Chapter 5
Five
Zee
A thick blanket of warm air hits my face as I enter the large glass room. The doors close behind me, shutting out the chilly autumn breeze.
“Whoa…”
Butterflies flutter around my head, one tickling my arm as it floats by.
My gaze follows it as it swirls towards the glass ceiling, between giant plants and flowers extending high above me.
I follow the path through the trees, the smell of earth and flowers energizing me as I move into the next room.
This one has dim lighting, displays of dead insects and botanicals. They're like the ones my father has on his walls. Spiders, beetles, scorpions. Too many to count, all perfectly preserved.
Insects are alive in the next room, my eyes lingering on a silver beetle that looks like a bullet, metallic and sleek. This place isn’t as creepy as I thought. It’s surprisingly enchanting.
Following the curve of the wall, I turn a corner before my feet stall, my eyes landing on the only other person in the room.
A tall man.
He stands in front of a glass enclosure, headphones over his ears.
He’s hunched over whatever’s inside, his lab coat rolled to his elbows, revealing muscled forearms. For an insect nerd, this guy clearly lifts.
A lot. He reaches a large hand into the enclosure, patiently waiting for something to climb onto his palm.
This must be the guy I need to talk to.
I approach him as he pulls his hand out of the enclosure. The closer I get, the taller he seems. By the time I’m beside him, I only reach his chest.
“Hey, I’m Zee.” I force a smile, but he doesn’t look at me, his focus unmoved. “I’m, uh, here for the interview?”
Still nothing.
My eyes drop to what's in his palm.
A butterfly, or something like one, sits in his hand. Its wings resemble a kaleidoscope. Orange, yellow, teal, violet.
I've never seen anything like it.
“Is that even real?”
My finger lands on his palm, a sharp shock running up my arm.
His head lifts.
My cheeks heat, a glob of spit lodging in my throat.
This isn’t the nerd I expected.
A clean-shaven, chiselled face. Thick lips. Big dark eyes hidden behind expensive golden frames. I can’t tell if he needs his glasses or if he’s modelling them. He pulls off his headphones before running a hand through his thick, dark hair.
Something flutters in my stomach as my eyes wander his face.
His expression is blank, like he’s still half elsewhere. As he blinks, my eyes drift back to the beauty in his palm.
It doesn’t move.
“Is it okay?”
My finger lands on his palm again, trying to touch its wing.
There isn’t a spark this time, but I hear a sharp inhale right before his hand opens.
The world slows.
I try to reach for it, but I’m too late.
It hits the floor.
Hard.
My chest tightens.
Some first impression, Zee.
They’ll never hire you now.
You’ll stay broke and cold.
“I’m sorry, I… didn’t see you.”
There's another flutter in my stomach when he speaks, his voice smooth and low. Calm. Certain, even when he pauses. He peers over his glasses, eyeing me from head to toe. Not in a creepy way. It’s like how he looked at the butterfly. Laser-focused.
“My fault.” I pull my eyes from him to the insect on the floor, now, definitely not moving. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I tried getting your attention but—”
“I should pay better attention to my surroundings.” He shakes his head, staying eerily calm despite my kill-assist.
He crouches. I follow.
“Is it alive?” I ask.
He scoops it in his hand.
I rise with him as he pulls his palm to his face. “Afraid not.”
My shoulders sink. “Great. First day here and I’ve already killed a butterfly.”
“Moth,” he corrects. “The Madagascan Sunset Moth.”
“Shit.” I wince. “That sounds rare.”
“It is." He doesn’t sound upset or mad about it. He’s factual. Thoughtful. “That’s how it goes in nature, though, isn’t it?”
“Death will all become us.”
He holds my gaze. My stomach twists.
Well, now you’re just a weirdo.
A weirdo who killed a moth.
“Kon, stop drooling."
A woman's voice cuts through the air, followed by the click of heels.
Peeling my eyes away from Moth Man, a tall woman approaches us.
She’s older, but no guy would care with how pretty she is. Flowing auburn hair, minimal makeup accentuating her picture-perfect features.
She smiles, approaching us. “But I can see why you’re stunned.”
"Anyone can see that."
