Chapter VI. All Butterflies #2
“We clenched our jaw at that, and I found I could no longer meet her eyes. Instead, we snaked upright, turning away. Dior was showing us kindness, and truth told, we were unused to kindness. Glancing up, I saw that shadow on the glass again, distant, but waiting.
“Watching.
“‘I’m not sure what to make of you, Celene.’ Dior sighed. ‘One moment, you seem a monster. The fanatic who tried to murder her own brother. The next, I start to think you might genuinely care. Not just about this world, but about the people in it. About me.’
“We turned back then, meeting her eyes. ‘I do.’
“‘Thing is, I don’t even know who I’m talking to right now.
One moment, you call yourself I and the next we, and I’m not sure I understand the difference.
Are you … you? Or are you all the lives you’ve stolen?
Gabe’s baby sister? Liathe of the Esana?
Are you a cannibal bloodwitch from a cult of vampire heretics, or just a girl who got dragged into something a thousand times bigger than she could ever be, wondering how the hell she got here?
’ Dior scoffed then, sadness in her smile. ‘I can sympathize with that one.’
“I looked down at our hand. Pale as marble. Hard as granite.
“‘When I was little, my papa told me it was the fate of all Castias to bear the burden of this life on their shoulders, that others might be spared it. Steel rusts, he said. Ice melts. But stone stands. Little Mountain, he called me. And so I am. Unbreakable. Unchangeable.’
“‘Everything changes, Celene. I’m not old, but I’m old enough to know that.’
“‘Nothing truly changes, Dior. Not truly.’
“But she only shook her head, stubborn and fierce and so very young. ‘Joaquin Marenn was a houndboy. Now he’s a holy warrior. I was a whorechild. Now I’m Scion of Heaven.
Aaron and Baptiste. Phoebe. Even Gabe … God, especially Gabe.
Sometimes life changes us for the better.
Sometimes the worse. But everything under the sky is in the process of becoming something else.
Something new. This is a world of butterflies, Celene. ’
“She shrugged.
“‘We’re all butterflies.’
“I looked her over then. This girl from the gutters of Lashaame. This Godling from the pages of prophecy. Pale skin and ashen hair. Mangled hand and iron will. She’d never even seen a true dawn.
Only seventeen years beneath this blackened sun.
I wondered how she knew what a butterfly was at all. And yet …
“‘You’ve become quite profound of late, Dior Lachance. We will admit that.’
“She scoffed. ‘Rising from the dead will have that effect on a girl.’
“We chewed the torn flesh of our lip then, meeting her eyes. ‘Did you … When you were gone, I mean. Did you…’
“‘See anything?’
“‘Oui.’
“‘… No.’
“We sighed, sinking into a crouch, spine against the hull. We could feel the currents rolling beneath us, shadows moving slow upon that porthole glass once more.
“‘Only a matter of time before I see it myself, I suppose. When we first met, Master Wulfric told me even lionesses only get nine lives. I lost one that very night, saving my brother’s. And by my counting, I’ve spent almost all of them since.’
“‘I’d like to hear about them.’
“I looked to Dior then, found her searching what she could see of our face.
“‘You’ve told me the history of the Esana. The Red Crusade, the Charbourg’s fall, all that shite. But that story you just coughed up about your papa? That’s the first thing you’ve ever told me about yourself, you know that?’
“‘My story does not matter. Save that it is part of yours.’
“‘Bollocks. Look, I know you’ve … company in there aready’—Dior waved vaguely at our head—‘but if I’m talking true, you strike me as a little lonely, Celene. We’re on this boat fuck knows where ’til fuck knows when. So if you want to talk…’
“‘We have more important things to do than talk, Dior.’ We glanced at the blood slicked upon the timbers. ‘Teaching you how to move that again, for example.’
“‘Maybe you could take that scarf off your face?’
“I blinked, quizzical. Dior shrugged.
“‘I mean, frightening shit out of me seemed to work the last time, so…’
“I scoffed, aiming a playful kick at her shins.
The Grail yelped and rolled away across the timbers, laughing all the while.
And again, I found myself laughing with her.
As she tossed the mop of hair from her eyes and gifted me a wicked grin, I realized the voices within me had fallen quiet—as if they all found this girl as fascinating as I.
“‘Made you laugh again. I’m getting good at that.’
“‘If only you proved as adept at your other studies.’
“‘See there’s that cuntery I talked about. You know who the hell I am, don’t you?’
“I stared at the slick of red. Bright. Brilliant. Its surface so smooth it was as glass, casting a dark reflection of the timbered ceiling above us. But unlike every other mirror about me recently, I saw no shadows there.
“‘I know who you are. Gutterchild. Lightbringer. Heavensent. But it’s true you do not know me. So I propose a bargain. One that will spare me having to unveil the horrors beneath this scarf.’
“‘I was only jesting, I didn’t m—’
“I silenced her protest with a scowl and a wave.
“‘My master was cruel to me when I failed. And I failed often. But I am not the teacher he was. So rather than punish you when you fall, I shall reward you when you fly.’
“‘I already told you I prefer girls with a pulse, Castia.’
“‘You wish to hear my story, do you not?’
“‘Oui.’
“‘So I shall tell it. For every task you master, my young ’prentice, I shall tell you how Celene Castia lost one of her lives.’
“She smiled then, utterly delighted. ‘Intrigued, you may consider me.’
“We shook hands upon our bargain, Dior’s skin warm against my own, her eyes ablaze.
And if I held on a moment too long, it was only because in that moment, I felt the same; buoyed up by the light and life of her, that holy gift, that child of God, that shining piece of heaven made manifest upon this sunless earth.
“‘Come,’ we said. ‘The hour is late. You should abed.’
“But she scoffed then, scooping the teacup off the boards. ‘The only thing waiting for me in bed is the reminder there’s no one else in it. This just got far more interesting.’
“Sitting cross-legged, she set the cup upon the timbers.
“‘Let’s get back to it, Little Mountain.’”