Silence of the Butterflies

Author's Note: Big thank you to Secretsxywriter for editing and helping me to make this story better.

***

Again, I woke up well-rested but sore. Scratching my itching thighs got my nails full of dried-up saliva and sperm. I rushed to the shower and scrubbed myself clean so hard, I was pink all over.

I went through my apartment with the towel around my waist but found nothing out of place. Like yesterday, Toucher had come and gone like a breeze. The only evidence of their presence was the scattered papers and my well-satisfied dick.

It was already past midday, so I quickly geared up and hit the street. It would take some time to search the homeless shelters close to the strip club.

Decent sleep and clear objective gave me energy I hadn't had in months. My step was light, and I noticed I was smiling. Some people on the street looked at me funny when I passed by humming.

Still, I couldn't shake all of my uneasiness. I had no idea what would happen if I didn't find Madam Seri for Toucher.

It took some time, but I walked the whole way back to what was left of the Rama-Rama Club. The place looked even more run-down in sunlight. Clearly, it had been closed for some time.

Tobias was nowhere to be found. It made sense since he couldn't sleep in the club now that the teardown crew was there. The only locals I found were pigeons inhabiting the narrow back streets. I felt like Moses parting the bird sea as I waded through them.

Guided by my phone, I searched for the homeless shelters. The number of them near here didn't say anything good about the area.

Tobias and Hetty hadn't been seen in the first two places today. The answers I got were mumbled at best, and I got side-eyed a lot. Couldn't blame them. A stranger asking around probably wasn't good news.

I trudged on, equal parts of not wanting to disappoint Toucher and wanting to get to the root of this mystery. The third place was the charm—figuratively. It was just as gray and depressing as the previous shelters. But here I found Tobias playing cards with an older, black woman.

"You the mystery man, then?" she asked when I approached. "You asked for Hetty, and here I am."

"I'm Rico. Do you know anything about Madam Seri?"

"Let's talk over some coffee, then." Hetty marched out towards a cafe some ways away. I got the impression I was paying.

Tobias followed, giving me an apologetic smile but staying silent.

I bought two large coffees and a couple of sandwiches for both of them. The least I could do. We sat at a corner table. Hetty put her legs on an empty chair. Some of the customers gave us displeased looks, and I put on my best 'fuck you' face. We were paying, so we had the right to be there as much as their latte-loving-asses .

Hetty devoured her first sandwich before giving me a second glance. Her skin looked more like leather than anything. She seemed to be one of those people whose life had aged them beyond their actual years. "Now then, you want to know things?"

"Do you know where Madam Seri lives?"

"You some debtor?"

"We have a mutual friend who's worried about her. The club shutting down and all."

"Down it went, that's for sure. Got old. Her, I mean, but the club, too. A fancy place it was. I worked there, you know. As a secretary. When I was younger. Before I married. She kept good care of us. Hid me after I ran from Dave. So, I sure wanna know you don't mean no harm to her."

Her face made sure she'd fuck me up if I even thought about crossing Madam Seri. "What was her real name?"

"Ayla Yavuz. She was from Europe, somewhere. Parents worked on ships. Cooking and stuff like that. She'd been all over the world."

"What's with all the butterflies?"

"Oh, she loved them! Collected them. Not the dead kind." She stabbed the table with her finger like pinning something down. "She had them in cages and fed them old fruit. They were huge. Made me shiver. She talked to them like humans, too."

"Any moths?"

"Heavens, no. Those ugly things." Hetty gave me a weird look. "She had half of her office just for the butterflies. Nobody was allowed in there during the day, not to disturb them. She let the girls in there, though."

"The showgirls?"

"These exotic ladies from far away. I guess she'd met them on her travels. Weird sort. Rarely spoke but danced like possessed. Every man wanted to bed them, none succeeded as far as I know. They always stayed later than anyone. Dunno where they lived. Not my business. They were already practicing when I came in the morning and stayed when I left. I have a picture if you like. Didn't stole, picked it from trash one day."

Hetty went through her pockets and pulled out all kinds of junk. She unfolded an old photo that had faded to sepia. "It was torn when I took it."

I recognized Madam Seri from the pictures I'd found googling yesterday. Her clothes dated it somewhere in the 70s. She was surrounded by tall, exotic looking women whose origin I couldn't place. They all had long limbs, delicate frames, and the right number of fingers, too. The left side of the picture had been torn away. Like removing someone from it.