Another man appears in the room next to her and… damn.
A grin spreads across his face like he can hear my thoughts. If Moth Man is unaware of his beauty, this guy flaunts it. Slick brown hair. A white shirt showing off every ripple of muscle. Strong jaw. Pouty lips. Hazel eyes that linger on me in a way that feels unapologetically flirty.
My cheeks heat as he outstretches a hand. “You must be Azalea.” When he smiles, that dimple is enough to give any girl a heart attack.
“I prefer Zee.”
Wait. Are these hotties my bosses?
The woman takes my hand before Dimples can.
“Lola,” she says. “I’m relieved to have another woman around. I thought it would be all boys applying for this position.” Her eyes linger on mine. “You look familiar. Do you go here?”
"I'd remember if she did." Dimples nudges her out of the way, taking my hand next. Warm. Firm. "I’m Konstantin. But you can call me Kon.” He winks, and my insides melt. “I see you’ve already met Atlas.” He tilts his chiselled chin towards Moth Man. “We’re a lot more fun than he is.”
“That’s why you’re here?” Moth Man or Atlas asks.
His head tilts as he scratches his chin, likely wondering if he should give this job to a moth killer.
My eyes fall to a large, deep scar running from his index finger to his thumb. It's healed, but whatever caused it left a hell of a mark.
“You really want the job?” Atlas asks.
“I tried to say that before the, uh, accident.”
Atlas blinks before Lola asks what I mean by ‘accident.’
My cheeks burn as Atlas tells her about the moth. Kon chuckles along, and I’m expecting to hear I’ve lost the gig before Lola laughs, her hand coming to my shoulder. “Happens all the time.”
Lola signals for me to follow as she leads us towards another room.
“Sorry,” she says. “We don’t get off campus much, and we thought we'd be dealing with more nerds. You don't look like a nerd."
"You guys don't either." Heat settles on my face, looking back at Kon. Atlas eyes me from a distance as we exit the room. I wince. “I really hope I didn’t fuck that.”
"Don't worry," Lola laughs. “Atlas isn’t bothered.”
Looking back, he sure doesn’t look that way. His eyes narrow at his palm, then back at me. The tightness in my chest returns.
Lola distracts me, guiding us around the Insectarium as she tells more details about the job. She gives me a tour, showing me how to check the humidity and temperatures.
“And if one of these dies.” An orange butterfly lands on her finger.
“Just scoop them up and put them on my desk. Atty might add it to the dried collection. It broke my heart the first few times it happened, but you get used to it. Even in death, they help us to learn.” She lifts her finger, and the butterfly flutters away.
“This is my favourite part,” Kon whispers as Lola leads us into a cave-like tunnel.
“This is where our bioluminescent insects live.” Lola does a twirl, pausing in the middle of the path.
The room is small, with dim lighting between almost pitch-black holes. Peeking into one, fireflies illuminate the space beyond the glass.
“This is actually pretty cool,” I say, Lola and Kon beaming at my response. They make the job sound stupid-easy.
“Then let’s talk business.” Lola leads us to Atlas’s office. It’s as clean as the rest of the space, save for coffee cups spilling out of the recycling. A warm cedar scent fills the room, mingling with the leather from the chairs that Lola forms into a circle.
Atlas joins us, closing the door with his clipboard in hand. He still looks distracted as I settle into the stiff chair, my eyes wandering the space. There's nothing personal in the room. Just more plants and framed insects.
Lola sits next to me. “Before we continue, I want to say I’m sorry about your father.”
A pang hits my chest, hard and hot.
“He was a good guy,” Kon says, sitting in the seat on my other side. “You have our condolences.”
I shrug, slumping into my seat. “I didn’t know him.”
Atlas sits across from me, and he still looks tall as fuck. “But, you’re in his home.”
“It was in the will.” No money. No insurance. No other heirlooms. Just the house and whatever’s in it.
“How are you settling in?” Atlas asks, a lock of dark hair falls over one eye as he tilts his head.
“Fine?” I arch a brow.
“Do you have everything you need?”
“I need this job.”
“You got it,” Kon says, looking between his colleagues. “I think I speak for us all when I say we’d love to have you on the team.”
