The Garden

by Emily Shore

  Neil is my brother.

  “Half-brother actually,” he corrects me just after I’ve returned to confront him, finding him in the subterranean pool since he said he felt like a swim after the doctors released him.

  I pace near the stone ledge while he rises to observe me, water trickling down his pale chest before joining the pool at his waist.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I prefer my anonymity. It’s why I changed my name. No association whatsoever with my father.” Once he nears the stone ledge, he plants his hands there.

  Drawing a fist to my mouth, I bite one knuckle, breathing in little gasps as I remember the taste of him like honey and wine. Banishing the memory, I squat like a feral cat before him, my eyes narrowed to lethal slits and teeth bared as I attack him. “You sick—”

  I don’t get far.

  Neil seizes me by the arm, wrestling me into the pool with him. Underwater for only a moment, I grapple with the surface and with him, my arms more like wild tentacles until he clenches them behind my back and drives me right up to the stone ledge. All the Jade-like charm in his eyes drains. He siphons it. Banishes it and rouses Force’s thunder, yet with breath just as sweet as pastries housing strawberry secrets.

  “Now, you listen well, my little darling,” Neil snarls with his hair sending droplets onto my face and his chest flattening against mine. “I haven’t spent all this time and money for you to back out over an unfortunate DNA technicality. I still plan on getting you out of here. You and your precious pursuers. And you will be the face of my Museum. And together, we will take down the damned origin of our existence. You are in this now. For better or for worse.”

  “For worse,” I hiss.

  Charm returns in his knowing smirk. I don’t even get a chance to curse before he crams his mouth down on mine, lips prying me apart to sink his tongue inside, but I refuse to duel. Instead, I bite just as I’d warned. My turn to smile when he retracts with a prick of blood thanks to my teeth.

  Throwing his head back with a laugh, Neil releases me and sniggers. “You look just like our father. A match made in heaven.” He swirls his hands in circles in the water. “My brains and charm. Your beauty and spirit. Nothing like your sister. The differences are subtle but there. Her rack is not as full as yours.”

  With a wink, he motions to my shoulder strap. After leaving Jade, I’d managed to tie it back together, but thanks to Neil’s water tussle, it now floats free again. My hasty fingers fumble to tie it, to cover myself, but Neil rolls his eyes and reaches for the strap.

  “Don’t touch me!” I shrink away.

  “Shut up, you saucy wench. Come here.” He grips my arm before tying the strap in one skilled motion.

  I push him away just after he’s finished.

  “If you ever come near me again, I’ll eat your heart as a delicacy!”

  “Trust me, it’s not that delicate,” Neil advises. “I’ll discuss your release with Jade this afternoon. Now, if you don’t mind…I’d like to finish my swim.”

  After saluting me with a bow of his head, Neil dives into the water. His skin absorbs the shock from my eyes when I catch one glimpse of his naked rump.

  Jackass.

  22

  B o N e s

  In a matter of minutes, I’ve reached the Shed and flung the door open wide just before crashing my body against the bars again and again. Try to pretend they are a wall of roses. When that doesn’t work, I get down on my hands and knees and gouge my fingers into the earth, tunneling them into the mud, careless of how it soils my dress as I shovel it behind me.

  “What are you doing, Ser?” Sky asks after a minute or two, tone both curious and annoyed.

  “I need you, Sky. I need you without these in the way,” I state while striking the bars before continuing to dig.

  “Ser, what’s today’s date?”

  Curious he’d ask me that. Maybe he doesn’t want to interfere with what I’m doing. After spending our first years together, Sky knows not to interrupt me when I’m like this.

  “May twenty second.” I say nothing else.

  “Happy Birthday, Serenity.”

  My hands pause from their tunneling. “What are you talking about? My birthday’s not until December.”

  “Your parents changed the date when they forged new papers. Your spring birthday is your real birthday. Snow on the ground would’ve made it more difficult to escape.”

