Chapter FOURTEEN
Butterfly couldn’t take it anymore, she needed to tell Pain so he could be prepared for the worst. Why did she think she could ever have a baby after everything? Because miracles that’s why, she remembered. She believed in them. All the way. And if this was a test of faith, she was there for it. She trusted God to do what had to be done, He was the Bossman there. If He chose to give her a child despite her past, then praise God. And if He decided it wasn’t the best idea, praise God there too. That was the deal with trusting God. There were no wrong outcomes. Disappointment, yes. She could handle that. She had to.
“What are you doing?” one of the Sisters gasped when she moved to get up.
“I need to talk to my husband. Who has a phone?”
They literally all produced one from the pockets of their habits. She took Lucy’s since she flew to where she sat on Harlow’s couch like an invalid. She thought it was cute that they wore their work clothes even while having lavish wardrobes. She didn’t have to ask to know their habits were like teddy bears they slept with. Same way she felt about her long dresses. Just a familiar, faithful friend, always there in all the darkest times.
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until we know for sure?” Lucy whispered as Butterfly tried to remember his number.
She lowered the phone to her lap, eyeing her sweet, concerned face. “I can’t, Lucy. He’s already gonna feel responsible on top of feeling unworthy. He’ll see this as the hand fate dealt him because he thinks he’s evil incarnate. And I’ve been working too hard reversing that lie in his head for him to be sideswiped like that.”
She nodded and Butterfly noticed something off in her gaze. “What’s wrong, honey?”
She gave a quick shake of her head. “Nothing. I can tell.”
“Nothing you can tell.” She angled her head. “Nothing you can tell?”
Her chest rose and fell with whatever she hid.
“Who can tell me if not you?”
Her eyes closed and she faced away from her. “One of...the men have to.”
Sudden dread jerked her stomach. “Lucy, what’s going on? Do you have Harlow’s number on here?”
She nodded.
“Get it up for me. Please.” She intentionally left zero room for argument in her tone.
“I dialed it,” she said, handing it back to her with a look of terror that twisted Butterfly’s stomach.
“Hey baby, how you holding up?”
“It’s Butterfly,” she announced.
“Ohhh, hey...Lucy,” he said, as she got up from the couch and paced, hearing voices in the background. “Who’s with you? Where are you?”
“I’m in Pain’s room. Still.”
Panic slammed her. “Does he know? About me bleeding?”
“He does.”
“Oh God,” she whispered, covering her mouth. “Who all is there?” she asked.
“Uhhh, same as before.”
“So, Lucy knows whatever the hell you’re not telling me?”
“Yyyes,” he muttered with a defeated sigh.
“Is that Quantum I hear?”
“It is. He returned when we told him you were bleeding,” he said quietly.
Her pulse hammered in her chest as she fought the need to be sick about whatever was going on. It wasn’t good, that much she knew. “I can’t do this, Harlow. Whatever is going on, I can’t do it. If you’re keeping something from me to protect me, I’m gonna be so fuckin’ pissed. Is it about Pain? What’s going on with him? He’s been acting off and I’ve been thinking it’s just him worrying about the pregnancy.”
“Quantum wants to be the one to tell you.”
She paused her steps, confused. “Why Quantum?”
“He just feels...it’s only right for it to come from him since...he feels responsible.”
She rubbed her shaking fingers over her forehead, back to pacing, only faster now. “You got me curious now,” she said, her voice shaking. “Do I need to go over there to hear it or is he coming here?”
“Please, you should sit in your condition,” one of the Sisters pled next to her.
“He wants everybody there for this.”
“Everybody? The Sisters too?”
“No, just us.”
No no no no. “Nah, I can’t do this. If I’m not losing our baby, then I’d like to protect it if it’s all the same. Give the phone to Pain. I need to hear he’s okay.”
“Boom-Boom,” he whispered. “I need you to calm down and listen to me.”
She hung up the phone and headed out the door then paused, looking back over her shoulder, wiping her tears. “I’m going find out what’s going on. Would you all...come with me? Please?”
They nodded and flocked behind her. “We will be with you sister,” one of them swore. “No matter what happens,” Celeste assured next to her, wiping her own tears.
“I THINK SHE’S HEADED over here,” Harlow announced, turning every head. “Butterfly. That was her, she’s uh...ready to know whatever needs knowing. She knows something’s up.”
Kult wanted to snap his neck. “Thanks to all the sister’s knowing.”
“There’s no helping that, they’re fuckin’ symbiotic.”
“Isla,” Quantum said quietly, turning with his phone. “I need you to get the Sisters and take them somewhere while we speak to Butterfly. Harlow’s quarters. Okay. Thank you.”
He hung up and joined the eyeing of the door, like they waited for a zombie invasion. He’d fucking rather that than this.
“Fuck,” Quantum growled, showing them his phone screen.
They all hurried over and saw Butterfly walking down the hall with a flock of nuns behind her.
“Bruh,” Harlow warned. “She’s coming with heavenly forces. We are so fucked.”
“At least it’ll be done,” Kult said, ready to have it over with.
