The Serpentine Butterfly Read online

  “And we’re leaving.” I scoop Skyla out of Dudley’s arms without asking permission and head out of the monstrous castle.

  Coop follows and nods to me as I place Skyla back onto solid ground.

  “Skyla”—Coop takes her by the hand—“why don’t you show me the old lab? Ezrina mentioned something about checking the tanks next time I had the chance.”

  “Yeah, sure.” She shudders as if waking from a dream. Skyla slips her hand over her stomach and closes her eyes a moment too long. “I might need to find a bush to puke in first. Those burgers aren’t sitting too well with me.” She offers a shy smile before they take off toward Ezrina’s old lair.

  I didn’t think the burgers were that great of an idea, at least not in that quantity. Once Skyla and Coop drown in darkness, I head back inside, and Chloe cuts me off before I can head into the grand room. I know for a fact that Laken is probably sweet-talking Wes into giving her as much information as possible. A few months back, he manipulated her into kissing him in an effort to shut down the tunnels. It weighed heavy on her to end that carnal madness ever since her own sister and mother were trapped down there with Counts sucking off their necks as if they were water coolers. Coop forgave Laken for kissing Wes. It’s pretty easy to see that her heart is steadfast for Cooper Flanders, so much so that she’s about to take his name and become his wife.

  Chloe slaps me over the chest with both of her hands as if rebuffing a sexual advance.

  “How haven’t you found him yet?” Chloe is incensed as if I’ve purposely slacked in my search for Gage.

  A flash of last night’s lovemaking jolts through my mind again. Okay, that might qualify as slacking.

  Her eyes glow bright as flames. Now that she’s no longer on the planet proper, Chloe has garnered physical morphing capabilities. She’s taken Ezrina’s old form, and, in doing so, she’s morphed right back to herself—a new and improved version with longer, darker, stronger hair, more demanding eyes, her face far more cutting and beautiful than that of her earthly countenance, although that too was stunning. I thought I could love Chloe once. I slept with her in high school. It was stupid. Her heart was set on Gage even then.

  “How haven’t you found him?” I turn the question around. Skyla might have come to lure information out of Wes, but my intentions were set on Chloe all along and her obsessive Gage-shaped heart. “Where is he, Chloe? You are a master of his whereabouts. Gage might be dead, but he still needs to be with his family.”

  “I don’t care about his family.” Her eyes flash like mirrors in the sun. Chloe steps in and brings her finger to my cheek, running it down my neck throbbingly slow. “Maybe just you—a little.” She smirks. “Besides, Gage can’t be dead. I need him. I need him to see my precious baby.” She cradles her still flat stomach. Chloe is with child. I don’t know the specifics, and I’m not gunning for them either. The kid belongs to Wes. I’m guessing that’s hard for Laken. Speaking of which, I try to brush by Chloe, and she blocks me off at the pass.

  “I can find him for you—I swear I can.” Her voice strings out the words with urgency.

  “But?” I slip my hands into my back pockets and wait for it. I can’t quite pinpoint the last time Chloe asked a favor of me, but I’m guessing it wasn’t good then, and it isn’t good now.

  “But I might need your help.”

  “Shit.” I motion for her to move it along.

  “I’m having these cravings.” Her neck bends back. Her eyes roll into her head like some devilish doll. “I need at least six Burger Shack double doubles, extra cheese, extra pickles. And throw in a Neapolitan shake. Oh hell, make it two. I fucking hate sharing with Wes.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Deadly.”

  “Would you like some fries with that?” There’s no reason for heavy sarcasm when Chloe makes it so simple.

  “Hell yes! Make it two large chili fries. I might as well go for the gold.”

  “I was being facetious, Chloe. You’ve got Wes for that. He has both a license to thrive and drive on Paragon. There’s no reason he can’t make those burger runs for you.”

  I manage to step past her, and this time she pulls me back by the sleeve.

  “Are you kidding? He’s a real-life burger miser. All he wants me to eat are carrots and celery. Do I look like a deer to you? I’m a carnivore! I need red-blooded meat to survive, not to mention to feed his wicked spawn.”

  My lips cinch tight in the event an easy dig decides to plume out.