  “So, that means…”

  The lie of December snaps like a cobweb thread. Nothing left of the intricate design I once knew. Nothing left of the protective tapestry that covered my life. After my mother’s background in the Temple, I can’t blame her for trussing me up in lies. For keeping me from the world and its carousel of horrors. But I still wear my emotions like a cactus wears needles. The one thing I keep from my past. So, I grate my fingers into my skull, leaving mud prints all over my forehead.

  “You’re seventeen today. Why? Does it feel that much different?”

  I don’t answer. Just keep digging.

  “What happened?”

  “Neil Bloode is really Nile Bodelo.” I jam both hands at once into the mud, hauling clumps to the side.

  “World-famous graphicker,” Sky notes through gritted teeth. “Does he want you in his studio or something?”

  Shaking my head, I toss a handful of mud against one of the Shed walls. “No, a Museum. A Museum and medical center because his plan is to study the carriers of the disease and create a vaccine. He wants to surpass the Temple.”

  “Ambitious. Why does he want you?”

  I shrug and lean back on my ankles, planting my dirty hands on my bare legs. “He says if the Swan is the face of his Museum, no girl will turn down the opportunity to enroll. I’ll become a recruiter, Sky. And I’ve accepted.”

  “Say what?”

  “He can get all of us out of here. You, Luc, Fawn, Nightingale…all of us. And he’s given his word to arrange a meeting with my sister.”

  “And your parents?”

  Sky isn’t clenching his fingers yet, but he does curl them in anticipation.

  I resume digging. “One thing at a time,” I say, mimicking Neil’s words.

  “So, why are you upset?”

  That’s when I pause to look up at him, meet his eyes—softened but always warm like browned butter. It’s never a chore for Sky to rip down any of my barriers. His are stronger than these iron bars, but for some reason, mine are dandelion blossoms. All he needs to do is blow on them, and I’ll shatter. Luc needs more effort. More gradual, but he brings out the lightning. Sky’s eyes are the metal rods that can harness it, and he can handle the fire and ice any day.

  Closing my eyes, I grip a giant wedge of mud and rest my head against the bars. “Neil Bloode hates Force as much as I do. Because he’s my half-brother.”

  Sky does screw his fingers into a fist then. “What. Did. He. Do?” He suspects why I’m acting this way.

  “He’s seen me, Sky. And he came onto me…kissed me.”

  Sky strains at the chains. They shudder, tremble from his superior muscles, and with one more enduring jerk, a link fractures like a bone breaking. Only on one chain, but it’s enough to give Sky more leeway. Enough for his one arm to reach through the bars to cup my face, to rub his thumb across one of my tears. His skin is impossibly warm, and I can smell the sweat in his palms, welcome the salt path he leaves on my skin when he holds my face. I fold my hand into his—white, pint-sized fingers a sharp contrast to his desert-sand ones. Unlike Luc, Sky offers no promises of slaughter. No garish images of a hot iron poker driven straight through Neil’s chest to give me a bleeding-heart shish kabob. Sky’s just…with me.

  “He says it will take some time.” Moving closer to the bars, I kiss the back of Sky’s hand. “He says I need to be patient.”

  “I’ll keep waiting.”

  “Jade will punish you for that…” I motion to the broken chain.

  “Let her.”

  “A
re you going to tell me why you’re doing this?”

  Sky fans out his hand, presses it against mine like a brown wolf nuzzling its white pup. “Don’t you understand yet, you silly, insufferable girl? I’m showing you.”

  “Showing me what?”

  Sky rolls his eyes once before smiling. “You and you alone hold my heart, Serenity. Nothing can shatter my promise to you. Or crush my faithfulness. I’d rather spend a hundred years in this Shed before giving my heart to another. I’ll suffer this a thousand times and more if that’s what it takes to win yours. That is my fantasy if you want to call it that. I can’t promise you magical islands and stardust every night. But I can promise you that I will love you every day. I can promise you love for our children if you want them. I can promise to grow old with you. Promise you will always be as beautiful in my eyes as you are now. You are my one everything. My one choice. My one love. My one bride.”