"You didn't see the other half?" I asked.

"It was years ago." Hetty folded the picture carefully. "She's a good woman. With a temper, though. If you crossed her, it was over. Wish I'd been able to do something for her."

I had a hunch about the origin of the women, but I couldn't say it out loud. "Where are they now? The girls, and the butterflies?"

"Who knows about the girls. The butterflies are with her."

"Surely, some of the girls got too old to dance?"

"I guess. I wasn't there to stare at titties."

I felt like Alice falling into the rabbit hole, but I kept asking. "Why did the club close?"

Hetty's face was growing more suspicious with every question. "She got sick, as old people do, and had to close. Everything was sold. Offered to get her a cat, to keep company, but she'd have none of that. Just took her butterflies to her new place. So small. Cats are good. You need company. Not good to be alone. Drives you crazy."

"And where does she live now?"

"Can't say if she's still there, but I'll give you the address." Hetty gave me a meaningful look.

I pulled out my wallet. "How much?"

"I'm homeless, not a mugger." Hetty's voice was a bit hurt. "I was just thinking about another sandwich. They make 'em good here."

I got them both a couple of more sandwiches. When I looked outside, it was already almost evening. Days had been dragging along these past months, and suddenly the time seemed to fly.

Was Toucher looking for Madam Seri or the butterflies? Or both? Toucher hadn't drawn any butterflies on me. Maybe they didn't want to reveal the connection, if there was one.

Hetty scribbled an address on a crumpled paper with a broken pen. Both she'd dug out of her pockets previously. "Here you go, son. Tell her we said hi."

"Will do. Thank you." The address was in a walking distance. I waved my goodbye, leaving Hetty and Tobias with their sandwiches.

The wind was picking up, so I pulled up my hood and sped my step. My thoughts buzzed like a beehive. Now I had answers, but I didn't know if I liked them. As crazy as it sounded, I was sure the dancers and the butterflies were one and the same.

I was willing to bet a lot on that it had been Toucher who'd been removed from the picture. I just didn't know why Toucher had been kicked out. Or had they bailed? Toucher couldn't pass as a stripper.

I would be lucky if Madam Seri would even open the door. I was a stranger. A possible con man from her point of view. I couldn't just tell her a mute spirit moth—or something—wanted me to contact her.

Or could I? If she knew their secret, she'd know I was telling the truth.

As I arrived, I heard police sirens in the distance. An ill omen, if there was one.

The building looked like it would fall on me if the wind picked up any more. It seemed Madam Seri hadn't invested for retirement. I gave the elevator one glance and decided to take the stairs. Not that I could scoff at people living here. I'd be down these parts soon enough if I didn't find work soon.

The doors and floors were chipped. Dirt had piled in the corners. At least, I saw no rats. I passed by some scrawny elderly people clanking on with their walkers. A kid popped his head from behind one door, staring at me in surprise and then quickly shutting the door.

Madam Seri's door was on the eighth floor and at the end of the corridor. Just as worn out as the rest of them. I checked myself with my phone, trying to look as unsuspicious as possible.

The buzzer made no sound, so I knocked. No answer.

She could be out getting groceries or have gone to a choir, as far as I knew. I tried again to no avail. The clock was ticking, so I kept knocking. I pressed my ear against the door but heard no voices or noises.

What I did hear was footsteps coming from behind me.

A thin, short man came up the stairs and dug out his keys. He gave me a nod as he stopped in the front of a door a couple of apartments away. "She won't answer. Even the church people couldn't get ahold of her."

"You know her?"

"Seen her sometimes. Not for a while, though. Polite and cheerful, unlike most people here."

"I need to get in touch with her."

"The church people always slip a note under her door."

"Thanks."

The man vanished into his apartment, leaving me stranded in the hallway. Leaving a note seemed like the best option, discounting the fact Toucher wouldn't be happy.

I didn't have anything else, so I wrote my name and phone number on the paper Hetty had given me. As a last ditch, I added I was in the business for butterflies.

The slit between the floor and the door was tight. The paper was crumpled and refused to go in, no matter how much I smoothed it. Frustrated, I flopped on my stomach and peered in the apartment.