  “So, I make the food run, and you’ll find Gage?”

  She gives a furtive nod like that of a compliant child. Who knew hostage negotiations for Gage would heavily hinge on the Burger Shack menu? They should change their slogan. The Burger Shack, rich in cholesterol and negotiating power!

  “All right. Deal.” I make my way past her into the grand room to find Wes and Laken whispering near the fireplace. Dudley is busying himself with staring at the rolling blue stone in the center of the room. It’s a fountain of some sort, a globe made of granite bobbing in a pool of water. The globe itself stands about four feet tall, and there’s a slight moat around the entire unit while the sphere spins in a continual cool wash. “What do you see?”

  “I see nothing. This is a portal of darkness. I wouldn’t expect it to open to me, a creature of light. Have you said your peace? I’ve business to tend to in another century.”

  “Let me talk to Wes, and we’ll head out. Skyla and Coop are in the lab, checking out the tanks. Why don’t you round them up, and we’ll take off?”

  “Very well.” He heads for the exit.

  “Dudley.” He pauses and turns—his constant annoyance with me perpetually visible. “Fair warning, you’ll have to put off any light drives you have planned for the evening. We’re heading to Ahava to visit Candace.”

  His chest expands as he sets his sights on an invisible horizon. “Absolutely no good will come of this.”

  “I didn’t think so.” I head over to Wes and step between him and the flame of his heart, Laken.

  “Logan,” Wes says with a marked disdain while still holding Laken’s gaze. “I want to be clear about something.”

  It’s an unnerving thing to have someone speak to you, with that aggressive tone no less, without having them look at you.

  He sighs deeply, still staring her down as if this directly involved her. And, knowing Wes, it does. Wesley is as obsessed with Laken as Chloe is with Gage. Oddly, with him looking like Gage, and Chloe morphing into Laken in her spare time, it only sponsors a peculiar brand of hell for the two of them.

  “What is it you need to be clear about?” I try not to sound exasperated.

  “I’m as deeply saddened as anyone regarding my brother. But in no way am I responsible for the tragedy that befell Gage. I can’t get in touch with my father. I’ve tried. When I do, I’ll make sure he touches base with Skyla. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Sounds good.” I nod Laken over toward the door. No use in negotiating with the devil. It’s bad enough I’ve already promised Chloe a side of charred beef.

  “And Logan—” Wes bows his head slightly. His green eyes are the only distinguishing factor between him and Gage. It’s eerie, unnerving, and for a second, I entertain the thought that he’s somehow absorbed him. “I really am sorry.”

  Before I can say anything, he steps in, those lucent eyes painfully piercing through mine.

  Wes gives the impression of a wicked grin. “And I’m sorry for what’s about to become of the rest of you.”

  Laken lifts her head toward him. “Just out of curiosity, Wes, what could we have ever done to have avoided any of this?” She’s pissed, curious, but pissed. “If we had all joined the Barricade from the beginning, would that have really been enough?”

  Wes stares into the fire a few seconds too long. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” He turns toward her fully, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Because I still wouldn’t have you.”

  I usher Laken t
he hell out of there, and we meet up with Dudley, Skyla, and Coop outside.

  “Where to now?” Coop takes Laken back into his arms and swipes a kiss over her cheek as if he just pulled her from a fire.

  “You’re headed home to Host, my friend.” I look to Skyla, my beautiful girl whom I would melt the universe to cinders for. In that respect, I understand Wesley’s pain, his roiling frustration. “We, however, are headed to Ahava.”

  Skyla takes my hand, her thumb rubbing a quick circle over my palm, and I’m not sure how to read it. “After you, my Elysian.”

  A dull smile rides over my lips as Dudley whisks us out of darkness and off through time and dimensions, through the material world and into the spiritual. My thoughts shield themselves from her in the event I enter into a play-by-play of those heated hours we shared. It’s true. I am Skyla’s Elysian—her guide in the spiritual realm, at least as far as the Counts are concerned. I was once her husband, and according to Candace, will be again, but last night I was her lover, and that’s the title I’d take down heaven and Earth for. If Wesley feels even a fraction of that diehard angst I do toward Skyla, then Celestra, all of the Nephilim, and all of mankind are in a hell of a lot of trouble.