  Sky’s promise is the crashing of a great wave. With an undertow powerful enough to swallow me and carry me down to deep water where there is nothing but his words in the silence, nothing but his faithfulness drowning me. Holding my breath, I linger, treading on the promise like it’s the water I always crave. And Sky’s eyes are the golden patterns the sun designs on my skin through the water’s lens, always drawing me back to the light.

  When I move, the moment shatters in the wake of my knee nudging something hard. Narrowing my eyes, I peer down, noticing something white in the dirt below me. Suspicious, I burrow my fingers into the mud, trying to pry the object from the earth, but it’s too big. Instead, I unmask its bulbous shape, feeling the raised indentations across its top. As my fingers rub downward, they connect with two holes. I jerk away, feeling like I’ve just swallowed some pill that turns my veins to thin icicles because I know what the object is.

  A skull.

  The next thing I know, I’m embarking right through the lobby of the Museum, making a beeline for Magnolia, who is speaking with three different clients dressed in expensively tailored suits that reek of power and prestige. They register surprise when I stray into the lobby, their haughty eyes alert while one parts his disgusted mouth in such a way it reveals incisors.

  “Magnolia,” I start to say, but the formidable girl interrupts me in a fierce whisper.

  “You can’t be here, Skeleton Flower.” She tries to pull me aside, but one of the clients places a firm hand on her shoulder.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he demands in a thick foreign accent. Judging from his features, which include a strong and prominent chin, narrow upper lip, and hooded eyes, I suspect Ireland. “We’ve traveled a long distance, Magnolia, and we received a mutually exclusive guarantee from our advance fee.”

  It dawns on me that he’s referring to my restricted entrance. They all regard me with puzzlement. I wager that’s not only from my presence, but also from my ragged and filthy state—not to mention my dress still damp from my impromptu swim earlier.

  Magnolia smooths aside my blunder like turning cold butter back into cream. “Please forgive this unfortunate faux pas, gentlemen. We do our best to grow our Flowers in a fertile environment. Sometimes, though, the transfers do bring their own thorns. As you see for yourself, the rumors regarding the Swan’s nature are quite true. Considering this, your first exhibit showing will be complimentary.”

  Another wave of international clients just as Neil predicted. The man who spoke before seems satisfied with Magnolia’s offer. Just as she sets a hand on my shoulder to urge me out of the main wing, the foreign client suddenly steals my hand into his, thumb pressing down hard on one of my knuckles just before his lips plunder the skin there, inhaling.

  “I look forward to seeing more of you, Swan,” the client murmurs, his warm breath drowning my hand.

  Steeping my blood in lightning, I show him how true the rumors are when I smack his hand away and threaten, “Touch me again, and I’ll wear your fingers as a charm.”

  The other two clients laugh, but the first one narrows his eyes to a pinprick just before Magnolia announces, “Please feel free to wander the main floor exhibits, gentlemen. The Flowers will change shifts within another hour. Thank you.”

  As soon as Magnolia leads me out of the lobby and down one of the side hallways to the elevator, she finally launches an attack. “Have you lost your mind?” She pushes me into the elevator as soon as the doors open.

  “If I have, I lost it a long time ago.” As I roll my eyes, I remember the old line I used to recite every now and then. We’re all mad here. It’s never been truer.

  “Those are prestigious clients. Garden sponsors,” she clarifies even more. “You shouldn’t have done that. You may as well have invited them to your bed. Have you learned nothing?”

  “I’ve learned what’s buried in the Shed.”

  As soon as I say the words, Magnolia stops the elevator. The lights turn dark. Despite that, I can see Magnolia’s armor. Her foamy eyes are more focused than an owl swooping to pluck its prey.

  Her declaration comes quickly. “Those bones are not to be disturbed.”

  “They aren’t buried very deep,” I retort, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

  Magnolia folds her hands in front of her just beneath her bust. “They don’t deserve a deep grave. No resting place. No honor.”

  “Why the Shed?”

  When she doesn’t answer, I don’t bother to tread carefully. She and I are beyond that now. Time to unzip the secrets from her skin. Time to ground her armor into chalk dust.

