by Emily Shore
“As I see it, I still have the upper hand.” Sarcastic again, he raises one gloved hand before smoothing it up along my stomach, moving higher.
My father throws a blade, which whistles through the air and finds its mark in the man’s hand. His scream reverberates in my ears at the same time as the assailant’s knife clatters to the floor. I dive right out of his arms but bring one leg up to kick him in the stomach. It reminds me of the time I kicked the auctioneer. Not quite as satisfying, but my father has his moment when he arrives and grabs the blade handle to tug, arresting another scream from the man’s mouth. Finally, he removes the mask, flinging it to the floor.
“Well, now. One of my very own security members, I suppose knocking out Donner was just a ruse to avoid suspicion. What exactly were your plans, Rockwall? I’m extremely interested.”
Rockwall is on his knees now, gripping his shoulder. “Screw you! You should’ve known this would happen, parading her around, dangling her in front of our faces, knowing no man on a guard’s salary could ever afford her, but we’re still supposed to protect her? Screw you!” He spits in Force’s face.
He’s no longer my father in this moment. Once more, he is Syndicate. His next blade cut is for the security guard’s neck. Tit for tat for what he did to me. More slices follow…in various places. Force circles Rocky, meandering around with a sick smile, monster in the seams.
Compared to my father, my shark is a pussycat. The next gash is on Rocky’s back, which causes him to double over in pain. Force is demonstrating his power and position in the Temple, showing the men all around him what happens when someone tries to steal from him. Their gazes are rooted on the display, most donning approving smiles but with squeamish-pale cheeks.
“Serenity…” Luc urges me away from the sight, wrapping me in his coat, anchoring me close to his side. I look back. “My sister—”
“Your sister is fine. Come with me.”
Fine.
There she is on the table—not having moved at all, eyes still closed. Tranquil as—as a swan. She puts me to shame.
Because Bliss is always fine. And I envy her for that.
My father is a real piece of work.
The client sits in a luxurious chair, a duplicate copy of my father’s. At least I’m allowed to wear whatever I want for training, which is my usual clothing. Not Bliss. When I enter the room, wearing a fresh dress, she is kneeling with her head bowed low to the ground, the roll of vertebrae almost cutting through her thin back.
She is topless for him. Only dressed in a pair of thigh-high satin stockings, white and transparent, little bows tied at the top.
“Good evening, Serenity. I trust there are no hard feelings about last time,” Drake comments as he puffs his fine-crafted cigar.
Everything my father does is an act. Even when he pretends to defend me. Drake reminds me of a werewolf with the thick dark beard he sports and hooded eyes beneath shadow-imparting brows. His clothes—or lack thereof—since he remains shirtless as if he’s proud to display the grandeur of his underdeveloped muscles—suggest a casual indifference.
Wrath spikes within me over the events of the past few days. Maybe Force even plotted the attempted abduction to create more stress. In my mind, I conjure up all sorts of colorful torture for him. But the whip is in my hand, and Bliss is at my feet—waiting.
That’s when I notice the laser projection behind Force and Drake. Force must notice because he gestures and states, “Documented today so I may view it later and determine where any errors take place. But I will send the appropriate feeds to Drake later.”
How many feeds have been made of Bliss? I can’t fathom. My feeds are now global, but they are solely of my exhibits. Not this…hell.
I turn to my father, so desperate to use the whip on him. He pats his chest in silent reminder. Beat, beat. Beat, beat. Serafina’s heart beats with his. If that wasn’t enough, the electric baton he carts with him for training is a stinging reminder he is still in control.
I raise the whip.
And strike.
I bring it down on Bliss’s skin harder than I meant to because it separates an older wound with no effort.
Now, I feel it. I loathe it. I loathe myself even more for not stopping it, for letting it bite my butterflies. There’s no excuse for letting the monster out. Whatever has happened—Kerrick’s murder, my mother’s heart numbing, Bliss’s own iciness, Luc’s persistence with me, exhibit pressure, a serial killer marking his symbol onto his victims, interactions, my father—none of these give me permission to unleash this monster. Oh, it feels entitled. It tells me that striking the whip against my sister’s back is a coping mechanism—a way of releasing all the tension and stress of the Temple. Like I’m transferring it from my blood to hers, but does it even sink in or does it just drip down her skin?
In the middle of the process, after I’ve scored more of her back than the first time, Bliss doesn’t cry. And when she smiles even when she’s doubled over with blood trickling down her back, I strike one last time. As soon as she seizes, spasms, and passes out, I sink to the floor, clutching handfuls of my hair, still holding the whip.
Glancing down, I notice I’ve torn my dress sleeve. A second later, the smart fabric repairs itself, sewing the tear closed until there is no trace of any rip. If only inner healing could come that easily.
“Give her a moment,” I hear my father tell Drake.
“This more than makes up for last weekend’s event, Director. I am extremely impressed.”
“Yes, it was a necessary device, you understand.”
“Most assuredly,” Drake says. “This event has proved quite intoxicating. I’ll look forward to replaying the sprite light as the young ones call them now. You should be proud.”
“I am.”
