands Gage face-first onto the granite below.

  Wes turns him over and helps him sit up. “You okay, man?”

  “I’m good.” Gage gets up, staggers for a minute before righting himself.

  “You did good.” Wes pulls him, whispering something into his ear before grafting his discontent over me. “I’ll see you at the party.” He takes off after his father and the rowdy crowd. Tenebrous is empty. It seems there is a growing list of the things Skyla will be pissed about this evening.

  “What’d he say?” I’m only half-curious.

  “He said ‘welcome to the light.’” Gage and I stare one another down, stuck on the stone as if our feet were rooted into it.