The Aviary

by Emily Shore

  She molds her fingers together before saying, “I want to explain more to you.”

  At this point, I know I should welcome company and not reject it. So… “Come in.” I open the door, allowing her to go in first.

  My action seems to meet with her approval, and she takes her place again on the ledge just overlooking the garden. Sky follows us inside.

  Blackbird notices my gaze on her stomach. “I’m just starting to show, Swan. You want to see?”

  I’m not sure. I scrunch up my knees, flatten my back against the wall, and eye her. “Yes.” She shows me her bump, just a plump little thing. I touch it and ask, “What does it feel like?”

  “My stomach won’t settle.” She shrugs and indicates, “I throw up a lot. I guess some girls don’t get the sickness, but it’s like when you have those dreams where you’re falling from something. Multiple times during the day, whenever I think about it, I get that feeling.”

  I press my cheek against my knees. “I know that feeling.” I think of my exhibit and falling from the swing, but a cold rush of soothing water isn’t what will await Blackbird. All that is left for her is gray pain followed by rosy warmth. Unless it doesn’t live. I hope it will, for her sake. For the first time, I’m seeing her in a new light. It catches her skin, creating an ebony glow. Like she’s some beautiful temple. Soul and skin and spirit. Not just because of her pregnancy. It goes beyond that.

  “I bet the Aviary made enough off your exhibits alone to keep running another year,” she says, crumpling my thoughts. “Bet you got a nice amount of claims stacking up for your auction, too. Has he told you anything else about your next exhibit?” she asks me.

  I shake my head. “No. Just that it’s this weekend.”

  Our conversation is interrupted by Luc’s entrance. Even from all the way down the hallway by my bedroom door, I can read the consternation in his eyes.

  “Blackbird, Raven is asking for you. Finch has fallen into a coma.”

  20

  L o S t F e a T h e r s

  All that is left of Finch are feathers. She doesn’t look like Blackbird did when she was here. Finch is a child, her body too fragile. Too much energy spent growing, nothing left to fight this off. Will her hands ever steal my food again? Her body is tender as an eggshell, pale with her copper waves dulled to rust from lack of sprite and spirit. And my last memory of her involved my brilliant rush of anger. If Raven knows, she doesn’t mention anything. With all of us in her infirmary room—me, Luc, Sky, Raven, and Blackbird—I feel stifled. Silence gnaws on the air. Dread laces through me.

  “Here is my ditty to bring you to trance. Here is my tune to force you to dance. Here is my lullaby so lovely and deep. Here is my song to sing you to sleep.”

  All of us seem to understand Luc’s treasured lullaby will do nothing. Most of all Raven, who seems paralyzed in bed next to her little sister. After years of separation, they were reunited in this museum, and now the child is lost again. Wandering somewhere inside the carousels of her mind.

  I feel as though I don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as she does.

  It’s like I’ve broken something with what I’ve done to Finch. Inside me, something has cracked, and shards whirl around, cutting my insides. I’m fracturing, shivering.

  I can’t stand to stay in the room a second longer, but thankfully, Luc doesn’t follow me out, only Sky. I venture outside the glass doors of the Aviary, but instead of taking the familiar path behind the waterfall, I continue across the bridge to where a glass door reads:

  Glass Garden

  I open the door, then step onto a glass walkway. On each side, there are sculptures of frosted glass birds, some in flight, some perched on branches with folded wings. They increase in number the farther I wander. Beside each sculpture is a plaque with a digital screen revealing the girl behind each bird. One still-shot of her exhibit. Then, the glass sculptures retreat in the wake of a circle of glass trees, budding with glass flowers. All white, like icing.

  In the clearing is one final sculpture, and I am all too aware of Sky tracking my steps as I squeeze through the spaces between the trees to study it. I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s a swan or that it’s the largest of the sculptures. Luc had put me on a pedestal before he even found me. No wonder the girls despise me so. If it weren’t for Sky, I’d probably already be dead at the hands of Peacock, Nightingale, or any of the other dozens of Birds here. Mine is the only moving video.

