by Emily Shore
Cocking my head, I drop my hand. “And what true nature is that?”
“Whatever the client may want, of course. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Chrysanthemum mimics my action and reclines the side of her face onto her hand. “Every woman wants to be desired, to be wanted. To get lost in our fantasy. Jade gives us that. She protects us. I pity her because she never has that opportunity. She can never let her guard down. She can never experience that complete trust because she has to think about each one of us every second of the day.”
“She does a lot more than think.”
Chrysanthemum’s shoulders sink with a sigh, and she kicks her legs back and forth again. “I’m not ashamed of who I am. Isn’t that the very definition of confidence? I don’t feel embarrassed in any way. I’m making the choice to be vulnerable and bare myself.” I recognize Jade’s voice coming out of her mouth. How long has Chrysanthemum been sucking Jade’s poison? “I have faith in Jade, respect her, and open myself up to whatever she requires. In return, she shields us, feeds us, provides whatever we may need, and we experience fantasies here that we can nowhere else.”
Jade still controls them. Even if it’s different from the Glass District and the Temple, it’s not freedom. Not any of it. Why do we have to live in a world where this demand is so high? The demand for girls’ bodies, for chunks of warm flesh, and for uncontrollable fantasies? Why can’t we live in a world where every man can be like…Sky?
Chrysanthemum rises to a sitting position, shimmying just a little. “Jade planted me here. Plucked my roots from the Glass District. I was bloody and bruised when I came here because they don’t protect girls in the Districts.” She reinforces my first thoughts. “Just rotate them as quickly as they can—one after the other. Quantity over quality. I submitted to four thousand men before I turned sixteen. Here, there’s more creativity. We welcome the chance to venture into unchartered territory. Jade gives us that opportunity.”
I still can’t get over the offhand statement of four thousand. How numb Chrysanthemum must be. How she must have folded into any new identity to lose the pain of her original one.
“So, why do you feel the need to run?” I challenge.
Chrysanthemum shrugs a little. She eyes me before planting her hands in front of her, fingers curling into a plea. “Promise not to make fun of me?”
I roll my eyes but don’t move. “Why would I?”
Chrysanthemum leans over just a little so her marmalade hair dips onto her chest. “I’m claustrophobic. Silly fear, I know.”
“Not really.” Not considering where she came from.
“No, it really is because the Garden exhibits are twice the size of the Glass District ones. I’d just rather skip them and get right to the fantasy, but it doesn’t work like that.”
Chrysanthemum can’t sit still. I know I have a habit of fiddling with my hair, but Chrysanthemum is far fussier than me.
“So…thanks for what you did,” she says, referring to my fall. “But you don’t have to next time. I accept Jade’s power over me. It’s her way of caring.”
“I still don’t understand it.”
“Oh, I think you do. You just can’t relate. Maybe someday you will, but you seem like a fighter. And a fighter who doesn’t like to lose the fight.”
When I give her a hollow stare, Chrysanthemum explains, “Some girls always start with fight, but they lose it pretty quickly. You don’t strike me as that type. You remind me of Jade that way…just a younger, purer version. Like you’ll always have this way about you. Doubt it’ll disappear even after your first fantasy. Ooh!” She glides right into that subject. “Wonder what kind of fantasy you’ll have? Maybe one will choose the underground grotto pool. Or maybe Jade’s island with the lagoon. Or a sky-sailing adventure. Or—”
Magnolia interrupts when she enters the room with my costume for the night. “Good evening, Skeleton Flower. Chrysanthemum…” She keeps her words light.
Chrysanthemum cups a hand to her cheek to whisper to me, “I still haven’t figured out how she does that.”
“I smelled your peach cream the second I walked inside,” Magnolia announces as she sways toward us.
“Well, I was talking about how you like to sneak up on people, Maggie. But now that you mention it…” Chrysanthemum jerks a thumb toward the other girl. “She’s got some pretty mad superpowers, eh?”
“Thank you, Chryssie.”