Pain got in front of the door and placed both hands on the jamb. Fuck, what was going through his head? Kult couldn’t handle seeing him lose his shit.
The pound on the door finally came. He opened it and caught Butterfly in his arms wrapping her up tight. He was absorbing it. Kult paced while watching him, sure darkness never looked more beautiful than when he wielded it to protect their Butterfly.
“Let me go,” she wept.
“No,” he swore.
“Rookie, let me go,” she ordered in his chest.
“Never, Mistress,” he strained as he held on to her.
“Pain,” she wept against him. “I don’t want Quantum telling me, I want you to.”
“Okay baby,” he said. “I’ll tell you. And I’ll take it from you.”
“Just do it,” she begged.
The nuns crowded in behind her, all fighting to put their hands on her and even Pain, their hushed prayers a rustle of power riding his skin like hot fingers.
He watched Pain’s mouth lower to her ear and Kult’s breath stuck in his chest.
“What?” Butterfly gasped. “I...I don’t...How, how is that possible?”
He whispered more as he pet her head, every second layered with dread as they all waited to breathe.
The first sob tore from her chest, and it felt like his soul ripped right out of him. He closed his eyes as another one came, straining out of her, jagged and sharp as Pain cooed sounds in her ear. Then came the long, broken scream with that one fucking word—“Why?” Over and over it tore from her, each one packed with confusion and betrayal. Pain so cutting, it made him need to kill, make it fucking stop.
He made his way to Quantum and Harlow, meeting the fury in both their gazes. “I want you to create Handy’s body,” Kult muttered.
Sync and Atlas joined them.
“Fucking why?” Harlow grit at him.
Kult’s need for bloodshed made his pallet tingle as he eyed him. “To kill him.”
Vengeance darkened Harlow’s gaze as he turned to Quantum. “Are you capable with your directive?”
He considered it. “I’m only capable of creating him,” he said, sounding pissed. “But the law within me says an eye for an eye is permitted in his punishments.”
“How the hell do we accomplish that?” Atlas wondered. “He didn’t just lie about who the baby was for, he lied that there was a baby. What exactly do they have on the books for that kind of evil?”
“Depending on which books you’re going by,” Quantum said. “I go by the higher law, those that the universe demand I meet.”
Harlow shook his head. “And where the hell did you learn that?”
“It’s ingrained in every atom in this universe. You gave me a directive, you didn’t specify what governed it. But as I’ve said, the universe amply provides this.”
“Well, shit yeah,” Harlow agreed, half relieved, half cautious. “So, what are we allowed?”
“He created a false life, and he took it away. What do you think I’m allowed to do?”
Kult wasn’t sure where the giga slash humanity divide happened in his AI brother. “If you don’t mind, spell it out for all the dummies here.”
“I can give him a real body, then just like he did, snap it from existence.”
“As long as I can kill him out of existence, I’m not picky about the rest of the particulars,” Kult muttered, very happy with this idea.
“When?” Harlow eagerly wondered.
King eyed Pain and Butterfly. “As soon as that doorway is clear.”
“I’ll clear it,” Sync said.
Atlas followed him. “I’ll help.”
“WE NEED TO TAKE THE elevator, it’s faster,” Harlow said as they hurried with the hunk of junk down the hall, looking over his shoulder for nuns.
“I want him in one of the Anvil Chambers.”
Harlow nodded, liking that. “Just in case he tries something, and I’m damn sure he will.”
“What’s an Anvil Chamber?” Atlas whispered, also keeping a look out.
“One of the converted dungeons,” Harlow huffed as he ran ahead and pressed the button on the elevator. “We intend to convert all of them into holding rooms for soldiers during trial phases.”
“They’re impenetrable and inescapable,” Quantum added as they squeezed into the elevator.
“What the fuck is this armor made of?” Kult said, fighting with the metal limbs as they crammed into the small box.
“It’s not the armor, it’s the high-density nanomaterials that are layered with neural interfaces that interact with the armor,” Quantum said.
Harlow hit the button leading to the floor below ground, getting a code request. “Since when?” he cried.
“Since we have unpredictable guests,” Quantum said, flying his fingers over the keypad.
The door shut and they all stood there, catching their breath as they descended.
“So he’s a real tin man,” Sync marveled quietly.
The elevator stopped and the door opened. Harlow peered out, making sure the coast was clear before leading them to the next door going down. His excitement grew with every step, along with his impatience. Fuck, they needed to hurry before he found a way to escape. Bet he was currently wriggling all up in that metal.
“Put him on the table in the adjoining room,” Quantum said when they arrived, hurrying to the control station on the other side of the cell’s titanium infused glass. It would be like a birthing tomb. You were born in it, then you died in it. Super convenient.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. “Bruh, hurry. Pretty sure this fake Dr. Ubaldo calling me is Handy.”
“Do not answer it,” Quantum said. “Not until I get him locked into his new life.”