“Bliss is a fine morsel indeed, but it’d still be a thrill to sample your other daughter. Especially given what she is,” he says, referring to my virginity.
“Hmm…” My father chuckles. “It would be a cold day in hell, my friend. Unlike my other daughter, Serenity is far too priceless for you. She is more interested in a long-term engagement. The man for her must be singular indeed, but you are free to ask.”
“Well, then.” Drake sets aside his wineglass and rises. “Interested, Serenity?”
I grit my teeth, twisting my head slowly toward them, rousing the monster into my eyes before crouching and cracking the whip in their direction. My father just beams when it flies within an inch of Drake’s body. Then, Force extinguishes his cigar in the same moment I get to my feet.
“You may want to depart now, Drake. Otherwise, I cannot be responsible for my daughter’s actions. She and I are remarkably similar, you understand. As soon as production of the feeds are finished, they will be sent.”
“Thank you for a splendid evening, Director.”
They shake hands as I approach. When Drake turns to thank me, I crack the whip again. This time it lands, cutting into his sleeve, drawing just a hint of blood. Drake winces but still departs.
Force alerts a medic for Bliss, but I start to leave before the aid arrives. My father seizes me by the arm, and I grit my teeth and raise the whip, growling, threatening.
“You can’t hide from your own father,” he confronts me in a stalemate. Neither of us is prepared to back down. “I know what you were feeling tonight.”
I pinch my eyes together. “You think this helps? It makes it all worse!” I tighten my grip on the handle.
My father touches the back of my hand and tilts his head to the side, peering at me like an owl would. “Then, why do you want to use it more than ever?”
I drop it. Drop it all. Clenching my eyes, I try to get a hold of my emotions, but my father won’t let me go. This time, he lets me strike him. Gratified by the sight of my nails stripping the flesh off his cheek, I pursue him, pushing him, shoving him back and back until he hits the wall, knocking over the table with the wine in the process. He’s up against the wall now. With the lig
htning monster inside me feeding, I raise my fist until I find him laughing, cackling maniacally, and that’s when my eyes take stock of the situation. All my butterflies crash against the monster like a tsunami. Enough to force it back under. Fist crumbles, fingers break apart so I can see gaps between them again.
I almost stumble back, but my father takes me by the waist, then frames both sides of my head to pull me close to his chest.
“My beautiful, beloved daughter.”
Then, he cups my cheeks and tilts my face up to meet his. One feather-light touch of his lips against mine. He strokes the side of my face and then holds me again.
“Shh…”
His fingers feel like fire on my back. On my cheek, his breath is burning rope. I have to get away.
This time, he lets me escape. I run from him. Run from Bliss. I run from it all, but I’m still not free. I crash right into Luc—the last person I want to see, the person I loathe as much as my father.
“Let me go,” I hiss, trying to wrestle from his arms.
He grips my wrists, preventing me, pushing me too hard. “Stay with me, Serenity.”
He’s asking for more than just my physical presence. He understands what happened in that room. My eyes hold enough for a book.
Luc leans in to kiss me, but I break free and scream, “Oh, leave me alone for once in your life!”
23
T o O L a T e
Bliss
This is my punishment. For everything I am. The unchosen twin. The pain reminds me I shouldn’t have been born. That I was broken right from the womb. It’s why I’ve never been able to please him.
Only she can.
How could she ask if I lost my soul when I didn’t possess one in the first place? If I ever had, it hadn’t survived childhood. If it still exists, Father must play with it daily, wondering if it will come to life.
Again and again, my body seizes. It’s beyond a level I can manage, but I still try. I don’t permit my mind to engage in an ice bath—one of my coping mechanisms. Her attacks have more force now. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch one glimpse of her. Her eyes seem to get brighter each day—tinted by Father’s growing fire. Tonight, she’s welcoming it instead of pushing it back. She’s feeding the beast inside her. It won’t be long until Father turns her into exactly what he wants her to be.
Still, I remember to smile.
The blows are closer together now, more insistence in their strikes. Each one is more potent than the last. I want to whimper. By the end, I’ve bitten my tongue to prevent myself from screaming. I taste blood. My entire body is a pattern of scars all joined together to create one. An unworthy blot on the universe. A stain on a glass floor that can never be scrubbed out.
Serenity is the apple of Father’s eye. She is the apple at the very top of the tree—the kind men will climb over each other to get. I am the bruised and rotted apple on the ground. Full of maggots and worms that feed on the leftover pieces over and over because that is what men do. All they ever will do.
24
I m p O s s I b l e t o F i N d
Sky
This is where she feels safe.
I shake my head, smirking at the irony, but I give her the time and space she needs. Just observe for now. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why she’s here. After I witnessed the aftermath in the hall with Luc, I was ready to drop to the ground then and there and knock him out for grabbing my girl. He’s still too much of an idiot to understand that when she’s breaking down, the last thing she needs is someone grabbing her like that.
Sometimes, the best way is to let her get back up again on her own.
Her hands are shaking. I can see it from where I hide at the very back of the audience chairs, concealed in the shadows. In the darkness, her white space sticks out. She’s like a statue of lace. Lace that’s tearing. And this is how she copes.
