by Amo Jones
“Tatum.” I shake my head.
“Move.” Bishop shoves me toward the limo. I snarl at him, gripping the door handle just as a black Audi Q7 flies down the strip, skidding to a halt in a cloud of smoke. I wave the smoke away from my face and squint my eyes.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bishop curses, shoving me behind himself.
“Nah-uh!” a voice barks behind the cloud.
I know that voice.
“Nate!” I yell, running toward the smoke and straight into his arms. He’s wearing his trademark red baseball cap flipped backward. I’ve never been so fucking happy to see that stupid cap. Pulling me into his chest, he lifts me off the ground, and I wrap my legs around him.
“Hey, Kitty, how you been?” He squeezes me into him.
“Not good,” I answer truthfully. I didn’t realize just how much I missed Nate until I heard his voice. I don’t know if it’s fair that I forgive him and not Bishop, but at the same time, Nate hasn’t threatened my life a hundred times within the space twenty-four hours.
Nate steps backward, his hands dropping down to mine. “It had to be done, sis. You know that.” He searches my eyes. “Right?” I pull my bottom lip into my mouth. “Listen, things have changed. If Bishop didn’t come get you, someone else would have, only you wouldn’t be coming home in a seat on that plane. You’d be coming home in a box.”
I exhale. “I just… I… I guess we have a lot to talk about.”
“Yeah.” Nate smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I guess we sort of do.” He looks directly over my shoulder and grins. “Oh, come on.” I throw a glance over my shoulder to see Bishop flipping Nate off. He tugs on my arm and points to his car. “Get in.” Then he looks to Tatum. “You too!”
Tatum huffs and then stomps toward the car. Slipping my seat forward, I let her slide into the back before pushing it back into place and getting into the front. As I close the door, she whispers from behind me, “What do you think this is all about?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, watching Nate and Bishop talk. “I mean, I know some, but not a lot. At least not right now.” I close my mouth, thinking about the book. They know I still have it. Will the boys let me read it? Are they still going to hide information from me?
Yes. I don’t trust them at all. Though I’m probably dreaming, I’ve never gone down without a fight, so it’s my turn to start playing the dealer, and these boys are about to become my pawns.
Nate pulls open the driver-side door and slides in. “So where are we going?”
I shrug, watching as Bishop gets into the limo and it slowly pulls away. “Take me somewhere.”
Nate winks at me then puts the car in reverse until we’re skidding out in a cloud of smoke. “I know just the place.”
“WHY CAN’T I COME?” TATUM moans, stomping her foot just as she gets out of Nate’s car.
Nate points toward her front door. “Get your ass inside, woman! I’ll deal with you on Monday. At school!”
I whip my head toward him just as Tatum trots off in defeat. “School?” I squeak. “No. No. No. No!” I shake my head, leaning into my door. “No, fuck no, Nate!”
“Hey!” He grins, putting the car into first gear and driving forward. “Not my orders, sis.”
“Oh, okay!” I snap. “And whose orders are they? Because I swear to God, Nate, if you say Bishop, I will kill you. And don’t play with me, because I’ve seen enough death to not flinch if I need to put a bullet between your pretty little eyes.”
“I see you’re still a badass.”
“I see you’re still not very smart!” I quip, shuffling in my seat to face forward. There’s a long pause of awkward silence.
“Look, here’s the thing. I get that you’re all fucked up and broken and messed up in the head over all this shit that’s going on, sis, but this goes a lot deeper than you could even wrap your mind around.”
“Are you going to tell me what this is?” I ask, looking back at him.
He gives an instant “No.”
“Then fuck you. We’re done here.” I lean forward and hit the radio until The Game’s “It’s Okay” fills the silence. What does he mean orders? What—Bishop? Or has something else happened since I’ve been gone? My dad hasn’t reached out to me. Did he know Bishop would be after me? If what Bishop said is true, and if he really did know where I was all along, why did they never take the opportunity and get me? Nothing makes sense, as usual. Leaning my head on the cool window, I close my eyes and try to think of happier times.
