by Emily Shore
All I can think about is one word.
Sister.
I sift through the objects in the treasure box passed Sky left for me. The same box that holds my mother’s old Unicorn photograph. How did my mother find the rest? Bribe a Temple artisan to steal them? Or even…a buyer? I both grit my teeth and shudder at the thought of a buyer roaming the body of my twin. Apparently, they could get close to my sister but not close enough. These must have been stolen right from Force’s penthouse. It’s like opening a broken scrapbook with missing pages and photographs; I can only see shreds of her life.
All these years, I thought Sky was my other half. But she is instead. Every moment since Sky told me about my twin, I haven’t stopped thinking about her. I feel like an intruder. Does she know anything about me?
Other objects whisper to me from the small chest. A paper doll. White as swan’s corpse. A frame imprisoning a pinned butterfly. From my childhood. Wings delicate as the crest of a wave. My parents kept it all this time even when I didn’t want it anymore. These belong to the stage between my childhood and womanhood. The butterfly was a hand-me-down present from my mother. She’s always liked pretty things. I wonder if my sister likes pretty things, too.
All I know is I won’t become a pretty display again.
I’d rather dive headfirst into a quagmire than step foot inside another exhibit. Can’t risk losing myself again.
It’s one reason why I won’t dignify Luc. I don’t want the reminder. His broken promise is the second reason.
I pause at the glass perfume bottle in the chest. Sky told me that my mother can’t bear to open it. Olfactory senses unleash the strongest memories. I uncork the cap. In the bottom, the small drops could be tears—except for the scent. I recognize it from stories my mother’s shared about her time in the Temple. Perfume so luxurious Glass District girls would willingly stage a riot for. He drowned her skin in it. I wouldn’t want the reminder. That’s the difference between us. I would throw it in a tub of gasoline. Sky would hand me a match.
Now, I have my own memories and my own way of coping. Thanks to Luc. Can one grandiose act erase all the ones prior to it? No. I’m more vindictive than that; he’ll have to eat a thousand humble pies before he gets to look at me again. More forgiving to Sky, I chalk up his keeping secrets to the familiar routine we kept all our lives. And his keeping a promise to my mother.
A new visitor.
“I’ve got some food for you.”
Nightingale sets the tray down on the small table in the corner of the room. She and I have a no-knock policy. Just as the door closes behind her, I get a glimpse of Sky. Doing one-armed push-ups. He has to find some way to keep busy, I guess. For one moment, I bite down on my lower lip, admiring Sky’s form a little more than I ever have. That’s one thing that’s changed.
I turn to Nightingale. “Thank you, Gale.” I’ve taken to calling her Gale over the past week. We aren’t in the Aviary anymore, but it suits her. Besides, she’s never told any of us her real name.
“Are you ever going to talk to Luc?” she wonders with no hint of playfulness in her tone. To her, it’s serious.
I shake my head.
“You should eat while it’s warm,” she suggests. By now, though, Gale knows not to pressure me. “Do you mind if I sit on your bed?”
“Go ahead.” I give her permission while glancing at the food before facing the window again.
“How’s your arm? And your chest?”
Busy talk. She knows the implant has finished repairing and regenerating my cells. Sometimes, I wonder why she’s here. Maybe it’s practical. Or maybe it’s a displaced loyalty to Luc for scraping her out of some Family club and turning her into one of his Birds. While her transition from club to Museum was simple, mine was a trial by fire. Despite how well I donned the Swan skin, I feel more like a phoenix flying from the ashes of a broken Aviary. I still haven’t flown out entirely unscathed.
“They’re getting worse,” she says while trickling her fingers across the bedspread, the one carefully selected by Luc. Swan feathers. Equipped with a sprite-light screen, the canopy above the bed shows me dancing swans at night.
“I’m surprised they haven’t killed each other yet.” I’m referring to the boys as I nudge the neckline of my sweater up until it hugs my upper lip.
“That’s brothers for you.”
“Yes…brothers.” My head scrambles at the thought of Luc and Sky’s bitter biological connection.
