by Emily Shore
Out of the corner of my eye, I scrutinize Sky, but his expression doesn’t change. I’m sure we’ll discuss this new Temple later.
“I figured it’d be a good way to scope out the Syndicate’s plans if nothing else. You could use the information.” Neil nods to us. “But the whole thing was a setup to get me out into the open. And…I held out as long as I could.”
Controlling myself, I take my first steps toward Neil, keeping my arms latched around myself. “Who, Neil? Who has our twins? Where are they?”
“Is it the Syndicate?” Sky demands, fingers digging into his pants.
Neil shakes his head. “You’re not that lucky. Yes, the Syndicate is still hunting for you. They want you to assume your rightful place as director since they’ve rebuilt the place. But no, they’re not the ones.”
Suddenly, Sky grips Neil’s hair. My brother cringes when Sky raises his fist. “Not the face, not the face, please!”
“Sky…” I grab his arm, scratching his skin with my nails. “Let him talk.”
Still tense, Neil purses his lips and asks, “You ever heard the name Haven?”
Sky’s mouth thins to the danger zone. “Stop lying.”
“I swear!” Neil raises his hands, starting to slide upward.
“Who’s Haven?” I ask, flicking my head between them.
“More familiar in the circles Luc once ran in,” Sky informs me, dropping Neil’s arm and beginning to pace. “Most notorious assassin for hire. The kind who could murder the president and disappear if she wanted. One name. Haven.”
“What type of assassin name is that?” I challenge, rolling my eyes.
“Word is she got the name because she whispers to her victims right before she kills them,” Neil answers as he rubs a finger to a burn mark on his chest. He bites on his lower lip, wincing.
“And how do they know that if everyone is dead?” I quip, muttering the question under my breath.
Neil wanders into the kitchen, hunting for something. He opens the freezer to grab some ice while explaining, “Because only one ever escaped her…right after she whispered to him. Another contract killer who crossed paths with her. Incredibly young at the time.”
I start to rub my face, putting the pieces together. “Luc. Seriously?”
After wrapping the ice in a cloth, Neil nods and presses the cold cloth to his head. “Guess she never got over it.”
Sky is in research mode now. Sitting at the table, he opens his interface screen and pours over any articles relating to this Haven.
“So, what? Taking the twins is revenge?” I pull out a chair to sit next to him at the table.
Neil continues scrounging around the kitchen. “More than that. Haven got out of the contract killing. She’s a director now. Like Jade, she’s independent, but all branches respect her. She has connections since she’s done work for them.”
Already suspecting where this is going, I grit my teeth. “Why does she want our twins?”
Neil grabs some leftover meatloaf, pulls out a chair, and sits opposite me. “She doesn’t want the twins—she wants you. For the grand opening of her new Museum. It will give the Temple a run for its money, but with the Temple princess, it would give Haven the jumpstart she wants.”
I lean back in my chair, grumbling, “Why not just take me?”
“Because she knew you’d never perform without someone caught in the balance.”
It makes sense. The twins were also the easiest targets. The ones they could most likely steal from the Sanctuary.
“Sky?” I reach for him. Up until now, he’s been quiet. Grim mouth still pressed into a thin line, corners tighter than two old knots.
“How did they know?” he questions without even looking up from scanning the articles. Sky’s coping mechanism.
“I wasn’t the only one they tortured. Recently, the Syndicate released some records regarding the circumstances of your disappearance.” Neil prods at his meatloaf before squeezing some ketchup onto the plate. “They did their work a year ago and got to Moby. They figured the doctor who originally helped you and Serafina escape might have some info. No, he didn’t tell them about the twins, but he did give up the lake house location. Figured there wasn’t any point in keeping it secret. You were at the Sanctuary. So, he gave them something to steer them to a dead end.”
We’ve had almost no contact with Moby since he first brought us the twins two years ago. I’ll have to make sure to thank him soon. First, he saved mine and Serafina’s lives. Then, our twins.
Neil takes a bite, ignoring Sky and focusing on me. “When the Syndicate released your history to the public, including the info about Moby, he was put in danger. Haven got to him. I don’t know how long she tortured him. They’ve got other ways of getting the truth out of someone, too. It was enough. She found out about the twins, but she had no way of knowing how to get to them.”
I start to creep my hand across the table. “And how long did they torture you? How long did you hold out before the cost for their lives became too high for you?”
Neil rubs his eyes, observing the table before directing his attention to me. Gray as steel ships cutting through ocean breakers. “Wasn’t the cost of my life that got too high. It was Lindy’s.”
His words give me a second’s pause. “Did you ever stop to calculate? I love Lindy, too. I’d never want her hurt. But you and she are adults, Neil. Kerrie and Verity…they are children!” I rise from the chair, much too fast because it clatters to the floor.
“And so is the one inside her.”
Sky jerks his head up from his research. Planting my hands on the table, I lower my head, squeezing my eyes shut and whispering my brother’s name. “Neil, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I—” It was an impossible choice.
“She promised not to hurt them. Said it didn’t make sense to hurt them because she needs you to come for them. But she did promise to hurt Lindy…and the baby,” he says to make his point clear, then clutches his chest. I can tell he had a patch job before they sent him off here. He needs more medical treatment, but I need answers first.
