name. His jaw clenches.
“He didn't hurt the butterflies,” she offers as if it is the only good thing she experienced during the siege.
“No Reflective would harm a papilion,” Jeb states.
“Oh, I don't know, Merrick.” Maddie expels a shaking breath.
She tosses her thick braid behind her back, and Jeb allows a small smile. Beth wasted no time in taming the young woman’s hair.
“But after the first year, they only came once a month. It's been two years since they came last.”
“You must have been terrified,” Beth says.
Maddie scans their faces. “I still am.”
“Hey—Mad, nobody's gonna getcha now. It's you and me against the world. It's not great, but it's better than Chuck, right?”
Maddie looks at Jacky then away. “It's kinda like Chuck in a way. Always looking over my shoulder, wondering when he would find me and kick my teeth in.”
Jacky laughs, startling Maddie.
Jeb wonders what the hades is so funny.
“I think Chuckie-boy is worm feast.” His mossy-green eyes land on Jeb, who gives a grim nod.
“Five years now.”
“Rotting?” Jacky presses with a knowing smile.
A slow grin overtakes Jeb's face. “Oh yes, positively ground sludge at this point.”
Maddie laughs.
It's good to see a smile on her face, regardless of the reason.
Jeb views Jacky in a new light. He possesses no tact, but the boy is as shrewd as a fox.
He lifted the oppression from Maddie like an unseen veil. She steps forward, looping her arm through his, and they begin walking again.
Jacky looks at Jeb in profile and winks.
*
It's deeply troubling that Rachett has not been found. There is no effective Reflective leadership without him.
Interim leadership will fall to a vote.
Calvin and Kennet are worn and filthier than even Jeb's lackluster group had been. But they've accomplished a lot in the day and a half since their jump to Papilio.
They've scoured The Cause Headquarters. Blood and bullets have been cleaned away, and the broken butterfly sculpture has been repaired and remounted. After all, it is the metaphorical flag of their world.
Jeb’s eyes cut a swath in the general vicinity of the sculpture.
The money changer is gone, and the treads of marbled cream and apricot are pure again. A little bit of blood is visible only if one looks for it.
Jeb strides to Kennet and claps him on the back. Calvin’s eyes widen at the sight of Maddie. Wisely, he doesn't comment on her obvious frailty.
“Good Principle, how is it a Three survived this?”
Jeb lifts a shoulder. “It is her tale to tell, and a longer one than we have time for at present.”
“True,” Calvin agrees.
Strained silence tightens between them. “What—how do we assess things?” Jeb asks.
“While you were getting prettied up—” Kennet says in a mocking voice.
“I am not, and will never be, pretty. But I am fed, bathed, and have five hours sleep underneath my belt.”
Calvin palms his chest above his heart. “Oh, the envy!”
“Report,” Jeb commands dryly, softening the word with a smile.
Their faces smooth to seriousness and Jeb's heart accelerates. In his experience, no pause is a good one.
“There have been some papiliones women spared, but too few,” Kennet speaks to the ground. “The Reflectives have returned to the domiciles they once had, but…” He spreads his hands away from his body.
“Many were destroyed,” Calvin finishes quietly.
Hands clenched into fists, Jeb closes his eyes against the thought of their women being used in that way.
Jeb opens his eyes slowly, inhaling deeply. “Rachett?”
They shake their heads in unison.
Jeb turns to let Beth know what is happening, then he feels a pluck at his sleeve.
He turns back.
“The news is grim, my friend.”
Worse than what's happened to our world for the last five years?
“Before we killed the defected Reflectives, they anticipated our coming.”
Jeb leans into Calvin, their eyes meet. “And?”
“They Reflected the women.”
Jeb jerks back as though burnt, his face as tight as a mask. “Where?” he whispers.
Kennet shakes his head. “Everywhere.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Slade
“I do not believe for one minute that Dimitri has tasked you with a Sector Ten jump for the sole purpose of reconnaissance.” Gunnar nods at the young woman.
She smiles. “Thank you so much, sir.”
“No. Thank you.” He smiles, revealing fangs tinged pink with her blood.
Slade rolls his eyes, giving a hard sigh.
Three papiliones stand before them, staring blankly.
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.” Gunnar tosses his finger from one to the other. “I've had you first.” He gives the young woman a brief nod, and she shines a face-breaking smile upon him.
“And now I shall have—”
“Gunnar,” Slade says.
“Hmm,” he replies, hand palming his chin.
“Stop this. Take the blood and be