ANTICIPATION BATTER-rammed the steel walls lining Vex’s mind as the meeting got underway. The two-month mark had arrived, and all things Bat Bite related would finally be revealed. To avoid contaminating influences, it was decided the results would be kept under wrap till the end of the expansion. It was one of many items to be discussed but he was sure it held first place in the list. Rukem’s Scape finally being fully cracked was at a tie with Zodak’s situation. After two months of passive siphoning Zen, her darkness remained with zero signs of change. But now that they found this Doctor Harlow, hopefully he’d provide insight that would make a difference. Vex was positive this individual had never encountered anything like their brother which meant he’d no doubt need to examine the situation in person. This added another layer of anticipation regarding these Quantum Kings who none of them had ever heard of. The sort of things they’d supposedly achieved had all their gifts salivating to explore.
At the moment, they were on Dr. David’s speechless astonishment regarding Rukem’s network of bridges he’d faithfully added to every night in his sleep—until a week ago. This seemed to imply whatever he was subconsciously up to was now complete. They’d moved on to what in the hell did it all mean and how was it connected to the coins?
The Marsh Kings were now arriving in waves, bearing their side of the updates. This time the celebrations would take place at their facilities and all the school was invited—at the Belle Eveque’s adamant insistence. She was now a celebrity among their students and faculty.
“Where is Zodak?” Skull asked.
“With Zen,” Nidev said. “He asked to be excused.”
“Is there a problem?” Vex wondered.
Nidev’s sigh wasn’t a good sign. “Nothing urgent. Dr. Ubaldo is waiting for a call back from the Quantum King.”
Vex considered calling Jolynn to see if she was still bringing Rosavelt to the evening festivities after. She’d made quite a few friends her age, all very brilliant children that were perfect influences for her and her, them. It had been an odd two months following the bite debacle. He’d forbidden himself to see either of them until he was certain all bat strains had left his system. A whole week later, he took a chance only to learn they’d hidden like a dormant lust fiend. He’d gone from pushing her out of his thoughts, to finding reasons to call her to fantasizing what might have happened had he acted on any of the sexual impulses that had possessed him. And since that latter obsession never left, he was getting mildly concerned with encountering her that evening. Especially since she’d made it abundantly clear in their passing conversations that she’d decided it was time to move on and live again, which meant being open to dating. A major problem given he was no less obsessed with keeping her to himself than he had been the night he’d claimed her while out of his mind.
Just how he’d managed to finish off that dreadful night was some sort of miracle. But the most important things had been accomplished. He hadn’t raped her or killed a brother and the revealing of little Rosavelt’s paintings saved the entire night. Vex had been elated to find what he’d hoped. The abstract expressions held depths no child could possibly fathom and yet she did, and with cheap acrylics on second-hand canvases no less. Her mother had no idea how truly gifted she was. He’d purchased four of them at ten thousand dollars apiece. A ridiculous steal, he’d assured them.
“I hear their bat-ties are a blast,” Thakx said, getting Vex’s attention.
“I recall mention of this in the tour,” Nidev marveled. “They have actual grounds where they perform this.”
“And all go to watch,” Skul nodded. “A charming little backwoods Roman Colosseum.”
“What is this, Bat-tie?” Dr. David wondered now.
“A Cajun term for a friendly fight. To settle civil disputes.”
“Really,” the Dr. mused, his soft brown eyes filling with equal portions of interest and mild disgust, tempting Vex to laugh.
“I’ll need to check my email for my Nouvelle,” Skul said.
“Nouvelle.” Nidev regarded him. “I don’t recall that one.”
“Their little monthly newspaper they nail to a tree in each hatch. I got my Marsh Mate to take a pic and send it to me so I can remain up to date with the Southern Swamp’s comings and goings as he calls it.”
“Who’s your mate again?” Vael asked.
“The Giga-Chad,” Skul bragged.
“Lucky bastard,” Dalk muttered. “I have the one in love with all things firearm related.”
“Surely he who entangles himself in ropes is by far the miracle of our Marsh Kings.”
Vex chuckled at Kael. “I hear his wife is the greatest trap he’s ever set.”
“And stepped in,” Feral marveled. “Deliberately. Fate was fucking furious. That’s what my Marsh Mate said. Spar.”
“He would know,” Nidev remembered, eyeing all of them. “I’m not altogether sure what these grins on your faces mean but let it be well established there will be no foolery regarding matters of such magnitude among the Creole Kings.”
“If ever I were to suffer such a fatal glitch, these Marsh brothers have learned my lesson for me,” Feral assured.
“And I,” Thakx said. “I’ll take facts and algorithms any day over that.”
“It’s how my 8-Bit Mate picked his,” Skul said. “And as far as I can see, a match made in the heavens.”
“There you have it,” Thakx proved.
When the final Marsh King took their seat, Nidev stood and gave his laborious welcome speech. The labor was purely on the receiving end of the King’s love for words at every turn in an event. To him speech was a key that could unlock the dormant abilities he believed resided in all humans, making them capable of accomplishing anything. He also thought they had the power to create gifted people. Like a man mining gold, he cast his carefully crafted word nets, hoping to unearth a gifted yield. He couldn’t fault him for the passion, but it had its thorns. And only those who were already unlocked suffered their pricks. For Vex, less was best and to Nidev, more was a door.