I saw a plethora of notes in the dim light of the room. Even if the church people visited daily, which I doubted, there had to be a week's worth of notes there.

Either she wasn't living here anymore, didn't care to clean up, or couldn't clean up. The first two were possible, but if so, there was little I could do. The last option made me worried. Did Toucher know Madam Seri wasn't feeling well? That would explain a lot.

I could call for help, but would they believe me? I could claim I'd heard her scream. It wouldn't end up well for me if they found Madam Seri and she was just late on her vacuuming.

I knocked on the door one last time, shouting her name. Still, no answer.

I walked back down. Sun had laced the clouds with orange. Could Madam Seri have been mugged and left in a ditch? She probably had nobody asking after her.

Nobody but Toucher.

Paranoia was getting the best of me, and I felt like I had to get inside. No matter what. The back alley was in even worse condition than the building. Not only were all the garbage pins full, it looked like someone had emptied their apartment from a window.

I stopped in the middle of the alley and looked up. The secured end of the fire escape was above me. How much was I willing to risk?

I wasn't a mountain goat, but if I jumped from one of the over-stuffed bins, I could reach high enough. Scrapes on the wall and the railing implied somebody had done that many times before.

That would be an even surer way to get in trouble with the law.

I dragged one of the bins into the right spot. At least, I wouldn't have to worry about being unemployed if I was in prison. Carefully, I pulled myself on top and reached up. The lowest part of the fire escape was still out of reach.

The junk in the bin gave in when I crouched for the jump. I barely managed to keep my balance. After steadying myself, I gave it a light test bounce to ensured it wouldn't happen again.

I took a deep breath and jumped.

The force of my movement made the bin creak, but I managed to grab the bottom of the lowest landing. The cold metal was nothing after a couple of nights with Toucher. My arms protested as I pulled myself up. I really should've warmed up beforehand.

Gradually, I managed to shift my position so that I gained a foothold and could push with my legs. The railing dug into my ribs as I floundered over the top and fell on the landing. I was out of breath, and adrenaline coursed through my body.

I forced myself up as soon as I could breathe normally. The longer I took, the more likely it was for someone to see me and call the cops. I managed to run up a couple of floors before I had to resort to walking. Madam Seri had a corner apartment, so the fire escape took me straight to it.

When I got up to the eighth floor, I was huffing and buffing like The Big Bad Wolf. Sadly, the building was made from bricks, so I couldn't just blow my way in.

The window was locked, as I'd expected. I peered through the glass and saw no-one. The small living room was sparsely furnished. There wasn't even a TV. What I did see were empty bird cages covered with gauze.

The window frame was frayed with similar claw marks I'd seen in the club. Hanging inside was a web of sticks, almost like a dreamcatcher. It was bound with barbed wire, so it probably wasn't there for inviting spirits in. It made me think of the amulet I'd received for my spirit problem. Though, this seemed to be a hostile one.

Had Toucher been locked out?

If there were wards keeping Toucher out, maybe they were an unwelcomed guest. I'd presumed they were seeking Madam Seri in good faith, but I could be wrong. Was I working for the bad guy?

Maybe I should just leave and find a way to get rid of Toucher?

The deciding factor was the withered flowers on the small stand next to the window. Madam Seri didn't seem like a person who'd let her plants die.

I exhaled a couple of times and stretched my limbs. Okay, let's go to jail.

I backed off and kicked the glass. I only managed to create a small crack. The third kick got me through. Despite my jeans, I almost cut my Achilles tendon on the shards.

With my jacket protecting my arm, I reached in and opened the latch. I slipped in, accidentally pushing over the flower stand in the process.

I was going to go for the light switch, but as soon as I got in, a blast of silence hit me. It was much like Toucher's, only a lot more powerful and searing. I stumbled against the wall, my vision lighting up with stars.

"I hear you! Please, stop."

The pressure eased enough for me to find the switch. The living room lit up brightly, revealing the dead butterflies in the cages. They sparked in luscious colors. Jewels, like Hetty had called them.

I ripped the gauze away. The feeders were empty. The floors of the cages were littered with molded fruit.

The pressure got stronger again. I saw one butterfly's legs twitch. Maybe it wasn't too late. I opened the cabin next to the cages, rummaging through the shelves.