Lola squeals. “When can you start?”
Holy shit.
That was it?
“How old are you?” Atlas asks.
“Twenty-two,” I reply, Atlas’s mouth tightening. “Is there an age limit?"
“No, there isn’t,” Kon says, shooting Atlas a look as he scribbles something on his clipboard.
"How much does this pay?” I ask. “Fifteen, sixteen an hour?”
“Thirty-five to start,” Lola replies.
My eyes widen, and I almost choke on the spit in my throat.
"Is that a problem?" Kon asks.
"No! I’ll start tomorrow.”
“I make the final call,” Atlas says, our heads shifting to him. Lola rolls her eyes, and Kon falls back in his seat. “I haven’t gone through my list. I need staff that’s competent. Not just… hot.”
My cheeks burn. Did Atlas just call me hot?
“This is a student position. Are you enrolled?" He looks over his clipboard, then over his frames. “Our records show you’re not.”
“Then I’ll enroll." I shrug. "I’ve always wanted to study anthropology. Or journalism.” I gave up on that dream a long time ago. You need money for post-secondary education, and I have none.
“We don’t pay for your enrollment,” Atlas says. “And you can’t afford tuition.”
Kon was right. Atlas isn’t fun. He’s killing my hope. Just like I killed the moth.
“I’ll nominate her for a sponsorship,” Lola says.
My head snaps to her.
“We already picked our sponsor students this year.” Atlas sighs.
“So? We’ll pull some strings.” Lola leans towards Atlas. “C’mon, Atty, we need someone to fill this position. It’s been months. I want my Friday nights back, don’t you? She’s perfect.”
Atlas stalls, his eyes lingering on me.
I know what he sees.
A risk.
A liability.
“Majority rules, Atty,” Kon says.
Atlas clears his throat. “That’s not how this—”
“Welcome to the team, Zee.” Lola holds her hand towards me, her glossy red nails shining. “I’ll walk you out, and we can discuss your schedule.”
I lunge forward, not missing my chance to seal the deal.
Glancing at Atlas, his brows furrow.
I smile, a silent plea.
"Majority rules,” he says, leaning back in his seat, accepting his fate.
Lola squeals before she escorts me out, telling me about the best places for snacks around campus. When we’re at the front, she gives me her card.
“Call me if you need anything at all. Once you’re settled in, I’ll take you for a drink.” Then she leans in, the scent of a sweet perfume coming with her. “Do you have a boyfriend, Zee?”
“I—uh … no?”
“Don’t rule out, Kon.” She winks. “I won’t tell Atlas.”
My tongue sticks to my mouth. I thought Kon was off-limits since he’s now my boss. He’s also older and a prof. All signs lead to complications. But can I still pick the wrong guy even if he’s recommended?
Lola turns towards the doors. “Oh, and don’t worry about Atlas,” she calls. “He’s a real softy when you get to know him.”
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips.
I landed the job. One that doesn’t look half-bad.
The quiet settles around me, the wind chilly on my skin.
A prickle strikes my spine, crawling across my neck as my eyes drift over to the forest.
My body stiffens, my gaze lingering on a tall shadow between the trees.
It’s just a tree.
Maybe it’s not.
What if it’s him?
The memory of last night seeps into my mind.
Should I tell someone about Sugar Skull?
“Jailtime. For you."
My threat was a bluff. Even if Drey wasn’t an idiot, I still can’t call the cops, not with my history.
Does Sugar Skull know that?
My gaze floats to a yellow box attached to a thick metal pole.
‘Press for campus security.’
Maybe they’ll know what to do. But that also risks them alerting the police.
My head whips back to the Insectarium doors.
Has Lola encountered an intruder here before? Has she seen something weird? Regardless, maybe a woman is the safest person to talk to.
Taking another deep breath, I turn towards the door, just as my phone vibrates in my tote.
Pulling it out, my eyes narrow at the screen.
Unknown Caller.
Glancing back at the Insectarium, I answer the call.
“Don’t think about it.”
My breath stops, heat washing over my chest as the world blurs.
It’s the voice from last night.
Sugar Skull.