  3

  Fruit of the Rose

  SKYLA

  My father once said that time is circular—a constant river that flows in and out of itself. People think it’s linear, that one day progresses to the next, but it’s merely an illusion, the sun rising, the sun setting, the moon cut and quartered for all to see—it’s all a play on a single moment in time. We age, we move, we parcel out activities that feel as if we’re marching on, but it’s the same day, same God’s breath repeated on a loop. People enter and exit this realm at all hours, every day, week, month, and year. The comings and the goings are endless. The bold entrances, the grand departures—those are the crowning moments, not the idolized sentiments we fill the interim with. It is a miracle you arrive on this planet. It is a miracle you exit—a dark miracle, but a miracle nonetheless. Gage is somewhere here or there, conscious either way—I’m hoping in flesh clothes, tucked warm and safe somewhere as the treasure he is to both Demetri and me. I knew if I couldn’t protect him, the only other being that could was that demon I dread to call upon. Desperation makes you do strange things. And now, I’m about to embark on another one of those odd adventures.

  Ahava forms around us. The tiered falls sparkle just past the expansive crystalline lake. My mother and her three cohorts that form the rest of the Decision Council sit firm above the water hoisted up in their glassy thrones. There is the long-haired, one-eyed delight, Rothello, who proclaimed the Faction War in my honor. I’ll refrain from name calling at the moment since my thoughts are not entirely my own in this sphere. Then, there are the Marshall twins who flank her on either side—two alarmingly stunning Sectors much like the one holding my hand at the moment, although Marshall is in a class all by himself. He’s perfection, sublime, with just the right touch of arrogance to make any girl swoon.

  “I heard that, and I approve of your summation.” He gives my hand a squeeze.

  “I figured you would.” I quickly untangle our fingers before turning to my Elysian. “Logan, use your sensibilities.” Confession, I had to grapple with that last word. What I really want is for Logan to charm my mother senseless until she vomits up Gage like I did those cheeseburgers back in the Transfer. Funny thing is, no sooner did I puke onto the dry, cracked soil of that jackal haunt than an entire crop of red-tipped mushrooms sprouted. Coop thought they might mean something, so he tucked a few away in his pocket. The thought is disgusting enough to make me want to retch again.

  “My sensibilities.” He gives a crooked smile, and that longitudinal dimple I gifted him inverts. I cut Logan once with a bottle. It was after a fight, and I’ve regretted it ever since, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit it only added to his good “sensibilities.” My mother herself isn’t impervious to Logan’s appeal. I only wish she cared for Gage or even me a fraction as much.

  The air tingles, the breeze moves in swiftly, and the sand swirls around our feet as my mother materializes at the shoreline in a sparkle-filled fog—her own rendition of Glinda the Good Witch of the South.

  “I am not a witch.” Her expression sours—correction, my expression. My mother is my exact representation. I’m a carbon copy minus a few millennium and superpowers removed. “And, you have all my powers, Skyla.” She gives an impish grin. “Were you unaware of that?”

  I hate that she can read my thoughts here. My brain cramps up just trying to erect a wall to keep her out.

  “All your powers?” I’m stumped by the idea. “Let me guess. They’re disabled?”

  “Harsh verbiage.” She turns and offers a coy smile to Logan, her chief pet.

  “Skyla,” she purrs as if reprimanding me. “What brings the three of you to Oz?” That smile of hers sours, and she’s right back to being her curt self. It looks as if Logan’s charming sensibilities only go so far.

  Marshall lifts his chin. “We came to see if the wizard is a wizard who will serve.”

  “Very funny.” I offer a light smack to his arm. “Gage is dead.” I step toward my mother. My eyes lock onto her crystal orbs and don’t let go. “And missing.”

  “Oh dear.” Her brows hike an inch. “It appears you have quite the conundrum. And you need me to locate the body?”

  “No. We need you to resurrect the body,” I correct.

  “Speak for yourself,” Marshall adds with that same look of boredom he’s worn throughout this entire ordeal.