“Chryssie?” I tuck a tendril of hair behind my ear.
Chrysanthemum shrugs. “My friends call me Chryssie. And Magnolia’s friends with everyone here. Aren’t you, Maggie?”
“Yes, Chryssie, though you’re still the only one who ever calls me Maggie,” the other girl confirms while walking to my side of the bed to hand me the costume.
Chrysanthemum crawls onto her knees to inspect the dress, eyes as perky as her hair. “Maggie’s got a gift. Comes with the territory. You know the blind one. Easier to trust her. But let’s see about that dress!”
With no consideration for personal property or privacy, Chrysanthemum invades the dress to shake it out with her hands. Both our expressions mirror one another’s as we stare at it, squinting in confusion.
Chrysanthemum is the first to criticize. “It’s so light and one-note. Doesn’t Jade want anything else?”
Magnolia turns in my direction. “Some face applications, lengthened white eyelashes, but nothing else on her body.”
“No flowers or leaves or paint?”
Magnolia shakes her head, answering Chrysanthemum, who shrugs and then almost crouches on her next words. “Can I see it? I mean…are you shy?”
“Um…” I bite on my lower lip.
Magnolia interrupts, her head pivoting to focus on the other Flower. “Chrysanthemum, you know a Flower’s preparation is supposed to be private and personal. It’s impolite to—”
“She can stay.” Holding up a hand, I ease off the bed. “I don’t mind.”
“Great!” Chrysanthemum bounds onto the floor, feet skidding on the tiles just as I smooth one strap down from my shoulder. “Hey, what’s that?” Chrysanthemum remarks, pointing to the feather tattoo.
“It’s from the Aviary.”
“Ahh…that’s interesting. I know some Museum directors do that sort of thing. Jade doesn’t. She’s all about control, so she doesn’t feel the need to mark her Flowers because she’s all about roots.”
Her talking helps distract me, so I remove my dress while she continues. My hands wait to accept the costume from Magnolia.
“Brands, tattoos…Jade says they’re just for directors who are afraid they’re going to lose—whoa!” Chrysanthemum notes just as I take the costume in my hands. By now, I’m used to eyes roaming my body even if Chrysanthemum’s seem busier than a spinning clock.
“You’re like some sylph!” she tells me when I tug on the dress, rolling the fabric down my body. “I mean, we all know Magnolia’s the whitest, but you look like you were grown on a cloud somewhere.”
“No.” Shaking my head, I beam at her as Magnolia adjusts one of the dress straps on my shoulder, her hands seeking, searching for any errors. “I was birthed in a fairy pool beneath the starlight.”
Chrysanthemum urges a fist to her chin, then snaps her head back and forth. “Nuh-uh, I’m convinced you’re a sylph.”
“Sylph?”
“They’re cousins to fairies—elemental spirits who are invisible and ride on the air. They can’t come to earth because they’ll get stuck, and they’ll drown in water and burn in fire. Sylph actually means butterfly, so I think they’re like the original butterfly’s daughters or something.”
I smile at the thought of coming from a butterfly. It does seem fitting. Chrysanthemum babbles on for a few more minutes about the nature of sylphs, and I find I enjoy listening even if her words remind me of smoke—so unpredictable and without a thought or care where it roves.
After Chrysanthemum begs to help Magnolia with my makeup and Magnolia agrees, they spend the next
half hour or so focused on my face, applying the long white eyelashes that flirt with my ever-green eyes and adding a shimmery silver dust around them, along with the cheeks and side of my forehead. Apparently, the dust is not makeup but bioluminescent diamond powder. Even though Chrysanthemum helps, it’s clear Magnolia retains her leadership status. Her hands are practiced, knowing where to attach the white pearls along my skin.
Once they are finished, Chrysanthemum steps away from me and shapes her hands into a frame that captures my face. “Yep, definitely a sylph.”
“Let’s hope this sylph doesn’t drown.” Magnolia’s words seem to hint to my exhibit.
