by Emily Shore
“I didn’t have a choice,” I snap, a storm budding inside my mouth.
“A lot of girls don’t, especially pretty ones. But you have one now.” She tugs at one of her thigh-highs. “There’s nowhere you can go now without someone wanting you. You wouldn’t last one day outside.”
“Well, I know this much—I’ll never let anyone turn me into some sort of doll.” I want to take back the words as soon as I say them, but it’s too late.
Her eyes swell, black irises like charging stallions. “Glad to know what you think of me. Now get—”
“Blackbird, I—”
“Out!”
Luc offers to join me in the aviary, but I tell him I want some time alone. He agrees, provided my personal security joins me, which is just fine. Luc is still in the process of determining the source of the comas, scouring video feeds, which keeps him distracted.
Sky and I go to the spot where he handed my mother’s journal to me a month ago. The waterfall is the only break in security. This is where we taste a sample of freedom together. We can just be Sky and Ser. Not Vulture and Swan.
“Your last exhibit was impressive,” Sky says first, though I can hear the disdain in his voice.
“It feels like so long ago,” I say, reflecting on the month that has passed.
“He’s an artist. Takes his time. Obsessive just like he is with everything else. And it gives his father more time to invite international clients to the auction.” His words are soaked in loathing.
“This is your idea,” I remind him. “You told me to play along, to be the Swan, and get close to him so we increase our chances of finding Mom and Dad. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
Narrowing my brows, I straighten. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sky ignores my question and changes the subject, bracing a hand against the rock wall. “Luc’s father, er, Malcolm—he’s been in contact with Director Force, especially after the Swan’s performance the night he visited. He wants to capitalize on Force’s interest in your next exhibit by driving Force’s curiosity to the breaking point.”
“Why is it so important for Force to want me?”
Sky’s mouth creases tight, and his bulging muscles tighten before he packs one hand into a fist. “Leverage. The Guild wants power, position. If you become as big as I suspect, they’ll use you and your parents and blackmail the Syndicate into getting what they want.”
“So, I’m just a bargaining chip. Wonderful.” I lean against the iron fence, across from Sky.
Defensive, Sky braces his hands against the rock wall behind him, nostrils flaring. “You think this is easy for me, Serenity? Watching them eat you up whenever your exhibit is open? Parading you around like some sick spectacle? Seeing the way he looks at you? Seeing the way you’ve begun looking at him?”
I lift a finger in warning. “I didn’t ask for any of this, Skylar Lace. If I had my way, we’d have run by now.”
“Could have fooled me.”
My back digs into the iron behind me, the falls misting my bare shoulders as my blood reaches its boiling point. “Stop pretending this is my fault!”
“It is your fault!” Sky raises his voice, but keeps it below the sound of the waterfall. “You’re just too damn…beautiful.”
“How about we mangle it up then?” I reach for the knife at his belt, but Sky is always quicker than me, and his hand comes down on mine.
“It wouldn’t even matter if you did. You know they can fix anything.” He releases my hand, then turns around.
“That’s not true.” I soften my voice, and he twists his head back just enough to hear me. “They can’t fix you and me.”
His shoulders slump, but he says nothing.
“Why do you keep pulling away from me? You’ve been doing it for years. The older we get, the farther I feel from you.” Why doesn’t he just admit it? Or is it something else than what I suspect?
“It’s complicated.”
“So, I’m just your pawn now. Is that it?”
Sky turns around and rolls his eyes, his eyes darkened to brown muslin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, as usual. You’re just overdramatizing.”
“Least I haven’t changed.”
I’m about to walk away when Sky grabs me by the arm and pushes me back toward the rock wall in the shadows, despite my struggling protest. “I wasn’t finished,” he says.
“Spit it out, then!” I sigh, aggravated.
“Being Vulture isn’t a role I play easily. All these girls—I’m not used to this.”
That’s what this is about? All the other girls? I squirm a little under his gaze. “Do you think I can really help you with any of this?”
