All of Us with Wings

by Michelle Ruiz Keil

  Justine became animated as she detailed Pad’s history of outrageous seduction and scandalous indiscretion, but carefully navigated around her own relationship with him. Drunk enough to ask, Xochi was cut off with a wave of Justine’s manicured hand.

  “Pad and I are old news. Ancient history. But”—she raised her red eyebrows“—what about you and Pad? I’m sure he hasn’t been able to resist all this.” Her gaze swept up Xochi’s legs to her breasts, landing on her eyes.

  “Pad and me?” Heat rose along the fault line of Justine’s appraisal.

  “Keeping it a secret?” Justine blinked, her long lashes performing a sweet reveal of her gorgeous eyes.

  “Nothing to keep,” Xochi said. “I didn’t ask for it, but I think I’ve got myself a big brother. Overprotective, but his heart’s in the right place.”

  “And is he right?” Justine leaned forward.

  “About what?”

  “Do you need to be protected?”

  Xochi’s brain veered to Eris Gardens. What were Io and Leviticus doing now? She took another drink and set the flask on the floor between her and Justine. She closed her eyes. The green girl as swan-haired Medusa appeared, framed in gold, fixed like an image from a tarot card.

  “I don’t know,” Xochi said. “I used to think so. Now I’m not so sure.”

  Justine lay back on the mattress. Her dress slid up her leg to reveal the grass-green snake tattooed around her thigh.

  Xochi leaned forward. “Wow. It’s incredible. That must have hurt.”

  “It was a rite of passage for me. This city changes you.”

  “Why a snake?”

  “It’s not just the snake.” Justine raised herself to her elbows. “It goes up and sort of slithers around to my back.” She sat up, her dress riding higher. “In the Bible, snakes are about temptation and evil. But way before the Bible, they were symbols of wisdom and healing. Do you want to see the rest?”

  Justine pulled her dress up to her thigh to show Xochi how the snake twisted around her leg. She turned toward the wall and unzipped her dress. The snake wound around an enormous tree. Planted at her tailbone, its tallest leaves reached the back of her neck. It was hung with all kinds of fruit, real and imagined, with one more vivid than all the rest: a perfect apple, bloodred.

  Justine lifted her hair away, an invitation to touch. Xochi was tentative at first, her finger shaking as it traced leaves and branches and trunk, following every line and curve of the drawing. Justine’s jasmine scent was strongest at her neck. Xochi leaned closer, her mouth an inch above Justine’s pale shoulder. Her lips rested there, and then her tongue took up the tracing, her piercing sparking along the tattooed branches. When she reached the apple, she didn’t think; her teeth just sank into the bright-red center of the forbidden fruit.

  36

  Femme Fatale

  The warehouse was even more crowded when Xochi and Justine returned to the party, lips swollen, makeup smudged, hands entwined. They danced, scandalous with tequila and lust. Finally, Xochi surrendered to her sore feet and pulled Justine to the sidelines. They collapsed on a sofa. Justine blew on Xochi’s forehead, her breath deliciously cool. Xochi took the last sip of her gin and tonic, but what she really wanted was water.

  “Need anything?” Xochi asked. Justine nodded, leaning in for a kiss. When Xochi pulled away, Justine’s eyes were already open. Had they been open the whole time? Other eyes were on her, too, sliding away as Xochi stood up. Walking took more concentration than it should have.

  There was a line at the bar. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She turned around: Kylen.

  “What the hell?” he said.

  Xochi blinked. He was so beautiful tonight. Black kohl lined his eyes. His hair was pulled back into a French braid that ended halfway down his back.

  “Dude,” Kylen said. “Justine is a menace. Like, a social disease.”

  “Since when do you care?” Xochi swayed. She was drunker than she’d realized.

  “I just don’t want you to bring that shit home. It was hard enough getting rid of her the first time.”

  “Whatever,” Xochi said, the caricature of a bratty teen. And why not? Tonight was the first time she’d actually felt young in ages.

  “Whatever?” Kylen shook his head. “That’s all you got?” He didn’t sound much more mature than Xochi. “Fine, then. Have fun.”