“So, our twins are bait…and leverage.” I blow out a deep breath because what we have to do is obvious. But judging from Sky’s set jaw, I know what he’s considering. He wants to handle this on his own. Wants to leave me behind.
“I’ll get them back, Ser.” His words confirm it. He didn’t say “we’ll”. Then, he turns the screen toward me, showing blueprints of a skyscraper. Only, this scraper isn’t spanning into the clouds. He swipes, showing me an expanded view of multiple spiral-designed scrapers with dozens of smaller spheres peppered around the spirals connected via skyway bridges.
Confused, I ask, “Neil, what kind of Museum is this?”
“It’s a sea-scraper. Not as long as the Temple, but wider and everything apart from the lobby level is underwater. Deep sea currents help give it power. Congratulations, Ser. A world-famous assassin wants you to be the star of her Atlantis world: The Aquarium.”
3
D e p A r T u r e
* * *
On the longest night of our lives, Sky and I have barely spoken a word to each other. But he’s been speaking to about every contact he has through the Task Force. By morning, I’ve picked up on various plans and theories. Some include an invisible submarine—I had to tug Neil by the ear out of the room before Sky punched him. Another involved going undercover, but each position from construction worker to deep-sea diver would still take days, if not weeks, working to find the location of our captured twins.
Lindy doesn’t have that much time.
Neil can’t return alone, or Haven will kill her and their unborn child. It’s an impossible situation.
“Sky…” I finally catch him in a lull between his calls, sliding my arms around his waist from behind.
He dips his head, clenching onto the balcony railing of our back porch until his knuckles turn as white as the waning moon. “I should have—”
“Don’t,” I warn b
ecause I don’t think I can handle what-ifs right now. “We did what we could. Did you get any matches from the hair sample?”
“Hacked the Centre system and just got a match. Wylder Graves. Don’t know how he’s connected to Haven yet other than being listed on The Aquarium’s Platinum Sponsor level.”
“Why would someone with the kind of resources to be a platinum sponsor be doing grunt work like child abduction?” I slide toward the railing while keeping one arm around Sky’s waist.
He folds his hands on the railing, gazing out to the sea. “Can’t say.”
“Sky, we have to do this together. You realize that, right?”
As if on autopilot, he shakes his head, but he doesn’t respond.
I poke his side, trying to lighten the moment to see if it helps. “Remember the last time you tried to leave me behind?”
“You don’t have Luc this time,” he points out.
“You should know by now not to underestimate me. Especially this time. They are mine to fight for just as much as yours.”
“It’s too big of a risk.”
“Just the opposite. If you’re caught without me, who knows what she’d do to you or the twins or Lindy? Think about it. I can trade myself for them. If I agree to perform, she’ll let them go. At the very least, she’ll let Lindy go. And once I know exactly where the twins are, you can do the rest.”
“We’re not playing the Aviary again,” he proclaims, referencing his time as a security guard. “This isn’t Luc who protected your purity at all costs. This isn’t Jade who wanted to take you under her wing so you’d assume responsibilities for the Garden, and this isn’t Force training you to be his Yang.”
Sky turns and cups the side of my face, drawing me closer. For the first time in a long time, I see the creases on the sides of his eyes and the shadows underneath, the concern darkening the rosewood of his irises. “All cards are off the table. She won’t care if we’re married. She won’t care…she won’t understand us. The world won’t understand us. They will only see what they want to see.”
I hear the echoes of the past whispering to me—the Swan, the Skeleton Flower, the Undine, the Angel, the Bride…Yang. Memories erupt inside my head, spewing out images that are smoke and ash. Images I’ve worked hard to banish. Every now and then, Sky asks about them, urging me to talk about them, write about them. But that would mean remembering them—Bliss and Luc and everyone else I’ve lost. I’m not ready for that. Maybe I never will be.
I finally passed out around five that morning with Sky’s body cradling mine, his breath on the back of my neck, hands stationed like sentries around my waist to forbid the tremors from ripping me apart. Crying myself to sleep isn’t new, but these were the sharpest tears. A permanent ache has wedged itself in my heart from the loss of Verity and Kerrie. Altogether different from the loss of their parents. Thoughts of where my babies are sleeping, who their caretakers are, or if they are even alive became a plague in the wee hours.
Are our children even together? Are they scared in an unfamiliar environment without their parents? No one knows them like we do. They don’t know Kerrie likes to be rocked and given a warm bottle when he wakes up in the middle of the night. They don’t know that sweet, ticklish spot on Verity’s chest where her rib cage meets her tummy.
The thoughts refused to stop, but my subconscious must have overpowered them because I’m waking up now. It’s daylight. The bed is cold. And Sky is gone. There’s a note on the table…
You’ll always be my Ser.
I hurry to find Neil. We don’t have long.
“Are you sure about this?” Neil shouts above the sound of the ocean waves leaping up to attack the sides of the boat as we charge through, creating an upside-down V trail behind us.