“After their shifts, the other guards all check out different exhibits. Something looks off if you don’t because we get discounted services.” He searches my face. “I just—I’m not—”
I struggle now. “Sky, I’ve got my own problems to worry about.”
“Yes,” he seethes, digging his fingers into the hilt of his knife. “I’ve seen your biggest one.”
“It’s not like that. And even if it was, he’s different than the others. He’s not going to give me to some client.”
Sky grimaces, fingers grating into the rock. “No, I imagine he’s got his own plans for you.”
Too uncomfortable, I divert the subject back to him. “So, have you? Taken advantage of your discount, I mean. Which Bird…you know…catches your attention?”
A lurking smile crooks Sky’s features—that conspiratorial grin he always gets when he toys with me.
“Do whatever you want!” More exasperated than before, I push him and practically bark, “It’s not like you need my permission. I don’t care.”
Sky lowers his head toward me, but it’s still a good few inches above mine. “I care.”
His eyes melt into liquid gold. It’s the same face he uses when I’m in a foul mood, and he’s trying to get me to laugh. The closer he gets, the more emotions stir within me. When I think about him with another Bird, my chest tightens and I can feel a flush invade my usual pallor.
I move my head to the side, away from his.
“Do you know anything about the comas?” I ask, choosing business, a subject that feels far safer than the last.
He shakes his head. “Still investigating. It’s becoming easier—Luc gives me a higher clearance level every day. Especially after the graphickers. If I’d been on duty, it wouldn’t have happened. And I fixed the system so no one will ever be able to hack in again.” Sky has always been good with technology. He’s dedicated many years to understanding its marvels. “What happened that night? You never told me, and I never wanted to bring it up.”
Almost unsure whether I should say, I bite my lower lip. “Do you know anything about Luc’s background? Who he was before the Aviary?”
Sky shakes his head, a dark shadow passing through his eyes at the mention of Luc’s name. “He’s a ghost in the records; I’ve always assumed it was that way for a reason. What do you know?”
“He killed the graphickers to get me out. He told me to close my eyes, but I opened them. I…saw.” My stomach roils at the memory. “Luc told me he was a contract hit man before he became the Aviary director.”
Sky tenses, anger brooding in his eyes. “And when were you going to tell me this?”
“I—”
He slaps the rocks just above my head. “I don’t give a damn if he saved you that night! I don’t give a damn how kind he’s been to you. You need to trust me first. You can’t hide something like that from me. Hell, I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore! He comes to your room almost every night. Stays for half an hour or so and then leaves.”
Sighing, I relate our question-and-answer bargain and how I’ve learned more about him and the Guild Family.
He raises an eyebrow. “Not bad, actually. The Sanctuary should’ve recruited you a long time ago.” Leaning forward again,
he cups the side of my head. “I should get you back.”
Uplifted by his compliment, I’m ready to return to the Aviary, enthusiastic at the thought of finding out more about Luc.
I realize I’ll have to change once I return to my room. The back of my dress is too damp from the mist, and water droplets ornament my hair.
“There’s just one more thing,” Sky says. Before I can step out of the way, he thrusts my back against the damp stone wall. He encloses my cheek with one palm while he runs his other hand through my hair, holding the back of my head. Then, he presses his lips to mine, taking my mouth hostage.
My eyes open as far as they can go. My mind reels.
Unlike with Luc, I don’t bend before Sky, because Sky is too strong, too fast, knows just how to keep me still.
He crushes his mouth and body to mine, tugs at my lower lip, tasting me fierce and strong.
For a minute, I just let him. I feel the warmth in my mouth, my throat, my chest. Nothing like Luc’s ice. Sky crams his heat into me, fuels my body with it, and my lightning knows exactly how to handle him. It welcomes him.
And then, I taste him back.