“Luc spends most of his time in his room doing his digital sketches.” Gale starts to arrange her hair, and I watch as it begins to take shape in the design of a wing. “This is his vacation spot where he gets inspiration.”
She doesn’t need to remind me. Luc’s animated art moves all over the walls in digital frames.
“Just before I came in here, I saw him leave. He took his Family vehicle and drove past the property.”
“Was he going toward the city?” I wonder, assuming if Luc can’t busy himself with Aviary duties, maybe his baser, carnal wants require tending.
But Nightingale shakes her head, denying my suspicion. “No, just the opposite.”
“I don’t care,” I lie through my teeth.
“Skylar just paces outside your door all day. He never leaves.”
And he never will.
After making my way to the table, I pick up a spoon to sample the stew. It’s hearty. Spiced and fleshy potatoes, soft carrots, juicy chicken—not a broth but a creamy chowder. Not my thing at all. Still, it’s all Gale ever brings me. I’ll have to leave the room and select my own order from the 3-D printer if I ever want anything besides soup.
“Why won’t you talk to him?”
I look up from the chowder, knowing she’s talking about Sky because Luc doesn’t want to talk; he would simply be satisfied to look at me.
I raise a spoonful to my mouth, musing over why. Because I don’t want things to change. I want him to blaze through here. Yell at me for being childish without the door in the way. Just enough of a lightning spark to listen. Anger rises in me that he hasn’t. Why change our dynamic now? Because of Luc? It’s not fair. That way we avoid the awkward discomfort. Like we used to. Before Luc.
“Serenity…I haven’t asked before because I’ve known.” Nightingale rises, in grace as she always does, and motions to the objects on the window ledge. “Would you like to tell me about them?”
“What’s there to tell? They belong to my mother and sister.” I eye the paper doll and finish, “And I don’t even know her name.”
“Sky shouldn’t have given them to you.”
I frown. Try not to seethe. “He knows what he’s doing,” I snap, dropping the spoon. “He gave me the truth I’ve been denied all this time. He knows me.”
“He knows you’ve changed.”
I glare. “I. Have. Not. Changed.”
“Not in some regards, perhaps. But you’ve spent every day with those things, working from the top to the bottom. What do you think you’ll find?”
“I won’t find anything.” I scoot my chair back, then approach the items. “I won’t be happy until I see her.” I’m just pretending. Making up stories in my head about her.
Silence eats away at us for a minute or two. I take the time to return to the ledge, curling up and bringing my knees to my chest. Nightingale assumes a position on the opposite side so her slippered feet almost touch mine.
“Serenity…” Nightingale cups my knee, looking me in the eye to conclude. “You know how impossible that would be.”
I roll my eyes and press my back against the ledge wall, feeling my anger catapult inside me. “You sound like Sky.”
“I probably do. He talks about you. He talks about taking you to the Sanctuary. Even talks about drugging you so you’ll fall asleep and wake up there.”
I brace my hands into fists. “He wouldn’t dare.”
She shakes her head with a soft smile. “No, he wouldn’t. You know why? Because he respects you. I’ve
never seen that level of respect.”
Right because Luc doesn’t respect me. He just wants to possess me.
Another voice in my head, smaller but still able to cut through my anger like a bird breaking through thunderclouds, reminds me that Luc gave up his Aviary. Gave up all his Birds, the wealth he’d accumulated, his reputation, his status, his standing in his Family, all of it—for me. Yet, all I can marvel at is how he still holds me like a puppet. If he ever mentions his lost Aviary, he will tug at the strings connecting us. But mine and Sky’s are stronger. Solid gold strings that always stay the same. Never changing. Except for once, Sky is waiting this time. Why?
“You don’t understand how it is between us.” I refer to Sky.
“Maybe not,” she relents. “And what about Luc?”
I grin. “He’d have to kiss my feet long before I’d give him the chance to look me in the eye.”
“Sometimes, I see him sneak into your room to stare at you.”