“Madison! Don’t touch that!” my mother scolded me, hitting my hand away from the pretty blue frosting.
“Why? I’m hungry!” I demanded, reaching for the cake again.
“Because it’s not for you and you have to learn how to be patient.”
“But whose cake is it?” I asked, tilting my head. I always thought my mom was beautiful. She had long brown hair and kind hazel eyes. Dad said I got his eyes because mine are green, but I think I have some of my mom’s eyes too, because they twinkle in the sun.
“Madison.” My mom smiled, looking over my shoulder. “Honey.” Her hands came to my shoulder. “I want you to meet someone.”
“Okay, but who?” I wasn’t really a small girl. I mean, I was turning five soon. That wasn’t small anymore; that was old enough to start school.
“Madison!” Nate snaps me out of my haze. I turn to face him, swiping the tears off my cheeks.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?” he asks, looking between me and the road ahead of him.
“I’ll be fine.”
I won’t be fine.
Pulling up to our house, I turn in my seat to face Nate. Gazing into his eyes, I smile. “You know… I don’t like you boys much.”
His hand comes over his chest in mock insult. “Really?” he gasps, his eyes wide. “Who would have known?”
“Shut up.” I shove him. “You coming in?”
“I’ve just got to go handle something. I’ll be home a little later.”
“Letting me face the ‘rents on my own, huh?” I ask, inspecting the modern-style brick house. The house I’ve come to call home.
“Sorry, sis, but hey!” he calls out, just as I get out of the car. “If you need like an alibi or anything, I’m your guy.” I roll my eyes and slam the door behind me. If there’s anyone I will need an alibi for, it’ll be against him and his pack, not our parents. Exhaling, I step toward the house and push open the front door. The scent of disinfectant, flowers blossoming, and tarnished wood floats around the familiar surroundings.
“Hello?” I call out, shutting the door behind me and dropping my bag.
“Madison?” Elena calls out, stepping out of the kitchen and wiping her hands. “Oh my God!” She runs toward me and squeezes me into her chest. Tears wet the side of my neck and I inch back, slightly confused.
“Are you okay? Where have you been? What happened?” She panics, her hands running up and down my arms. “Jesus, Madison, your father and I have been worried sick!” Confusion wiggles itself under my skin. No one told her anything? Not even Nate?
“S-sorry,” I mutter, unknowing what story I should be going with. Fucking Nate, couldn’t even give me a heads up before I got out of the car.
“Sorry?” she squeals, her hands running over my cheeks. “I was worried, Madison. So was your father. Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” I follow her into the kitchen, tugging out one of the stools and taking a seat. She pulls open the fridge and takes out some deli meats.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Shaking my head, I answer, “No. Sorry. Not right now. Where’s Dad?”
Putting the sandwich together, she cuts it and then slides my plate toward me. “He’ll be home soon. I’ll call him to let him know you’re home.”
“Okay, thank you.” Picking up the sandwich, I take a small bite and chew slowly. The dry bread and lettuce isn’t helping my parched throat, so I slide off the stool and go to the fridge, takin
g out the carton of OJ. Closing the fridge, I see a note dangles on the door, but it’s written in some foreign, weird-ass language. Latin, I think. I vaguely remember a friend talking about Latin back at one of my old schools, and the words look similar. Why would there be a note written in Latin on our fridge? It’s a dead language; no one uses it anymore, which makes it even more absurd. It would make more sense if the note was written in Japanese.
Tugging it off the magnet, I read over the fancy wording.
Saltare cum morte solutio ligatorum inventae sunt in verbis conectuntur et sculptilia contrivisset in sanguine et medullis.
Pulling out my phone from my back pocket, I punch the wording into Google Translate.
Riddles dance with death when the words are inked in blood and carved with marrow.