I found a bottle with a picture of a butterfly on it. The stuff smelled sweet. I poured it in the feeder but that didn't help. The creatures were too feeble to stand up and start eating. I rushed to the kitchenette—the silence booming in my ears—and grabbed a hand towel. I poured the nectar on it and opened the first cage.

With trembling hands, I offered the towel to the closest butterfly, a glittering marvel of green and blue. It uncoiled its trunk painfully slowly and touched the cloth.

I held my breath and stared at the creature I was sure was more than a mere insect.

The butterfly stopped drinking and moved its legs. The pressure in my head eased slightly. I proceeded to feed the others.

With every feeding, the veil of silence calmed down. When I had let the last of the butterflies drink from the cloth, the first one had already managed to make its way to the feeder and was sipping more nectar on its own.

I sat down on the floor and let the towel fall next to me. I was too spent to look for a chair. Gradually, the butterflies managed to get on their feet. None were strong enough to fly yet, but I had left the cage doors open just in case.

My adrenaline finally ran out, and my body shuddered like I had been dipped in icy water.

Over the cages hung a framed picture, like the one Hetty had shown me. This one hadn't been ripped in two, merely folded to hide someone. I stood up and took the picture from the wall. I needed to see what it was hiding.

While fighting with the frame, I looked around and started to smell something.

Something bad.

I peered around the corner and found the bathroom door. It was closed but not locked. The smell was coming from inside. Part of me knew what I was going to find when I turned the knob.

When I opened the door, the smell hit me like a freight train. The picture fell from my hand, the glass shattering across the floor.

An old woman, or what was left of her, lied on the bathroom floor. It had to be Madam Seri. There was no blood or signs of violence, as far as I could see, but she was most assuredly dead. Been for a while now.

I backed away, tripping over my own feet. My hands trembled too much for me to get my phone out.

The church notes on the floor flew everywhere when I yanked the front door open and fled into the corridor.

When I came to my senses, I had already run for a couple of blocks. Heaving, I collapsed next to a lunch diner closed for the day. I hit my thighs with my palms, trying to stop my hands from shaking. My mind was recoiling from the sight of the decomposing body. I tried to forget, but it was etched on my retinas.

It took a while, but I got the phone out and called 911. I didn't give my name, just told them where to find the body. If there'd be consequences, they were a matter of another day.

***

It was already dark when I managed to get back to my apartment. I kicked my shoes off, and they thudded against the wall. I discarded my clothes on the floor and fell on the bed.

I stayed there for a long time, just staring at the ceiling. The red light of the sign outside poured in, turning everything neon red. The color of unreal blood. Had I done the right thing? Did it really matter? Madam Seri was dead, no matter what.

But the butterflies had survived.

I had no idea how long Toucher had been standing in the doorway when I finally noticed them. The red light highlighted their dark body and hair. The surgical mask still covered their face.

"I found her! Happy now?"

They flinched at the sound of my voice, raising their hands to their ears. If they had any under the hair.

"She's dead," I added in a whisper. "But you knew that already, didn't you?"

Toucher climbed on the bed but refrained from touching me.

I wanted to yell some more. Vomit out all the stress. But in the end, I was just empty. What little mental strength I'd had left, I'd spent helping Toucher. I almost hoped Toucher would open their hidden mouth and rip me to pieces.

Then there would be an end, not just days and days of silent suffering.

Toucher raised their hand, palm up.

I sighed and offered them my hand. They started to draw on it.

This time, it wasn't some scribbles. The pictures bloomed to life in my mind with bleeding afterimages of neon hues. I saw a towering forest. A jungle? A group of brightly clothed women emerged, and trailing behind them was a shaggy kid—an ugly duckling. The group met an ordinary woman brought in by a ship.

The forest flowed away. The whirling lights turned into a twilight over a city skyline. Song, dance, music. Dazzling flowers erupted, and butterflies fluttered among them. Everyone else had a grand old time, but the ugly duckling wasn't allowed to dance with the others. A fight broke out between the duckling and the ordinary woman, ending with the duckling running away.

Mountains, lakes, and prairies streamed by as the duckling traveled the world, moving from shadow to shadow. Only after a long time did the duckling notice people grew old and frail. When it returned home, what was left of it was a lonely sign painting everything red.