I turn up my nose. “Who’s lying now?” I would’ve felt him. Then again, Luc’s always been stealthy. Feet of a killer and all that.
Nightingale sighs but doesn’t address the offense. She doesn’t fight the same way I do. “Do you want me to pass any messages?”
“No.” I peer up at her. “Why are you still here? Why don’t you go to the Sanctuary?”
Nightingale stands and surveys me, eyes pinched. “Perhaps I am more useful here.”
I don’t respond for a few moments, just study the landscape past the window, at the trees crowned in mounds of snow like ethereal angel heads. And then… “At least you’ve kept them from killing each other.”
“Yes, I’ve done that. But I won’t manage it much longer. It will be your turn soon.”
“Mmm…” I sigh. “My turn.”
3
F a W n
About an hour after Sky departs, there’s another knock on my door. At first, I think it’s Nightingale, but she normally announces herself and then opens the door. Sky just bangs and yells. So, I know it’s Luc.
I stand in the middle of my room and command, “Go away, Luc! I’m not ready to see you.”
His muffled voice replies, “Seeing me is unnecessary. I’ve brought someone else who wants to see you. But opening the door is required.”
Luc knows my curiosity will ultimately conquer my stubbornness. After a few seconds, I finally open the door. Barely registering his presence, my eyes shift to the small figure standing next to him, clutching his hand.
She hasn’t changed much since I last saw her. Same snowy-white hair with berry-red highlights, but some of the red has faded.
“Fawn,” I murmur, observing her brown eyes that seem out of place against her hair and skin tone.
“It’s what he calls me.” The little girl points to Luc.
So different from Finch. Not an iota of the fierce innocence that drew me to the hatchling at the Aviary. No, Fawn draws me in much like a lullaby would. Even her voice is a soft lilt. Sometimes, I imagine she’s the ghost of my mother’s childhood. A miniature unicorn I must protect at all costs.
“He told me that you chose me.” She shifts her weight a little, swinging one of her arms.
I glance up at Luc, and he eyes me. Nodding, I kneel before Fawn. “I did.”
“I wanted to thank you. I’ve seen your exhibit sprite lights. You look so beautiful. I hope I can swim like you someday.”
I smile at her, but I don’t quite reach out yet. “Maybe I can teach you?”
She nods, chin tucked close to her neck.
“Do you remember your name?” I ask, my fingers fidgety, unsure of what to do with them.
Fawn gazes up at me. “She lost my name. She didn’t care when they lost me.”
I can only imagine Fawn is referring to her mother. With much of the population of children in single-parent homes or in foster care or orphanages, it’s not a surprise. Some are even born in Glass Districts, and it’s no secret children are used to pay off Family debt.
This world grooms children. Boys as both as buyers and as sellers. Boys from elite families, some with a Family branch, managing Museums, international graphicker houses and companies, or working for the Temple. Boys from middle-class families tend to get security jobs for Glass Districts or Carousels or median graphicker studios. Boys from lower-class families with mounting debt are forced into child labor in factories to supply the demand for new tech. The ones with more feminine physical qualities can end up in the Glass Districts, too.
But girls are the most common.
Unless they are Family affiliated, most girls don’t have much of a chance for anything other than serving clients or breeding. Even then, Family ones often end up as madams. There was a time in our history when females were more than their bodies, but between the media and most businesses using sex for profit and technology making common female jobs like teaching and nursing obsolete, our culture became desensitized. Sex became a commodity. Far more lucrative than drugs, bodies reap a higher price because they can be used again and again.
And since the legal age of consent was already so low, laws were passed to lower it for the Glass District, too.
“He named me the Swan.” I motion to Luc before inching toward Fawn a little, hoping the girl will open up more. She’s just a flower bud right now.
“Did your parents lose you, too?” she wants to know.
Sighing, I shake my head. “No, I’m afraid I’m the one who lost them.”
“She’s kept to herself since she’s been in the Hatchery,” Luc informs me. “My flight school as it were. But she often asks to see your Swan feeds, and I thought you would appreciate a visitor.”
