The Aquarium

by Emily Shore

  “It’s not possible.” Wylder scowls after she shuts down the interface.

  “Where did she come from?” Haven motions to the body.

  “Transfer. Autumn Museum up north.”

  “Any family?”

  Wylder shakes his head. “Orphan.”

  “Good. No one to notify.” Then, Haven jerks her head toward us. “Get them out of here. I’ll inspect the body for more information, then question them after Serenity’s interaction. Take her to her new prep room.”

  Wylder pauses and cups his sister’s shoulder, eyes softening like ink pools. “Haven…”

  She stiffens, but she regards him once before muttering, “Later, Wylder. Go.”

  * * *

  For the third time, I reassure Neil I’ll be fine, then direct him to go to the twins and relieve Sky because we need to get ready for the day’s first performance. Free to leave, Neil follows my directions and exits down a moving ramp, which leads to my family’s quarters.

  Eyes creased in concern, Wylder directs me to a moving walkway. I open my mouth to question him, but snap it closed because I won’t get anywhere. If Sky could hack into the feeds, maybe, but after his first intrusion, Haven arranged for the Aquarium’s system to red flag him if he so much as places a digital tattoo on his arm.

  Focusing on the task at hand, I trace the hallways as the walkway corkscrews through the level and spills into a skyway tube. The door to the backstage area of the tank is in the opposite direction. Why is he leading me down this—

  “Oh, my word…” I can’t help but gush at the sight of the metallic walls spill into a domed room that exists outside the tower like a bubble. Windows grant me 360-degree views of what would normally be pitch blackness, except for the countless luminescent creatures glowing all around me like moving celestial bodies in a velvet sky—jellyfish, squid, anemones, glowing coral, dragon fish, plankton, and even some hybrid species I don’t recognize.

  “NAILS and BODY are programmed into the windows. Program chair in the center of the room. I’m sure the deep-sea life will be just as thrilled with the view as you are,” Wylder jokes while leaning against a window, a jellyfish swaying out from behind him. “This is our bioluminescent reef.”

  Electrified by the unfamiliar environment, I take a step toward a window to get a closer look. My foot bumps a pillow on the floor.

  “Pillows?” I question, bending to pick it up, then tossing it in the air and catching it.

  “The room doubles as a planetarium.” Wylder demonstrates by approaching me, then easing down onto a fountain of pillows, rooting his head into their midst and waving a hand to the domed ceiling. “Care to join me?”

  “Why would I ever stoop to your level?” I metaphorically joke, a careless shrug making its way off my shoulders.

  Gruff, Wylder grumbles before standing. “I trust the new room meets with your approval?”

  I throw him a bone. “The room is perfect.”

  “Good. Shield panels lock into place during your preparation. The moving walkway will carry you directly to the backstage area.”

  “And this is Sky’s preparation room, too?”

  Wylder shakes his head. “The Sea King’s room is on the other side of the auditorium. Haven believes the separation will lead you to perform better. Everyone knows you are a spontaneous creature.” He smiles, eyes dark yet lustrous, much like the squids floating outside. No, more like a dragon fish. Wylder is well aware of the fire in his belly. He doesn’t try to fight it. Far too much like me, devoid of any decency. That’s what scares me the most, which is why I must keep putting up this front. I can never let him know.

  15

  B r o N z E C l I e n T

  * * *

  The performance is easier the second time around. Even when the sailors ripped at the pearls covering my lower half and gathered them up like miniature stars, it became easier to swallow. Like putting on Yang. Like wearing the Skeleton Flower. The Swan was the hardest. And she’ll never leave me. None will.

  Deep inside me, my butterflies complain, rearing their heads, but I gag them, not permitting the ache to rise. My lightning stirs, but I capture it, bottle it, and cap the glass.

  I only uncap it when Sky and I swim together in our exhibit costumes for our interaction. Playful, I coil my pearly tail up against his leg, pretending to drag him down into the depths with me. Seizing hold of each side of my neck, Sky hoists me back up to air and kisses me, tongue navigating the passages of my mouth, sinking deep until the interaction finishes.

  Now, it’s time for me to meet the Bronze Package client.

  * * *

  Once I step inside the room, I relax, though I don’t know why. With how much abuse and judgement has permeated this type of workplace, not to mention corruption with Families influencing such environments through donations and charities, clergy members have a reputation of trustworthiness a step or two above Glass District managers. Still, I find myself straying toward him. Between his clerical robe spilling like the Aquarium waterfall at dusk to the way wrinkle lines have formed around his mouth and how his eyes betray the act of many smiles, something about him invites me.

  “Serenity Storm.” He places a hand on his chest, bowing his head, pointed chin almost brushing the white collar of his robe. A gold Celtic cross dangles from a chain around his neck—a streak of sunshine on black water.

  “They call me the Sea Star here.” Or Sea Star Queen in some ads.

  He does not lift his head yet. “I know your husband. Forgive me, but the cameras.”

  He knows Sky. That must mean…

  “Are you with—”

  The priest cuts me off, voice strong as a ripcord. When he does lift his head, he smiles while speaking, and I have to control my urge to giggle. “Perhaps we can meet somewhere else where eyes aren’t watching.”