  A part of me recognizes that Luc has done his fair share of saving me, too. Without him, my virginity would’ve been sacrificed long ago.

  Who knows what else Luc has planned for my exhibit?

  21

  S w A n s aNd S k Y

  Tonight’s costume certainly gives a proud Dove cause to preen.

  At mid-thigh, the dress splits down the middle. Around my legs, the fabric is translucent white and mingles with my fair skin to my ankles. Dove paints elaborate patterns across my stomach, my throat, but laces tufts of white feathers across my breasts. She does nothing to my arms. Instead, thin swathes of fabric swing down from just below my shoulders and from under my elbows, creating a flowing illusion. Strings of feathers twist together into straps that weave all around my back to the last vertebra of my spine. More translucent fabric coats my hips along with a loop on each side, which puzzles me.

  Last, she tackles my hair. Somehow, she tames the wild curls. To think this process used to takes hours, but with the automatic flattening laser, my hair is now longer than ever within minutes, surpassing well below my hips—until she coils it into a towering ponytail. I can see her objective; she’s imitating the curved neck of the swan. Crystal dust decorates one side of my face. Each tiny crystallized mineral is high-tech, made to shine underneath the water to illuminate my skin.

  Still, I seem more naked. I should prefer something demure that will cover all my white skin, but I’m embracing the cold. It’s as though Luc is injecting his frost into me, transforming me into the latest glass sculpture.

  I know without a doubt in this moment that I am becoming part of the Aviary.

  “What’s next?” I ask Dove as I approach the wall mirror. I finger the expanse of my bare stomach, touch the feathers covering my breasts. “How much more clothing can he take away?” When she doesn’t respond, I continue to speak.

  “Will you simply paint my entire body in feathers next time?”

  Every exhibit, I seem to lose more fabric and reveal more skin. I wish I could know what Sky thinks as he stands guard nearby, rooted in his usual place.

  In the mirror behind me, Dove cups my shoulders and smiles. “I think you will enjoy yourself tonight.”

  I narrow my brows, questioning, “Why?”

  Dove’s smile deepens. “A premonition.” She looks to the figure who enters the room just off to our left.

  Luc dismisses both Dove and a hesitant Sky from the room before striding toward me. He reaches forward to adjust the swan charm on my throat. “Please believe me when I tell you how much I dislike sharing you this way. You should be my Swan and my Swan only.” I guess he and Sky have that in common. But Sky wants Serenity. Luc wants the Swan.

  “Then, why don’t you cancel the exhibit?”

  Luc regards me with an amused smile in the mirror. “You misunderstand me. I am not referring to your exhibit. More than anyone else, I appreciate your performance because I am the only one who recognizes who you are beneath the water.”

  Other than Sky, I think.

  “They may treasure your physical image for a time, but I will treasure the soul behind your physical image for all time. But there is another matter I’ve wanted to discuss with you. Finch. I’ve read your despair.”

  I flutter my fingers across my arms, linger on the thin planes of fabric under my elbows. “How is Finch?” I ask.

  “Much the same, unfortunately.” Luc places his hands on the backs of mine. “Stop fiddling with your costume.”

  Throwing my arms to my sid
es, I glower.

  “You are special to me, Swan. I care about you deeply.”

  “You don’t know me,” I say. “Not really. You can read every move I make, every expression—” every yearning in my body, I want to say, “—but you don’t know the real girl. You don’t know Serenity.”

  Luc takes my arm, twists me around to face him. “Tonight, then. After your exhibit closes, you will wear whatever you wish, and you will swim for no one’s eyes but mine. And you may ask me whatever you want, whatever favor you wish, and I will grant it. Until then, it’s time for your exhibit.”

  This time, there is no swing. In place of it is the trunk of a tree—its branches disappearing somewhere above my head where it meets the surface of the exhibit. Attached to the base of the tree is a pedestal for me to stand upon. Two black ropes with hooks on the end dangle above. Luc offers no instructions, merely attaches the hooks to the loop on each side of my hips.