The words hit me like a train of destruction. Why would this be on our fridge? Why today of all days? I flip the note over and scan the back. The paper is fresh, the ink clean. It doesn’t look old at all, and—
“Madison, your father is on his way home.” Elena walks in, and I quickly push the note into my back pocket.
“Okay.” I smile.
She points to my sandwich. “Eat up.”
After eating, I climb the stairs and head to my room. I push open my bedroom door and pause at the threshold. Everything is exactly as I left it. My four-poster bed is rooted in the same spot, my net curtains still shade my patio door, and my TV is still sitting nicely on my dresser at the foot of my bed. Walking into my closet, I pull off some hangers and toss them onto the bed. I know I need to unpack and get settled back into my life here, but I have a plan to carry out, and following through will take a lot of time and preparation. Emptying my duffle bag into my clothes basket, I swipe my hair out of my face just as a thump hits the top of my laundry. Bending down, my fingers skim over the worn leather, curving over the emblem embossed into the cover. Tilting my head, I suck in my bottom lip and pick it up, flipping the pages as I make my way back to my bed. Whatever my plan is, I need to continue this book—or diary, or suicide note. It’s the key to everything; I just know it.
Flicking through, I land on the chapter I was up to, after finding out about the Silver Swans.
9.
The Silver Swan
The truth is I don’t know what my husband did to my daughter. He said girls are tainted. There’s no room for girls in his master plan, and that’s how it always will be. He said they would sell the girls, but something dark and doubtful always tickles the back of my mind. My husband is a liar, a cheat, and a manipulator. There’s absolutely no part of him that is truthful or redeemable.
Later that night, after my maid had cleaned me up, Humphrey came back into the cave, sat down beside me, and said, “Girls cannot be born into our covenant, wife. They’re weak by human nature. They must be taken care of at their birth.”
“You’re not God, Humphrey. You cannot deem who bears what when pregnant.”
“No,” he replied simply. “But I can take care of it.”
I shook my head, my heart in tatters, and my life turning bleak, dark, finished. “There will be no Silver Swans born into this family or any of the first nine. They will be demolished.”
“Silver Swans?” I asked, clipped and annoyed.
“The Silver Swan is, in old times, what they would call a tarnished being. Every girl born into the first nine is a tarnished being. It’s no place for a her.”
“Humphrey Haynes!” I exasperated, trying to calm my frantic beating heart. I leaned toward him, inching closer until my lips were a mere whisper away from his cheek. “Did you have our daughter killed?”
He brought his cold, dead eyes up to mine and grinned a devilish grin that churned my stomach. “I did. And every girl after her will also be taken care of. Girls have no place in our lineage.”
I inched backward, my heart sinking in my chest and my eyes watering with grief. “I—I…,” I whispered, speechless in the heartless way Humphrey spoke about our child. My heart snapped in two. “I have to leave.” I ran out of the room and into the forest, the leaves and branches shielding me from the full moon. Kneeling down, I let my tears overflow and my grief overpower me. Crying, yearning for my daughter that I will never know.
I suck in a breath, slamming the book closed. He killed her? And all other Silver Swans? Why? Why am I still alive, and how am I still alive? Are there any more like me?
There’s a knock on the door that pulls me out of my frantic thoughts.
“Come in.” My door opens, and my dad stands in the threshold, his hands pushed into the pockets of his slacks.
“Thinking of running away again?” he asks, his head tilting.
“Are you going to be honest with me?” I retort.
He steps into the room and closes the door behind himself. Dad still looks the same, young, fit, with a sprinkle of gray hair on the sides of his head. “Madison, I can’t answer all the questions you’re going to ask.”
I inch up onto my knees. “What does that mean exactly? You, Dad, I trusted you.”
“Madi,” he whispers, shaking his head. “This world… it’s complicated.”
“I’m the Silver Swan?”
His eyebrows tug together in worry. “Yes.” He takes a seat on my bed and looks toward The Book. “Have you read much more?”
I follow his eye line and nod. “A little bit. They kill the girls? So why am I still alive?”