  Back at the sofa, Justine’s eyes were closed. Hopefully, she’d missed the little scene with Kylen. She reached into Xochi’s pocket for another cigarette. They sat in silence, smoking and watching the crowd. The music changed from hip-hop to a pounding techno that made Xochi’s head ache. She stared at the photo on the opposite wall. This picture was less stark than some of the others, almost sepia toned, a close-up of a typewritten piece of paper that was probably a tattoo. “I think that’s Leviticus!” Xochi said.

  “I think you’re right.” Justine ran her finger along Xochi’s arm. “People say Pad’s better looking. But Leviticus? Way hotter, if you ask me. He pretends to be modest, but he knows it. How could he not? And he’s got the perfect setup—a rich wife who pays the bills and doesn’t care who he sleeps with.”

  Xochi was dizzy. She downed the rest of her water.

  “Of course, what happens behind closed doors doesn’t quite live up to their shiny rhetoric.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You must have noticed.”

  Xochi flushed.

  “I see you have.” Justine laughed like they were sharing secrets at a slumber party. “He likes us young, doesn’t he? At least he’s got good taste.” She pushed Xochi’s hair behind her ear, caressing her neck. Despite Justine’s words, pleasure dripped down Xochi’s spine. “It’s not about us, though, is it? It’s all about the two of them, no matter who they’re using to act out their sad little drama. Io may not want Leviticus for herself, but she certainly doesn’t want anyone else to have him, does she?”

  “Wait. So you and Leviticus were . . . together?” Xochi tried to imagine it. Was she missing something?

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I mean, it took a while. After I finally got over it, I felt sorry for him.” She leaned in closer, her hair tickling Xochi’s ear. “I can see it in your eyes. I don’t want you to get hurt,” she whispered. Her lips touched Xochi’s again, lightly this time, pulling her closer, burning the words into her body until Xochi understood: She was nothing to Leviticus. Just another girl. Just like Justine.

  Justine kept talking. “He’s so hung up on Io. The rest is distraction, games to pass the time. I knew that, but I couldn’t resist. You know guitar players—great hands.” Xochi flashed to Leviticus’s precision with her body, the laughter in his eyes. “You can’t blame him,” Justine said. “You never get over your first love.”

  37

  Stella Blue

  Blue wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing at the black marble sink. Melly and Kim had wanted to party, so here they were—another back room where the old guys kept the drugs. Duncan was better than some of them. All he wanted was a blow job to get all three of them high. As always, they did rock-paper-scissors. As usual, Blue lost.

  At least Melly was right about one thing: Duncan’s drugs were very good. This was her favorite feeling, a Goldilocks high where everything was just right. She fluffed her hair so the curling iron waves would spring back up, but it was hopeless. Turning to leave, she spied something in the window. Two little kids! The poor things were naked and alone, and here it was past midnight. She stumbled for a second, but managed the latch just fine.

  “Come on in, you guys.”

  They must be hippie kids with all that long hair. She knew what that was like. Their parents had probably left them on a freezing school bus while they were off dropping acid at a Dead show. Shivering, the two kids plopped down to the slate floor, one after the other.


  Now that they were inside, she noticed the kids looked kind of weird. They had the longest hair she’d ever seen and one looked sick and greenish. When she put her hand on the sick kid’s shoulder, it was ice cold.

  “You guys should take a hot shower.” She smiled to reassure them. “Check it out, this bathroom rocks.”

  She showed them the tiled stall and turned on the water, adjusting the temperature till it was nice and warm, but not too hot. Sometimes kids had a hard time figuring out stuff like that. She’d hated bathing in strange bathrooms when she was little.

  The two kids bowed their heads to her, like they were saying thanks. Maybe they didn’t speak English. Or maybe they were just shy. They stood there, waiting for her to leave before they got in.

  Checking herself in the mirror, she wiped the smudged lip gloss from around her mouth and reapplied it carefully. There, now. Good as new.

  “Take as long as you want,” she said, fixing the hem of her miniskirt. “I’m locking the door. There are some sketchy people at this party, you know? You guys should take off after you warm up. It’s not the best place for kids.”