  “It will hold,” he murmurs gently.

  Hold for what?

  Something in his behavior has changed. He’s distracted, and I wonder if it has something to do with his revelation from a few minutes ago. I can’t think about that now. I’ll go crazy if I try. Stay in the present.

  I open my mouth to ask a question, but Luc, who always predicts my thoughts, alerts me first. “You will know what to do when the time comes.” He closes the door.

  Once I reach the surface—still anchored on the pedestal fixed to the tree—the floor shifts down just like last time to make way for the lake water. When I feel a tug on the ropes, I realize they aren’t just ropes, but cables.

  Luc wants me to jump.

  Needless to say, I understand why Dove told me I would enjoy tonight’s performance. There—circling in the lake—is a ring of five swans, not sprite lights, but real and trained and waiting for me to dive directly into their center. Cables tug on me again, propelling my body up ever so slightly.

  He’s waiting for me. Everyone is.

  I want to search for Sky’s face, but I know he’s lingering somewhere in the shadows, as usual.

  I press my hands together, close my eyes, and leap from the tree.

  Sheer sheets of air almost knock the wind out of me before the water cradles my body. Except, I’m still attached to the cables, and this time, Luc has no intention of letting me dive deeper. The cables return me to the surface. I flip my long hair back so I can see, creating a magnificent arc of water droplets above my head as I do so. Disturbed by my dive or trained to fly, the five swans soar all around me as the ropes haul my body through the air. Instead of fighting the inertia tempting my stomach to lurch, I succumb to the motion. Exhaling, I feed Swan, who’s taken up root inside me while the real swans follow me into the air. We are flying together.

  The applause thunders louder than ever.

  Ferried through the air, I wonder what they see. White enchantment or white fury? Water droplets topple off my body and dress, sailing through the air before rejoining the lake. Above me, the cables swing my body, stirring me into some sultry, flying dance. Slow enough I can respond without feeling too dizzy. Gusts of wind clap my face, and I pretend the wind is water. Pretend I’m still swimming, moving my arms and legs to respond. The result must work since the applause grows.

  I wonder how far I can take this. Thinking, I slip into a crouch and flip forward. The action is so fast because all the motion propels me up again, and the force of the inertia somersaults my stomach, but my flip turns the applause into a roaring cacophony. Whistles and candles sway back and forth to the music echoing in the background.

  After my flip, the cables dip my body until my feet kiss the surface of the water. Aware it’s being controlled, I’m unsurprised when the cables dip me in the water to my knees only to lift me to the air again. Luc must be controlling them. And he wants more.

  On the next dip, I tilt my head back and curve my spine so my hair rolls into the water. I point my toes and keeping my long, white legs raised high so my back coils into a flawless arc.

  The ropes snap, and I capsize into the water, finally free to swim and to dive. When I approach the underwater viewing center and see a thousand different eyes, hypnotized by my form, I get a sense, just a stirring, of the power the one graphicker referred to. I am the master. They are the slaves.

  I become one glorious Swan fantasy.

  As usual, Luc greets me with a blanket inside the canoe along with a proud smile strutting across his face. Just like the last two times, he addresses the crowd, which roars even louder this time.

  Then, he lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers, “I look forward to seeing the real Serenity.”

  I ask Dove to leave so I can undress myself. Staring into the mirror, I try to figure this out. Any favor, he’d said. How could he promise that if he knows the connection to my parents?

  I remove the dress starting with the strap, which twists around my back, peel back the feathers on my chest, the sheath on my stomach, and the fabric on my legs until I’m just skin and hair again. All Dove’s work to straighten my hair is ruined, but her painted designs remain.