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Because I was supposed to keep you safe, Madison. Your mother and I, we love you very much.”
“Mom’s death,” I whisper, “was it what I was told?”
Dad looks at me. “No. It’s more complicated than what you know.”
“What?” I screech, shooting off the bed. “Explain.”
“Madison!” Dad’s voice booms with an authoritative tone. “I will tell you what I think you need to know right now. Any other questions will have to wait. Do you understand?” His eyes narrow as he pushes up off my bed. He brushes my cheek. “I love you, Madison, but this is not something you can pry into. I need you to just leave it to me and the Kings.” He leans down so his eyes are square with mine. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” I understand what he’s saying, but there’s no way I’m going to sit on my hands and be left guessing. Not like last time. But I nod, because that’s not something Dad needs to know or worry about—right now.
“Yes. I understand.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. He nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “Now get some rest so you’re ready for school in the morning.” He walks back toward my door and yanks it open. “Oh, and Madison?” he adds, looking at me over his shoulder. “Elena doesn’t know anything. She thinks you ran off for a couple months to be rebellious. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Sure,” I whisper. “Night, Dad.” He leaves, shutting the door behind him. I walk into my closet and pull out some pajamas before slipping into my bathroom, flicking the lock on Nate’s side. Stepping into the hot cascading water, I scrub the last two months off my skin.
“SO WHAT DID YOUR DAD say?” Tatum asks, sucking the juice of her orange off her fingertips. Being back in the atrium isn’t as weird as I thought it would be. It’s like Ally didn’t exist, though. Like everyone just forgot that she had gone, or died, or whatever they thought. What did they know? I understand we’d been gone for a couple of months, but you would think a death in such a small school would impact it a lot longer than that.
“Uh, he didn’t say much. Just gave me the rundown about how I need to keep things away from Nate’s mom.”
Tate pauses. “Why? Hey.” She leans in closer, checking to make sure no one can hear her. “What the hell is going on? You know you can trust me, Mads.”
I know I can; that’s not my issue with Tatum, never has been. I trust her with my life, but it’s the people you trust with your life who you want to protect the most. Telling Tatum every single thing about this… life would only put her in danger.
“I know, Tate,” I whisper back to her. “You know that if I could, I would tell you everything, but I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” she snaps at me.
“Won’t!” I reply, leaning back into my seat. “Now ca—”
“Mads?”
I turn in my seat. “Carter? Hey!” I smile, standing.
He pulls me into his chest. “Where you been, girl?” I don’t miss the deep inhale he takes into my hair.
“Oh, being a rebel.” I smile, pulling away from him slightly.
“Ah.” He grins. “That’s not surprising at all.”
“No,” I answer, ignoring the way everyone in the atrium has silenced. “I guess it’s not.”
Carter’s eyes flick over my shoulder, his smile falling slightly. “Hey, I’ll text you.”
I inch my head around slightly, not bringing my eyes to the group before looking back at Carter. “Okay, I have the same number.” He nods and then yanks me back into his chest again. I exhale. “Hey,” I whisper into his chest. He stills, so I take that as he heard me. “Are you all right?”
He releases his breath, so much so that his chest relaxes. He lets go, drawing me back. “I’ll text you.” His smile stays, but his eyes drop slightly before he turns and walks back out the door.
I stay still, not wanting to turn around and sit back on my seat, because I know that when I do, I’m going to be faced with the Kings. The whispering starts again as all eyes remain glued on me. It’s like the first day all over again, only Ally isn’t here to fuel the fire. Exhaling, and with a slight eye roll, I turn around, my gaze instantly locking on Bishop. I suck in a deep breath at the way his eyes command mine immediately. Everything ceases to exist whenever he’s in the vicinity, which ultimately pisses me off. I hate that I can never control my body whenever he’s in the room. Walking toward the boys, I swallow any and all feelings that I have.
Reaching for Nate, I tap his shoulder. “Can I talk to you?”