Luc’s method is even more expert than Sky’s. He knows this move has granted him the first step to forgiveness. But Luc will have to try a lot harder to pick at my mountainous grudge.
“I’ve tried to track her family down, but—”
Interrupting Luc because I know she wouldn’t want to hear, I ask Fawn, “Do you like your name?”
“I don’t know. Do you like Swan?” Fawn tilts her head to me much the same way a bird would when surveying someone.
Smiling, I remember my days in the Aviary and how it seemed easier with each exhibit to become the Swan. No matter how much I fought, the Swan became a part of me, growing her wings right out of my shoulders. Soon, I couldn’t tell if there were more feathers or more skin. Every time I dove, I swam deeper into the heart of the Swan. The Aviary broke me down over time. Now, the Swan is part of me. Just like my mother couldn’t escape the Unicorn’s identity.
But it still didn’t define her.
Hugging myself, I respond, “I am Serenity, but I have some of the Swan inside me. You have a choice who you want to be.”
Fawn’s eyes depart from me, drawn to the moving bird pictures on the walls. “I like that name. Serenity.”
“Your eyes are beautiful,” I comment. “That’s why he called you Fawn.”
I consider how their shape also reminds me of a fawn or rather a doe. Soon, she will grow, but I can imagine her eyes will always stay the same. Much like a deer, she watches everything carefully and cautiously, quick if threatened. So, I nod and tell the truth.
“Yes…I like Fawn.”
My patience pays off because Fawn inches toward me. She finally embraces me. Her arms, however fragile, seem far stronger than mine. Like the horrors she’s already witnessed or felt in the Glass District put mine to shame. It twists my stomach how that notion is true for countless others.
“Fawn, why don’t you go into the kitchen and get something to eat?” Luc suggests while cupping the child’s head. “Chef-bot will make you whatever you desire.”
Fawn doesn’t delay. The food here is surprisingly good. Wouldn’t have known it was made by a bot. I wrinkle my nose. More jobs taken from women by technology. Employers favor a working bot that is a one-time cost and can work longer hours without breaks.
For a moment, there is silence. Luc
hasn’t changed much in the past couple of weeks. Some stubble on his chin but other than that, he remains the perfect definition of order with his fashionable wardrobe. Still playing the director. Despite losing his Aviary, his lifeblood, Luc’s eyes seem even more alert, more focused. I know why—I’ve become his sole purpose.
Luc’s blue gully eyes seem to regard me with a blank expression. As if he doesn’t know what to make of me here. Unfamiliar territory unlike the Aviary. I keep trying to bury who I was there by injecting parts of my past into my present. But the past doesn’t quite fit anymore.
I can tell this is not a time for emotions or recollection. Unlike me, Luc is fragile. He’s lost everything. His heart is cracking while mine cannot break.
“Please…” I indicate to the window ledge. “Sit. It’ll be like old times.”
Luc is unused to the invitation because he hesitates. I’m not his Bird anymore. He’s set me free, but he’s also caged my debt to him at the same time. Will he use that against me? I wouldn’t put it past him, considering all his manipulation and mind games in the Aviary. I’d like to believe those are over, but Luc has spent the better part of his life mastering that innate talent. It’s his second skin. Suddenly, I wish Sky were here. He’s better at reading between the lines than I am.
Descending onto the ledge first, I draw my legs upward, exposing my bare feet. At least it reposes him enough to position himself on the seat opposite me with his back against the wall. Luc’s shoulders sag low.
I free myself of a sigh and ask, “Was it worth it?”
Finally, I’ve drawn a smile from him, and he angles his head to me. “You’re speaking to me, aren’t you?”
Now, I curse because, as always, Luc still recognizes my transparency. Was Fawn just another mind game? He knows every thought and every move, every motivation while Sky knows—every emotion, which simply helps him predict the rest.
I argue with myself. What does it matter whether I opened the door? It was still my choice. It’s my choice whether I continue speaking to him.