  38

  Fates and Furies

  Xochi followed Justine to the back of the warehouse and teetered upstairs in Kiki’s high-heeled boots. Justine took her keys out again and unlocked the door to a large room. The walls flickered blue with the light of several aquariums. A huge TV stood in the corner playing a black-and-white war movie, the sound on mute. In the back corner of the long narrow space was a bed. It was dark, but Xochi could see a man sitting on the edge. Someone sat behind him, rubbing his shoulders.

  A black leather sofa beckoned. Xochi slid her hand from Justine’s and sat down as a door at the back of the room opened, releasing steam and a buoyant giggle, too light for the thick air.

  Xochi closed her eyes. She tried to remember how much she’d had to drink, counting tequila shots and gin and tonics. Way too many, that was all she knew. Another mistake in a series of mistakes. How long before everyone in the house knew about her and Leviticus?

  “Duncan,” Justine called back toward the bed. “Come meet my friend.”

  Duncan’s smooth face contradicted his silver hair and tired eyes. He wore his jeans and T-shirt like a twenty-five-year-old. “Hello there.” He smiled. His teeth were crowded and yellow, a hint at the real creature inside. Xochi knew she should answer, but she didn’t. It seemed absurd, like exchanging pleasantries with a crocodile.

  “Xochi lives at Eris Gardens,” Justine said. “She’s the nanny. But I have a feeling she has some other duties at night.”

  Xochi saw herself fleeing, running through the party like a deer in the forest, not stopping until she found a place that was empty and fragrant and green, but she was too tired for that. Too tired and too wasted.

  She closed her eyes for a moment’s peace in her dream forest, but it was gone, replaced by a steaming swamp. Reptile country. Heat flooded her limbs.

  “Let me guess,” Duncan said, sitting down next to Xochi. “Wild night? Justine certainly is a handful.”

  Xochi rested against the cool leather and closed her eyes again. The fog was thicker now. The green girl and her brother lifted their faces to a hot tropical rain. Heat rose to Xochi’s face. Alcohol seeped from her pores. She wished she were home, naked under her own cool sheets. Duncan reached over her, handing something to Justine.

  When she raised her head and opened her eyes, Justine’s arm was clamped above the elbow by a rubber tube. She gave Xochi a long look and pierced the tender crease of her arm with the needle. Duncan did the same. Xochi sat between them, strapped into the roller coaster for the duration of the ride. Justine’s hand opened, the syringe dropping to the arm of the sofa. A spot of blood bloomed in the pinprick wound, but Justine didn’t seem to notice. She leaned back, hair covering one eye as the rest of her face melted into dreamy softness.

  Xochi lit the last cigarette in Kiki’s case. Justine took it from Xochi’s fingers, dragged, and passed it to Duncan. She sat up and opened the hinged lacquered box resting on her lap, then withdrew a syringe. She gazed at Xochi, leaned in to kiss her, then stopped and waited.

  This was a test.

  Xochi turned to Duncan. He took another drag of her cigarette and returned it. Xochi smoked, putting her lips where his had been. His and hers and Justine’s.

  39

  No Big Deal

  Kylen leaned against the wall, enjoying the view at the bar—buzzed hair, brown skin, short and muscular. In addition to being easy on the eyes, it seemed that Mike the drummer wasn’t exactly straight. He looked back at Kylen, gave him a nod.

  A few yards behind Mike, Kylen spotted a familiar leather jacket. What the hell was Leviticus doing here? He hated this kind of crap. “Lev,” Kylen called, making sure the syllables cut through the techno drone. He strode through the crowd toward Leviticus and grabbed him in a hug meant to confirm or deny his suspicions. With people he was close to, one short touch was usually enough, but Leviticus was onto him.

  “Nice try.” He thwarted the hug with a rough but friendly block.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Kylen grinned, wide enough to show his pointed incisors. “It’s obvious anyway.”

  Leviticus rolled his eyes, a move copped from Pallas. “How’s your night?”

  “Pretty good.” Kylen gestured toward Mike, heading back with their drinks.