Like thunder, he rocks me, fueling my lightning, supporting me. His earthy scent, like soil damp from leftover rain, consumes me. The links between us strengthen. Not just merely connected, now they shackle us together. In this kiss are all the unvoiced explanations for the distance he forced between us over the past few years: why he stopped swimming with me, why he looks burned every time I touch him. All these years, but he’s never acted, not once. Until now. Sky’s resolve, his willpower, grinds mine into dust. And his kiss suffocates even the memory of the one I shared with Luc.
Finally, he puts space between him and my breathless mouth. He grins, dipping his head to the side to say, “You’re my biggest problem, Serenity.”
18
S k Y’s A d m i S s I o n
Throughout my childhood, there were stretches of time when Mom, Dad, Sky, and I would live in the old mansion. Even with the old water pipes that sounded like a miniature dwarf army was trapped inside them, hacking away at their pickaxes, it was far preferable than the real world because Dad had just showed me the Glass District.
“Let’s go swimming,” I’d suggested to Sky shortly after my District visit.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Come on. It’s getting dark soon. Perfect time to swim.” I’d tried to persuade him and grabbed one of his pillows, chucking it at him.
I remember he grimaced. After straightening out the pillow, he placed it back on the bed. His words were just as rehearsed as his movements.
“I said no. I don’t want to swim with you anymore, Serenity. Go by yourself.”
“Fine! Be an ass if you want,” I’d shouted. “I’ll go by myself!”
I giggle just a little, remembering how I’d slammed the door too soon and caught my long curls in the wood. Sky’s chortle behind the door had been muffled. He was grinning when I opened it to free my imprisoned hair. I slammed it even louder the second time.
But after I’d waded into the lake water and pumped my body under its surface, rising only when I’d run out of breath, I looked back toward the house, and there was Sky standing on the shore fully dressed, arms folded, gaze steadfast on me…
Now, he pulls away, leaving me dumbfounded and panting for him. Despite my silent protests, finger jerking back to the waterfall, trying to get him to come back, Sky is unbending.
I have no choice but to follow him back to the Aviary. He knows full well I can’t ask him anything once we step away from the waterfall hiding spot. Knows he’s ripped through the pixie gossamer webs of my mind. He’s slipped right past my armor and slammed his way into my heart. More than Luc ever could.
Guilt is close at hand. How can I feel like this, think about these things, when my parents are still in prison?
I don’t want to go back to the Aviary. I want to return to the old mansion overlooking the lake.
My heart is burning as I walk through the glass doors. Right now, I’m a beast ready to bite. A bird ready to peck at whoever is foolish enough to open her cage.
I follow Sky, too lost in my thoughts to notice the feather-clad girls until they’re in front of me. First, I hear them. Her moan, his growl.
The man’s hands creep around the familiar Bird’s waist, primed below her hips, while her lily-petal fingers stroke his chest. His mouth forages hers, but her hands are greedy, nails ready to impale him.
Until our presence catches his attention, and his hesitation alerts hers.
Nightingale pauses from kissing Larke—her mouth all blotted and swollen from his, red as a bleeding Cardinal. Her eyes whirl a little before they target me.
Staying close to the glass wall at the end of the empty hallway near my secret entrance, I keep my eyes as vacant as that hallway, but Nightingale’s are as deep and black as snow drowning in ink.
She raises a delicate finger in warning. “Breathe a word of this to your precious Owl, and I will slit…” She pantomimes a slicing motion across my neck with one pointed fingernail, and I raise my chin. “…your pretty white throat.”
Larke towers behind Nightingale as she speaks, but where Luc can command with one downward knit of his brows, all Larke’s power comes from his body, packed tight and corded with muscle like some war drum.
Nightingale shoves her hand against my throat, pushing deep into the hollow. Sky steps forward, but I halt him with one pointed look.
I’m ready to claw straight through her black dress and stain it with her blood. Ready to split her wings, shred those black feathers, and leave them to rot in a scarlet stain. Maybe Sky knows this. Maybe he knows Alice holds the sword today. And I’m ready to chop the Queen of Hearts’ head clean off. He lets me take the battlefield.