  “I don’t think Director Haven can read lips.” But I stop, knowing translator programs can and Haven would have access to such technology. So, I ponder where else we can meet where cameras don’t have access and can’t be tampered with, but I’m only coming up with our living quarters. Besides, I still need verification of his credentials before doing anything.

  Reading my expression, the priest takes my hand and kisses the back of it, apologizing, “Please forgive me. Of course…my name is Milo. Milo Finn. Please accept a gift…” He turns my hand over, removes the gold cross around his neck, and tucks it into my palm. I stare at it, a little confused before he follows up with, “I hope you will find it as enlightening as I have.”

  When we conclude the meeting, I rush out to return to the preparation room so BODY and NAILS may remove the Sea Star from my skin. By the time it finishes, Sky should be in the room with our twins. He’ll know what to do. And it’s time I told him about the girl from this morning.

  While we discuss the day, the twins sit in their bubble chairs, suspended above the floor, which allow them to bounce and pop the musical bubbles floating up toward them from the new device that was waiting for us when we arrived. There was a note attached.

  Your reward. H.

  Since their giggles combined with the random music are loud, Sky and I use a shield screen to dim the noise and get the added perk of keeping a close eye on them while they can’t see us, which we need.

  “It’s a perk,” I say, trickling a finger across the shield, marveling at the voxels that scatter only to dissolve back into the screen.

  “Or we could’ve gone into the bedroom to monitor them from the sprite-light screen,” Sky shoots back.

  “I like being in the same room with them, but it doesn’t work if they can see us. They’d just want to tackle you all the time,” I point out since it’s well past bedtime, but I can’t delay this any longer.

  Sucking in a breath, I tell Sky about the strangled girl.

  “It’s happening again, isn’t it?” I say as he gazes at the table, lips grim, pondering. “Because of me…”

  He firmly shakes his head. “Don’t.�
��

  “It’s true. Mockingbird, Magnolia, Queran, even my father…they all killed because of me.”

  Sky rubs his hands down his face, and I wait for him to deny it. “We don’t know anything, Serenity. Could be a random act of violence. For all we know, it could have been an act of passion from a jealous competitor or security guard.”

  I don’t bother to remind him how little security is on this level due to the location of Haven’s personal office and how she oversees everything. Whatever the case, he is right about one thing—we don’t know enough yet. I try not to think about how much I want him to deny my former statement regarding those who had killed for me.

  Instead, I bring up the next matter. “Do you know the name Milo Finn?” I dig the cross out of my pocket, then drop it in his hand.

  Brows sinking low, he inspects the cross, dangling it in the air like a pendulum before recognition dawns on him. “Task Force. He’s part of this coast’s branch. Never met him in person. Just screen interactions and reputation. Before my arrival, I sent a wave of messages out to the Task Force asking for any information. Finn presented some of the best intel I needed to get here. He operates out of a nearby church. Many girls have gone missing from the nearby Glass District. They have ended up in the Sanctuary thanks to his help. Does a good job.” Sky runs a large finger across the cross, hunting for something. Just then, he presses down on the center of the pendant, which suddenly projects a sprite-light image of the priest.

  “Skylar and Serenity Storm, I wish our first meeting were under much better circumstances. As soon as the Task Force became aware of your plight, we knew we had to act. Do not give up hope yet, my friends. We are working hard on your behalf to get you out. It is too risky to contact you again this way. For the sake of appearances, I will only speak to your wife through interactions at present. If either of us discovers an alternate location, please arrange a third party to alert me in a nondescript way via room 257 at the Reefside Hotel. This message will self-destruct upon conclusion.”

  In another second, there is nothing left of the projection apart from voxels that quickly dissolve. Nothing but a gold-plated cross now.

  “Is there an alternate location, Sky?” I ask, looking to him for answers.

  “There might be.” His lips discover a smile. It looks good on him since I see so few these days. “It’s ironic, but according to the blueprints, the waterfall has some weak spots on certain levels. The noise is loud enough so a private conversation can be had.”

  Ironic indeed. I also smile, remembering our secret rendezvous in the Aviary. It was where Sky and I would meet, where we would compare notes, talk about escaping…and where he kissed me for the first time.”

  “Now, all we need is a neutral party that won’t be a red flag,” Sky muses, sliding a hand across the table.

  I grin. “I might have an idea.”

  I can’t sleep. Every time I shut my eyes, my memory plunges into images of the strangled girl. Tempted to use the DreamR app, which allows preprogrammed brainwaves to infiltrate my sleep but not confident in any technology at the moment, I stir out of the bed, careful not to wake Sky. At first, I wander around the kitchen, debate on whether to turn on the TV, but Verity is a light sleeper. Instead, I find myself wandering the halls of this level, taking in the various luminescent life. Silent angels floating through the blackness.

  Down the hall on my right is Haven’s office. I hear…violence. And shrieks.

  I follow the sounds to discover her door is ajar.