“He’s gonna get himself killed without me there.” I hold on when Keir guns the boat, hitting another choppy area. “Thanks for this, Keir.”
Keir glances back at us, speaking through the cigar in his mouth. “Anything for Serenity Storm. This is my second run today,” he shouts as the sea sprays the top of his bald head. Keir is an old codger who knows the waters better than anyone else on the Task Force. He doesn’t even need to check charts or bearings.
I lean over, presuming his first run was Sky, and ask, “What did he say?”
Keir puffs out smoke around a grin. “Told me not to take you to the mainland. But can’t rightly recall. My hearing’s not so great anymore. Maybe he told me not to do a handstand.” Keir winks, scratching at the nape of his neck while steering the boat a little starboard.
“Thanks, Keir.” I always knew he liked me better than Sky. My husband is better at poker than Keir. Ever since Keir lost a bottle of fifty-year-old rum to Sky, they’ve had a playful animosity between them.
“So…” Neil crosses his legs, nudging my side. “Got a plan, princess?”
“Find Sky. Find the twins. Find Lindy. And get out.”
“Good plan. Do you have a realistic one?” He rolls his eyes, much to my chagrin because I know the only realistic option we have—I trade myself for everyone.
And pray to God Haven accepts.
4
T h E A q u A r i U m
* * *
“Okay, this is going to hurt,” I warn Neil just before we apply the digital patches. We’ll arrive at our destination soon, but we are still hours behind Sky, especially since he has more connections. We’ve already lost an hour in travel time alone. The worst part was wearing a mask since it meant playing Neil’s consort. The world still hasn’t forgotten the Swan or the Face of the Temple, judging by random articles still circulating about the Temple’s missing heir in the wake of Force’s death. His funeral was an epic affair…one I was all too happy to miss.
The patch will hurt Neil more than me as it will scramble his barcode ink into a new identity. Mine simply imprints one onto my skin since Sky and I had our Temple barcodes removed when we arrived at the Sanctuary two years ago. I’ve already made sure to cover the Yang tattoo on the back of my shoulder. The one thing the Sanctuary couldn’t remove since it’s where they injected the Immortal implant. That requires a more invasive surgery.
“Sonofa—” Neil shrieks as the barcode ink shifts and rearranges, puckering his skin. “You promised me a fun time all right.”
No doubt drawn to Neil’s outburst, a couple in the train box next to us peek through the adjoining glass window. Fortunately, they can’t see anything below our shoulders. Reversing barcode ink is a crime.
“Too bad we didn’t have time for deep prosthetics,” Neil remarks when we attach the DIM devices to our chest. Short for Digital Imagery Manipulation, they are something the Task Force uses often. Sky has used them in the past to trick cameras by way of light and psychedelic patterns. The only problem is the battery doesn’t last long per device. At the most, we may get an hour from these. And they are detectable to the trained eye.
When the volumetric announcer projects in the air before us, robotic but feminine, and announces our exit, Neil and I waste no time. I have to remain behind him instead of taking the lead because a consort would never behave in a forward manner. We won’t activate the DIMs until we enter the Aquarium.
As soon as we step off the train, I pause to marvel at the sight of the Aquarium. What I saw in the blueprints was impressive, but witnessing it up close… The crests of four great spiral towers inject the air while the rest hide below the surface, reminding me of swirling opals swallowed by an ocean of sapphires.
“Did you know they can actually raise the whole city out of the ocean? From what I heard, they only plan to do it once a month. An elite event. Haven’s truly recreated Atlantis.”
And the profit potential is not lost. The Aquarium is located in the heart of the harbor district, though an invisible electrified shield surrounds the infamous Museum. Nearby, the shopping district is complete with oceanic elements ranging from fashion to food. About a quarter of a mile away, a fisherman’s wharf featuring fresh fish booms near
the harbor, bustling with people. Judging by those who walk past the Aquarium and turn their heads, stopping to take in the sprite lights, there is much anticipation for this Museum. A sprite light radiates from the largest spiral tower, projecting several marketing ads. With the sunlight casting down on the Museum, one would think all the towers were covered in glittery sequins. More beautiful than the Temple. Enchanting. Like something out of a fairy tale.
Under our faux barcodes and DIM disguises, Neil and I progress to one of the gated bridge ramps leading to the Aquarium. A security guard watching a sprite-light sports game reflecting through his box window glances up for barely a second before announcing, “All potential models report to the lobby area.” He jerks his thumb down the ramp to the main doors. “Receptionist will log in your profiles.”
One interesting feature of DIM is how it alters one’s physical characteristics but does not fully negate them. So, our new faces look eerily similar to our own. Which means Neil and I still look like models. Our hair is as white as angel wings, tower-high cheekbones, and eyes sharp as a hunter’s arrows. The three characteristics we have in common. Everything else from eye color to nose shape to lip thickness is different. No wonder he believed we were models applying for the Aquarium.
The bridge ramp is equipped with moving walkways. No doubt individual transports will cart buyers from the gates, but, for now, the walkways are the quickest way to the main doors. On each side are oceanic ponds filled with kelp and lotus flowers. Tropical foliage and palm trees grow from specialty planters all along the bridge ramp.