“Enough, Nightingale!”
I recognize the voice behind me, twisting my head to find Blackbird standing there and Raven marching down the hall toward us. I hadn’t expected others to join me on the field.
I’ve only seen Raven at the dinner table, but every time I see her, I can’t help but feel intimidated. She isn’t just intoxicating; she is arresting. Prestige defines her as she sweeps toward Nightingale. Her faultless, endless legs far surpass mine, as do her long, lithe torso, ample bust, and aquiline neck. Her height alone—at least a head taller than Nightingale and two heads taller than me—intimidates, though it’s clear Blackbird is the mouthpiece. Raven’s wild tiger eyes attack Nightingale, but she says nothing.
“Watch your back, Nightingale,” warns Blackbird just as Raven’s brutal eyes spear Nightingale, who releases my throat.
Nightingale is graceful, but Raven is a vicious breed of beauty. No delicacy in her features. Thanks to her hair strained so tight against her skull, her rage is even more defined. Her ponytail flicks back and forth when she hisses at Nightingale.
“Watch yourself,” Nightingale seethes, but everyone knows the comment is directed at me.
Blackbird approaches me once Nightingale and Larke leave. “Thinks she owns this place,” she says, practically spitting.
Sky lingers nearby, still intent on my reaction.
“Why did you—” I begin to ask Blackbird, but I should’ve known she would cut me off.
“Why would we what? Look out for each other?” Blackbird says. “Because that’s what we do here.”
“Even after I…?”
At first, Blackbird seems confused. Then, she waves me off. “Oh, that! I don’t hold grudges for long. Ask Raven.”
Raven merely nods.
“Besides.” Blackbird crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ve done the same for us.”
Confused, I glance at Raven, unsure of what it is I was supposed to have done for her. She grabs me by the wrist, nest-brown hand swallowing mine.
She announces, “Your bruises might be gone, but the memory’s not.”
Blackbird exp
lains, “Finch is her sister. I told you, nothing to worry about from Raven.”
That’s when I realize Blackbird is still wearing her exhibit ropes. She must have just come from there.
“My exhibit is tomorrow,” Raven announces. “I need sleep.”
Blackbird nods. “And I’m late for my client.”
I stop her for a moment, understanding the sacrifice she made on my behalf. “Thank you.”
After Blackbird has gone, I’m about to open the door to my bedroom when I recognize the figure at the end of the hall disappearing around the corner to the staircase. I’d think nothing of it, but when the second figure dances around the same corner just after him, I grow suspicious.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Sky blocks my way. “Go back to your room.”
I don’t try to explain; I simply duck around him.
Sky knows if he were to touch me at all, if he so much as reaches a hand to my arm, the Aviary will see. So, I’m free to follow the figures down the stairs, out of the Aviary, and back into the gardens. Thanks to my good behavior, I’ve been granted access to the grounds.
I keep my distance, ducking behind glass flower sculptures, and observe as Luc enters his personal shrine, his solace house: the wood house on top of the still lake. Sunset has deepened the sky to a fresco of gold and crimson tongues, and the floating lanterns surrounding the house cast a lustful glow.
Luc weaves around the side of the building where the bathhouse is. The second figure follows suit.
“Serenity,” Sky whispers.
“Not now.” I shake my head and press my lips tight, willing myself to watch because in my heart, I know what happens under the cover of night.
Steam froths into the air when Luc slides the two panels on the side of the small house apart, and he slowly removes his shirt. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a man’s chest other than Sky’s. Unlike Sky, Luc is not tan. And though he’s not as muscle-bound as Sky, he’s well defined, his back braided with sinew. He rolls his broad shoulders back and forth and stretches his neck to the right and then left before stepping inside and discarding his shirt on the floor. Then, his hands travel to his pants and he unbuttons the top button.