  Her gown leaves little to the imagination. Curves as deadly as her reputation. And when she cracks the whip, she puts me to shame, her wrist flicking as sharp and graceful as a shark shifting direction. And her prey is…Wylder.

  “You were there,” she raises her voice, her tone scolding as one would a child. “Who are you, Wylder?”

  “Your assistant director,” he wastes no time in replying, but he gasps when she strikes him again, and he corrects himself, “Your assistant director, Director Graves.” No matter how many times I’ve seen it, no matter how many times I’ve used it, the whip still causes my insides to squirm, my intestines becoming giant hooked worms.

  “Who is responsible for this?”

  “I am, Director Graves.”

  “Very good. Now, rise.”

  As soon as he does, teardrops or sweat and blood tumbling from his back, Haven steps forward and kisses him. Long and full on the mouth. His shoulders lift, neck cocks, leaning in to welcome her mouth. Haven’s mouth. His own sister. Knots form in my stomach at the sight. For once, I understand more than ever how they operate, but I’m more mystified than ever at why.

  16

  U n L i K e l y A l l Y

  * * *

  This should be interesting.

  I knock on the penthouse door, not surprised he chose to stay here for his vacation. He always did like the finer things.

  Tristan opens the door, shirtless, hair a little disheveled. “Yes?”

  I almost forgot I was using a spectra-mask—the latest in technology that is an insta-prosthetic that alters one’s face just enough to fool individuals, though not facial recognition programs.

  Just after I remove the mask, Tristan grabs me by the arm and yanks me toward him, “Get in here, gorgeous!” He welcomes me in with a warm embrace. Emphasis on warm since his skin temperature is at least a few degrees hotter than mine. That’s when I notice the built-in sauna of his room with the door open and the miniature pool just large enough for a few laps taking up one whole room through a set of glass doors next to the sauna.

  “Lovely room,” I compliment, peering around, noticing the balcony that overlooks the Commons.

  “You’re welcome anytime, princess. Open door,” he jokes right before closing the door behind me. “Care to join me for some escargot?” He gestures to the table set for one near the balcony. “I’m analyzing today, and I will be sampling tomorrow for my channel.”

  “Channel?” I eye the meal on the plate, wrinkling my nose at how unappetizing the idea of snails is.

  “Meals and Museums, princess. Surely, you’ve heard of it,” Tristan scoffs, snatching up one of the snails. “I tour Museums around the country, trying their popular dishes. Roast swan at The Aviary is a top seller,” he hints, nudging my elbow.

  “Oh, so you’re a foodie.”

  “One of my many talents.” He touches his chest, bowing his head a little. “Have you reconsidered your position?”

  I blink for a moment, realizing he’s referring to the Syndicate’s offer. Clearing my throat, I get down to business. “No, but I have a proposition for you.”

  “I’m listening.” He embarks into the kitchen, turns on the faucet where the programed water pirouettes into fish shapes, and splashes some on his face.

  I come up behind him. “A trade.”

  Jerking his head up, he cocks his head with a wayward grin while flicking water droplets off his hands. “Sorry, princess. I don’t swing that way.”

  Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I merely grin and plant a hand against the counter, leaning toward him. “One favor for me, one Temple share for you.”

  “Hmm…a little tit for tat, eh?” Tristan crosses his arms against the counter beside me, swinging his head, nose almost brushing mine. “You realize your shares account for over half the company, which means well over a hundred billion?”

  Getting a little closer so my breath hovers just above his, I retort, “I have a lot of favors.”

  Pulling away, Tristan straightens, collecting himself before waving a hand toward me as if to offer a counter proposal. “Tell you what, princess. One share and one board meeting with the Syndicate. We’ll sprite light it all. You won’t even have to be there. Course…you’ll have to don the Yang costume that shows off that gorgeous ass of yours.”

  I contemplate the idea. One board meeting. Most I attended with my father were boring. Mostly tending to Temple affairs, discussing finances, stock, occasional obstacles. S
ince the Temple hasn’t even opened yet, I can imagine all they’ll want to do is try to convince me to resume my position. Having the Aquarium contract may work in my favor for once. Just one meeting doesn’t mean a commitment.

  Finally, I succumb. “Agreed.”

  “Excellent! I’d ask if you want to seal it with a kiss, but under the circumstances…”

  Before he can say another word, I tiptoe up to him and touch my lips to his cheek.

  “I knew it.” Tristan taps my nose, chuckling. “You really do have a sweet heart under all that crazy. Come with me. I need your help.”

  He gives me a light smack on the rear before wandering toward the balcony. Rolling my eyes, I follow him into the open air of the Commons, my eyes immediately drawn to the huge waterslide tube that pivots just a couple of hundred feet from the penthouse balcony. From here, I can hear the crowd sounds. Children laughing, some screaming from the rides, people chatting on the transporter trains, the whizz of selfie cars driving to various destinations, and more.

  Tristan hands me a pair of binoculars. Lightweight ones with a digital signature.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, accepting the binoculars.

  “Scouting,” he says as if it’s obvious before pointing to the gated entrance of the resort. “Rate the fresh meat coming in for me. Anything less than an 8.4, I won’t take.”