  “I always liked that guy. Guess he finally lost the girlfriend.”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  Leviticus looked tired and bummed. Kylen felt a pang. He wouldn’t be happy about Xochi and the Demon Spawn. Hopefully he hadn’t seen them sucking face.

  Mike made it back through the crowd to join them. “Hey, Leviticus.”

  “What’s up, Mike?” Leviticus grasped his arm. “How’s Buffalo?”

  “Cold. Wish I could move out here. One of these days, maybe. How’s the family? Last time I was at the house, it was friggin’ nuts.”

  “Right, last Equinox,” Kylen said. Mike had had the girlfriend then, but it hadn’t stopped him from making eyes at Kylen all night.

  “You know that redhead? I think she lives here now,” Mike said. “I saw her earlier making out with some girl.”

  Leviticus was instantly on edge.

  “You guys might know her, actually. I think she came in with Bubbles and Pad?”

  Swoosh, Kylen thought as Mike’s little guillotine decapitated his plans for the night.

  Lev’s eyes went dark. He turned to Kylen. “Did you see Xochi with Justine?”

  Instead of meeting his gaze, Kylen stared at Mike’s drummer’s arms—muscular, tattooed to the wrist. So pretty. And leaving tomorrow. Fuck Leviticus and his bullshit.

  “I saw her,” Kylen admitted. “Like an hour ago. I told them to get a room.”

  “Where is she now?”

  Mike piped in, a total gentleman—not what you’d expect if you saw the guy onstage. “When I was looking for the bathroom, I saw her and Justine heading up some stairs. The sign said ‘private,’ but Justine blew right by it. They both looked kinda wasted.”

  Damn. No matter how much Xochi irritated Kylen, Duncan’s room was no place for a kid like her, especially not without some nunchucks or a can of mace. Considering the way she’d fought the other morning in the garden, she might be fine. But she wasn’t sober. And aikido was no match for the games Justine and Duncan liked to play.

  “I’m sorry,” Kylen said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  But Leviticus was already heading for the back of the warehouse.

  “Need company?” Mike asked.

  “Absolutely. Lev’s not much help unless diplomacy is required.”

  “I promised Io,” Leviticus said, pushing through the crowd. “No fighting. All men are brothers and all that.”

  “Yeah,” Kylen said, “br
others who need to get their asses kicked.”

  “I’m in, man.” Mike hurried to catch up. “I hate that Duncan guy. He hit on my cousin once. She was, like, fifteen. That brunette looked young, too.”

  “She is.” Leviticus gripped Kylen’s shoulder, an admission and a silent truce. Kylen winced: Xochi’s eyes, unguarded and surprisingly wise. Her face, illuminated in firelight. Serious, intelligent, sincere. And beautiful? That didn’t even come close to the way Leviticus saw her. Kylen couldn’t deny it now: Xochi had been family since the day Pallas brought her home. He should have protected her.

  40

  Acid Bath

  One of Justine’s superpowers was a certain immunity to drugs. She could get loaded enough to have a little fun, but a part of her always stayed sober. This internal governor was a heavy burden for thrill-seeking, pain-insensitive Justine. Entertaining herself was no easy task.

  Xochi had been promising at first, but things had turned predictable. There were only so many ways this sort of thing went, so Justine and Duncan made a game of it. Justine undid a button on Xochi’s jacket. Duncan unbuttoned Xochi’s shorts. Justine undid another button. Duncan fumbled with her bra . . .

  The doors on both sides of the room burst open at once.

  Finally! Something interesting.

  In one corner was Team Eris Gardens, with an assist from a punk drummer Kylen must have lured away from his harpy girlfriend.

  In the other corner were a pair of psychedelic devil children straight from hell. Justine had seen The Exorcist at least twenty times. The little devils that shot out of the bathroom resembled poor demon-fucked Regan midway through the movie—still pretty, but full-on possessed.

  The water in the fish tanks bubbled and hissed. One of the lids blew straight into the air, bursting into a fine glitter of plastic and glass. Justine hit the floor, grabbing a pillow to shield her face. The next lid blew, exploding into larger chunks that whizzed through the room. Duncan swore, clutching his crotch. His hands turned red. He ran to the bathroom, blood spilling down the front of his designer jeans.