  “Men haven’t been the only ones beaten there, have they?” I surmise, advancing toward her. “That Shed is old. Never been rebuilt. And despite all Jade’s technology, she doesn’t use any security upgrades.”

  For the first time, Magnolia steps away from me, hands uncurling from their controlled placement.

  Almost mercilessly, I continue, “Who abused Jade, Magnolia?”

  “My father did.” Terror puffs in her eyes for one second like a vapor.

  “Her husband? Boyfriend?”

  Magnolia shakes her head, retreating into the corner of the elevator. Her eyes flick to the buttons, but I lunge for them first, blocking her access. Take a millstone to her armor.

  “There was so much blood.” She stares into the corner. Her milkweed eyes sank into a memory I cannot reach. “He made her watch. The whip and the blood. She couldn’t get through the iron gate. He made her watch.”

  “Your father?”

  Magnolia nods. Whispers, “My grandfather. My father.” She stares down at her hands. “His blood in me.”

  The knowledge slams into me like skulls battering my body. I remember what she said to me. Sometimes, you can’t fight back. Magnolia’s grandfather was also her father—and Jade’s father. Jade is her mother and her sister.

  “How old were you?”

  Magnolia doesn’t speak. Just lifts four fingers to the air before murmuring, “Mother was younger. She was his pretty white flower. His pretty Baby’s Breath. But she became Jade that one day.”

  “After she found him in the Shed with you,” I decipher.

  “She hated her mother more. For doing nothing. But Jade didn’t do nothing.”

  “And she took over the Garden after she killed him,” I surmise.

  That is how Jade fulfilled her fantasy. And every moment spent in the Shed since then is her reliving the moment as best she can. That’s why she only prefers one type of man.

  Slowly, I scoot over, giving her access to the elevator buttons. Magnolia pieces her world back together, fuses the armor again, sews up all the chinks, but now I can see the inner veins—the cracks.

  “You sent Chrysanthemum, didn’t you?” I ask once we reach my floor. With her hands placated in front of her, Magnolia nods. I lick my lips, determining, “Because your mother wants me to take over the Garden.”

  “Mother is sick. Mother is scared. But I will take care of her now. I take care of everything. She thinks I can’t see. But I see everything.�
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  She stops before my room. Turning around, I kiss each one of Magnolia’s nearly blind eyes, knowing she would be far more capable of running this place than I ever could or would. Solemnly, I tell her, “You see more.”

  I think of my mother that night. I think of Jade in the Shed. She wears the guise of a dominatrix, but she’s just a pitiful little girl inside. And my mother was the one who ran and spent every night trying to tame the nightmares that whip her mind. Now, Force has her in his cage again. I can imagine him sliding the whip across the edge of her skin, brandishing it like a gun filled with blanks, teasing her with every swing. My mother can’t run again. Not this time. Instead, I must run to her. And my father will learn just how similar he and I really are.

  The first time Kerrick and I met in secret was on a weekend Force had gone to Russia on business. Kerrick loaned his heart to me that night. Mine climbed up on its shoulders because it was too weak to stand on its own from carrying the weight of two lifelines. My belly was already swollen from them.

  These past few months have lapsed into a tranquil hush. The scars of my back just a memory. Kerrick does not kiss them. He knows I don’t want the reminder. A snap of a recollection, and I can feel the whip again, can smell just a hint of sweat and cologne, but I banish him from our weekend. Nothing but Kerrick bending to kiss my pregnant belly as I stare at the snow shuffling from the sky like angels emptying sugar shakers.

  “I’m going to get you out of here someday, Serafina. I’m going to get you all out of here.”

  Some promises cannot be kept…

  It was the first and only time my mother alluded to anything in her journal regarding my sister. I would’ve kept her closer to me. Perhaps my mother knows that, knows how mad it would’ve driven me—knowing I have a twin. My mother is patient, meant to endure, to carry in silence, to weep only where pillows can sample her whimpers and tears unless Kerrick kisses them away. She is meant to bear the pain and suck it into herself. That is my mother’s strength—even if she doesn’t see it. My strength is the battle. A holocaust of lightning and blood. And I have two men willing to fight to the death alongside me.