Normal girls have puppies or kittens. My girl has a shark.
I saw her footage live on her lower-level suite screen. It was easy, knowing her father wouldn’t interrupt me. Too close a call. I even got into the hallway with the full intent of marching into the exhibit room, diving into the water, and taking on the shark—two hundred and forty teeth and all since I’m counting the developing ones. But the song was still playing in the background, so I chanced a glance back, and there she was. Swimming toward the thing!
My impossible girl.
I sat and watched every last agonizing minute.
My smile grows when I overhear her speaking to it. I’m sure she’d cope better in the water, but she respects the predator’s privacy. They’re still getting acquainted after all.
I watch as the shark sweeps past her, and she traces her hand against the glass of the tank, following him.
“You know what it feels like, don’t you, big boy?” Her words are farther away, but I still hear them. “You’re not trying to be a monster. Certain people, circumstances can bring out the worst in you. You’re built for it. Like it’s fate, ingrained into your DNA, but that still doesn’t give you a right to bite peoples’ heads off, does it?”
She presses her hand to the glass, angling her head to the shark. Since I manipulated the cameras in the exhibit room, I can make my way down. But she’s working her way back up from her knees, so to speak. So, I give her a little more time to work out her own thoughts.
“Maybe it gives you a reason, an explanation, but it doesn’t make it right. But what do you do? What are you supposed to do when the blood is dangling right in front of you? When she just… lets you? When someone will get hurt no matter what. It feels so impossible.”
“It’s not impossible, Ser.”
“Sky?” She turns to me, surprise registering, but she doesn’t run to me even if I’m still on the stairs a good few paces away.
She’s not quite ready yet. So, I keep things light enough for her.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I stroll down the concrete steps to join her by the tank. “Nice shark. What are you gonna name him?”
“Why? Did you have something in mind?” She smiles.
Good.
“Shouldn’t ask me.” I shrug. “You know I’m not good with names. All I can come up with is something stupid like Jaws.”
“That is really stupid,” she banters.
Better.
“I was thinking something more fitting. Like Sharky.”
“Hmm…” Crossing my arms over my chest, I study the Great White. “Works for me.”
I press a hand to the glass. She does the same. Starts to inch it little by little to mine. I don’t move. I let her come to me. She tugs on my sleeve, harder. That’s when my arms come around her. When I surround her. The back of her head sinks onto my chest, and her arms crisscross over her chest to welcome mine folding over them. I cave, bringing her down with me so she can feel free to crumble into me.
Sharky sweeps past us, tail swinging toward her.
I tilt my head down. Press my mouth to the side of her head. “I think he misses you.”
My mouth finds her cheek, tasting salt there. Leftover from sweat or from her swim, it’s difficult to tell. Either way, she smells and tastes like my Serenity.
“What if you miss me?”
It’s not difficult to read between the lines with her. “You’ve got more fight in your pinky than most girls have in their whole body. You got me backing you. You got your mother’s love. You got Kerrick’s raising. And we got heaven smiling down on us.”
“How do you know?”
I nudge her so she will look up at me. Need her to understand that some things in life can never be accidents. Her and me? We’re not an accident.
“Because I wasn’t supposed to be there that day.” I kiss the tip of her adorable nose. “I wasn’t supposed to be on that floor, in that hall, or by that elevator. No lucky stars or coincidences, Ser. That was too big a moment to leave to chance. Someone out there’s looking out for us. I told you we can beat this world.”
; “What if I can’t beat myself?”
“You can.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know.”
Straightforward.
“That’s a lousy answer. Like when you used to tell me ‘because I said so’. I never listened. I need a reason.”
On the verge of grumbling, I somehow muster up a simple sigh and try to figure out the right words. “Hold onto your passion. Hold onto your love. You hold onto your magic, Ser. Never let it go. I’ll hold onto my faith. Simple as that.”
Between the facts, the reasoning, the plans and processing, and my brain firing a million miles a second, faith is what keeps me sane.
“Nothing’s felt too magical lately,” she says.
“I beg to differ!” Giving her a little poke, I nod toward the tank where Sharky swims past us.
Finally! It’s about time I roused a giggle out of her. It must multiply inside her because she throws her head back against my chest—full-blown laughter. I chuckle. That’s my crazy, cockamamie girl. I inhale the scent of her hair all around me. Perfume practically drowns all the strands, but if she doesn’t care, I don’t either. Serenity could smell like a dung beetle, and I’d still want to kiss her senseless.
“Come here whenever you need to,” I tell her, gesturing to the tank.
She cranes her head to see me. “Is this our waterfall, Sky?” she asks, referencing our meeting place in the Aviary.
I grin. “It’s better.”
“Almost.”
I know that look in her eye. The one she gets right before she closes her eyes and starts to lean up to me. I meet her. Unless she’s just gorged herself on chocolate, Serenity’s never tasted sweet. Nevertheless, she’s exactly right for me. Her mouth reminds me of our times in the water together—all depth and memories, few clothes but many secrets. That’s what I want for the rest of our lives.