  With one leg planted on the bathtub, I soak a rag in water and soap and begin to scrub, viciously scrub, until every trace of swan white escapes down the drain. Except for that damned feather. I reach for a towel, to smooth it around my body. Finally, I collapse regardless of how hunched over I am with my head on the tub faucet and my feet on the floor. Didn’t quite make it all the way. Panting, I clutch the towel around my chest, its ends falling around my lower thighs. Spent and tired. The exhibit always leaves me so tired.

  My eyes are closed, so I hear the water turn off before I open my eyes to see the hand coming off the faucet—too tan to be Luc’s.

  He sits on the edge of the tub, leaning over me, touching a space below my shoulder blade. “You missed a spot.”

  I don’t flinch when Sky touches me. It doesn’t feel wrong when he takes the rag from my hand, then starts to scrub away the stains on my back.

  “What are you doing here? What about the cameras?” I don’t shift my face from the faucet, just eye him as he tugs at the towel around my back, edges it lower so he can get at the rest of the paint.

  “Footage is on a loop for now. And Luc’s preoccupied for the moment. Monitoring client appointments. But I overheard him muttering to himself. Something about seeing the real Serenity. Something you want to share?”

  “If I show him Serenity tonight, just be me for one night, then he won’t only answer any question I want. He’ll grant me any favor.”

  Sky’s hand hardens on my skin. “You’re playing with fire, Serenity. You’ve never played with fire well.”

  “Ow…” I wince when his fingers dig into my skin right near the tattoo. “I know what the boundaries are. What he expects.”

  Sky’s hands practically growl on my back, fingers snarling into my spine. “You know what he expects, but you don’t know what he desires.”

  My lips are cold against the faucet when I answer, “And what about my desires?”

  Abruptly, Sky stands up and turns his back to me. “You’re sick, Serenity. I didn’t think you’d be so weak.”

  “Sky!” Raising my voice, I pivot my body at the same time, “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

  He doesn’t turn around, which just enrages me even more until I rake my nails into the back of his neck. This time, he doesn’t throw me off, he twists me around so I’m in front of him and pins me against the wall.

  Then he raises one big finger to my face. “I haven’t worked this hard for you to throw it all away on a whim. Your parents are counting on you. You’re not one of his Birds, so stop acting like one.”

  Through my tears, I muster a nod. This is Sky grounding me. This is real. With Luc, I never know what’s real.

  His hands hold my tiny, toweled waist high against the wall. He is so strong. Always has been. Sky—strong in body and will; Serenity—strong in spirit and life. That’s what my mother always s
aid.

  He stares at me for a few seconds, eyes drifting down a little.

  I narrow my brows, sharpen my eyes harder than a dragon scale. “What are you doing?” Sky would never take it too far. Would I?

  With a frown, Sky shakes his head and sets my feet down again, glances away. “Nothing.”

  I cinch the towel tighter around my frame, not to be undone by his questing eyes. “You’re not the only one working. You have no idea what I’ve been going through.”

  “You really need to stop talking.” He tugs me out of his way, then makes for the door. “I’m doing a damn good job right now. Don’t tempt me.”

  “You know I hate it when you do that,” I say as I follow him into the main room.

  “Yeah, well, I hate it when you do a lot of things.” He doesn’t stop walking.

  “Fine! Be a stubborn ass.”

  I wander to the closet and fish out one of the white dresses, slam the door, drop the towel, and don’t come out until I’m clothed.

  But he’s there, sliding into the closet behind me once I’ve finished dressing. Confused, I watch as Sky closes the door, clenches his fist at his sides, and eyes me. “You can’t imagine how terrified I am.” At his words, my body feels more grounded than ever. I pacify myself to hear what Sky has to say.

  “Every time your exhibit opens, every time he shows you off for the world to see, every time he feels like he’s closer to you…” Sky’s words trail off, his breath a warm echo, but his hand reaches up to cup my cheek. It’s so big it swallows half my face.

  “Sometimes, I think it’d be simpler to help my parents if—”

  Sky’s eyes turn lethal. “Don’t you ever think that! You never have to give him anything. You have no idea how men are or what they think. You’ve never seen the way the world works or what men do as soon as they get what they want.”