“So, Jade is sticking with a water theme…” I question, but Magnolia doesn’t offer any further information and Jade’s arrival interrupts us.
“Well done, Magnolia,” she approves. “I will take it from here. Thank you.”
Both Flowers exit the room without saying a word, hinting even more as to Jade’s power over them. No one at the Garden ever questions her authority. For a moment, I wonder how she will react to a Flower who does?
“Face the mirror,” Jade instructs before her hands sift into my hair, gathering it in chaotic clumps. “I will handle your hair today. Your Immortal implant keeps it in pristine condition.” Jade pins generous portions to the center of my head. “Eventually, you will learn how to do your hair on your own. I will teach you. Unlike most others here, you seem like you need some tutelage in that area.”
“Why do you say that?”
Jade captures my chin in her hand and juts it forward, grabbing my attention in the mirror. “When one has such a palette to work with, one does not simply ignore it as you do. Since you’ve been here, you haven’t once used your mirror screen to select different styles and practice them. You haven’t even taken advantage of the body printer. That reveals one of two things—incompetence or ignorance. And you do not strike me as incompetent, Skeleton Flower.”
My mother never wanted to do my hair. In fact, after the Temple, she didn’t want to do much of anything except keep busy. No makeup products or beautifying agents to speak of—they all reminded her of the Temple. And it wasn’t like I could show off for anyone, so it never made sense to learn. Even my blank palette was enough to draw attention. Wading through the memories of growing up is like clearing off a frosted mirror with water. It still likes to blur from heat. The present is too powerful.
I manage to latch onto one memory.
“Take it off,” Sky told me the one day I’d found an unattended lipstick tube on the floor with its wrapper still on.
“Why?” I’d asked at the time. “Doesn’t it look pretty?” I’d puckered my ample lips, tinged like flushed cherries, at him.
“Yes, it looks pretty, Ser. But you look beautiful without it.”
“But it’s just you and me, Sky,” I’d pointed out, fanning my hands around our hotel room.
“Right…I know. Just you and me.”
“I like it…” I’d faced myself in the mirror. “I like what it does to my skin. I like how it makes me feel.”
In the end, Sky didn’t make me wipe it off. For years, it was our little secret because we knew Mom didn’t want any reminders of the Temple. And he couldn’t deny me the pleasure, but I recognize now why he avoided my gaze whenever I wore it, why he always seemed to distract himself with his tablet screen or reading a book—he wanted to kiss me. And he worked extremely hard not to fulfill that fantasy.
Until that day by the waterfall.
“Something simple for today,” Jade says, referring to my hair. “Notice how I am joining the braid on one side to the other half of your hair, coiling it into a low bun? With hair such as yours, the possibilities are endless. Next time, I think leaving your hair down will be appropriate. I will give you some tutorials to study. I’ve only taught one other Flower here.”
“Magnolia,” I assume.
Jade’s reflection reveals her response first. “No, Magnolia excelled on her own as I predicted she would when I first pushed her from my body.” She dictates the phrase like Magnolia was some sort of parasite who didn’t deserve to live in her womb. “No, the girl I taught was just a little younger than me at the time. She was brought here for a time to learn because others failed to teach her. She left much improved after a month’s period before her return to the Temple.”
Jade inserts pin after pin in my hair to secure my curls. “She was only fifteen. We shared similar traits. Pale skin, white hair—hers not as rich of a shade as mine—more silver, but that was Force’s preference.”
And with that one name, all the butterflies in my stomach retreat to their hiding places, wings cowering while a few of the brave ones brace their antennae like fists. Even the mention of his name injects the air like toxin.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised. Why do you think your father came to me so many years after your mother fled him? I was only a mirage of her. And I was pleased to become his oasis before he returned to his desert of a world.”
“And you dominated him?”
Jade’s fingers pause just before she catches one of my curls and tames it into the scope of my head. “No. Force has other needs.”