  I barrel on without acknowledging him. “Point the way, and I’ll get Gage myself. Where’s that rat-faced Fem hiding out?” I look over her shoulder as if I might actually see Demetri clogging up precious Ahava real estate. “Just make this better, and I will do whatever you please.” Demetri is the only one who’s taken me up on this offer so far. It’s true. I would do anything to have Gage alive once again, including putting him right back in this mysterious predicament with his father. Demetri will prove to be a saint if I get Gage back, warm and breathing.

  “Let me see.” She retreats within herself for a moment, her expression sober, the look in her eye distant and foggy. “Skyla. This simply isn’t my jurisdiction. Sector Marshall, you’re more than equipped to handle the situation from here. Make yourself useful, would you? I must get going. The yearlings are running.”

  “Is it that time of year again?” Marshall bounces on his feet, delighted by this nonsensical turn of events. “I do miss the pomp and circumstance surrounding opening day.”

  “It really is a treasure.” My mother offers him a wink, and it more than weirds me out.

  A slow boiling rage enlivens me. “Look, I’m really glad you’ll get to feast your winking eyes on a bunch of baby horses running amuck, but your daughter’s husband just passed away—as in major life-altering crisis marked by horrendous torrents of grief. How about an I’m so sorry, Skyla! Oh my goodness, I’ll go pluck him from eternity so you can say a proper goodbye! Or Let me make this better, baby girl, by breathing life back into his body right this fucking minute. But, no! You have yearling races to get to!” My voice hits a crescendo just as Logan secures his arm around my waist. “And here I thought Marshall was being rather cold-hearted about the entire event.”

  “Ms. Messenger!” he crows, but I don’t bother acknowledging him.

  My mother and I lock eyes. It’s like staring down my own reflection, and then a thought occurs to me. There’s something cold and disconnected in her gaze and…

  “Oh my God,” I whisper. “Are you even on my side?”

  “What side?” She shakes her head incredulously as if the concept were the most ridiculous thing in the heavens.

  “Celestra’s side, the good side, the side not affiliated with the Steel Barricade, i.e., Wesley Edinger’s ploy for power.”

  “Is Wesley at it again?” Her cheek pulls back just enough to get a rise out of me.

&
nbsp; “Oh, wow, you’re not even hiding it. You are mocking me! You know damn well Gage is no longer on the planet. You were the same way during the Faction War, and now you’re being just as elusive and coy as ever. What was the purpose of having me? What is the purpose of having this relationship?”

  Something in her darkens. “I never sought you out, Skyla.”

  And there it is. The Celestial slap in the face.

  I take in a sharp breath. Those words were mean, cruel as a kick in the teeth.

  “That’s right,” I whisper. “You didn’t care to. You dumped me into Lizbeth Landon’s arms and took off for greener celestial pastures. Are you going to help me get Gage or not?” I’m sick of beating around the ethereal bush.

  “No. And to set the record straight, I did not dump you in Lizbeth Landon’s arms. I had the Fems and the Counts set my feet to flames until I succumbed. Something only Logan would fully understand.” Her nostrils flare at me. “Gage Oliver is not of my concern at the moment, nor do I see that changing in the foreseeable future.” She glances to Logan.

  A hard groan crawls right out of my throat. “I get it. You’re waiting it out until Logan has a turn at bat, and then you’ll be all over my business. Is that right? You’ll tune in when The Skyla Show takes a dramatic Oliver plot twist.”

  “I am vested in Logan, yes.” Her lips turn down at the tips when she says it. My mother turns to him fully; any look of pleasure is wiped from her face. In fact, she’s downright glaring at him. “I know what you have done,” she says the words slow and staggered as if he were responsible for the greatest offense.

  Whatever Logan has “done,” she’s not too pleased with it. For whatever the reason, she’s lost that sparkle in her eyes while ogling the Golden Oliver.

  She continues, “What I am not vested in is this conversation. Skyla, I am deeply sorry that your heart is broken. That is a very real hurt that no one can cradle but you. As for altering destinies, I’m simply not in the mood, nor do I find it necessary.” She examines me up and down with a scrutinizing stare. “Please take care of your health. Get plenty of rest, and for goodness’ sake, drink a glass of water once in a while, will you?”