I have no interest in dominating Luc. Just my father. My hopes were feeble. I know what kind of man my father is. I saw it in his eyes the first time we met at the Hatchery. Like so many other men, but Force carries it to the extreme.
Desperate, I change the subject. “Magnolia says you both carry albinism genetics.”
Jade teases the bun, fluffing out the strands. “Yes, my grandfather is albino.”
“Is he blind, too?”
“Magnolia isn’t fully blind. She can still distinguish colors, but the details are lacking.”
Perhaps it’s like seeing the entire world as an old photograph. She moves her body like she’s blind. Her entire body twists in the direction of a subject she wants to focus on, not just her eyes.
“As you may have noticed…” Jade continues, sticking two pearl-studded combs in my hair. “Magnolia is also sensitive to sunlight, which is why she remains in the Museum for most of the daylight hours. For some unknown reason, my vision is not as impaired. Albinos’ vision varies from person to person.”
“Is your father an albino?”
Jade pins more of my hair. “I never knew my father. Both my grandparents had albinism, the same type, so it was inevitable for it to pass on. My mother had it before me, but she died in a swimming accident when I was a teenager. Our albinism is what makes us unique. What turned me into a commodity at an early age. Pale skin has been in high demand since the days of intermarrying and immigration turned our breed into a minority.”
“Is that why you think I have potential?”
“Partly. It certainly doesn’t harm your cause, but I knew you had potential from just one look at you. From the moment you woke up and how you stared at me. What temper you possessed with just one flick from those lovely greens. And I saw it again when you attacked Luc in the dining room. And the first time you saw the young man chained in the Shed.”
Jade reads me better than I suspected because I channeled my anger into Sky. I will still have to work twice as hard to get him and Luc out of here. Not to mention Fawn. The most logical conclusion is to arrange for Luc’s release first…because of his exceptional talent. I imagine his hands pinning Jade, imagine them coiling around her neck, threatening her and making her release us all. If I manage to find a way to dismantle the device from his skin before my first client, I’d consider it nothing short of a miracle. Just win Jade’s trust, get her to reveal the Garden secrets—every one of them—and use them against her.
“You are ready,” Jade announces. “Follow me.”
When I stand, the ends of the dress ripple to the floor. It’s so light. Like a bridal veil with a willowy train softening the floor behind me. Lace sleeves in intricate floral patterns swathe my arms while the back of the dress is cut low, leaving much of my skin all the way down my spine
exposed.
Confused, a little dumbstruck by the costume, I bite on my lower lip as Jade leads me out of the bedroom and to the elevator that carries us to the final floor of the Museum.
“I allow clients to wait for a time. It hones the appetite,” Jade says just as the elevator opens to another hallway—one with more doors on the side. “These are the individual client rooms. More are on the opposite side of the exhibit, which is stationed in the center of this floor. Tonight, you will embark through its southeast entrance. Tomorrow night, I will choose a different entrance.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“My clients have traveled a great distance to be here, Skeleton Flower. This is their reprieve, their holiday, but they do have business in other parts of the world. Their time is valuable, and they pay a generous price for me to fill that precious gap. Trust me…I will not waste it.”
Jade motions to the final door at the end of the hallway near the window that overlooks the gardens in the back of the Museum.
“This will be quite different from the Swan exhibit, I assure you, despite how similar it may seem at first. The water is not swimmable, Serenity, so do not even try.”
She switched to my real name. Another tactic to remind me of her power?
Jade goes on too quickly for me to speculate, “You will not become part of the exhibit. The exhibit will revolve around you. Feel free to improvise, but I expect you to mirror the expressions dictated in the packet of information I placed in your room.”
In hindsight, maybe I should’ve looked at more than just the cover page.
At seeing me nervously gnaw on my lip and my eyes swelling a little, Jade’s irises drift to the ceiling, not in a roll but in an expression, which still spells aggravated. She suppresses a groan, clears her throat, and instructs, “Adopt your namesake. Serenity. Feel the peace, the tranquility, the hush. Embrace who you are in the stillness. That is all I will give you.”
