Clementine, suddenly without a floor beneath her, glanced down to the growing distance between her feet and the platform. With a shriek of fear, she curled her fingers tightly around Dell’s belt.
‘Dell!’
‘Let go of me!’ Dell twisted, trying to dislodge Clementine, and took them both out to just beyond the lip of the platform.
‘Clementine!’ With a sudden rush of wings, Benedick threw himself after the two of them. He wrapped his hands around Clementine’s ankles just before she was dragged beyond his grasp. ‘I’ve got you!’
No you really haven’t, Clementine thought in a panic, without breath to voice the thought. She was stretched between Dell, still trying to fly away, and Benedick, who wouldn’t let go of her feet.
‘Dell!’ she pleaded. ‘Take me back!’
‘Let go!’ Dell kicked out. Clementine gripped Dell’s belt harder, terrified that if she let go she’d fall all the way down.
Benedick, too, was being dragged closer to the platform’s edge every moment. His uneven wings were spread wide and he tried to shift them for balance. He beat them down once, twice, trying to gain a little height and some leverage to get a better hold of Clementine.
If I let go of Dell, I’ll fall and take Benedick down with me, was all Clementine could think. ‘Dell, please!’
‘Let go of me!’
Another kick, which connected clumsily but painfully with Clementine’s ribs. Clementine could feel her hands cramping, she was holding on so tightly. Benedick’s hands were clamped around her ankles too and she could feel the strong draft from the downbeat of his wings as he resisted Dell’s attempt to fly away. Benedick grunted with the effort of it.
Clementine didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t let go or she would fall and take Benedick with her. If she could at least make Benedick release his hold, only one of them would get hurt.
‘Benedick, let me go!’
‘No!’
‘Benedick, please, she’ll pull you over!’
‘I’m not.’ He struggled to hold her—‘letting’—and to beat his wings—‘you’—but the damaged one was failing already—‘go!’—unable to extend fully, not strong enough to allow an even stroke. His good wing had to take the full brunt of the struggle, thrown out of kilter by the weakness in the other.
‘Please!’
‘No!’
Clementine realised to her horror that she’d have to kick Benedick hard and hope he’d fall backwards onto the platform. She would have to take her chances with Dell then, but Benedick would be safe. Might be safe, if he fell right.
She tried to free her legs from his grip, to kick, but he really wouldn’t let go. She heard him curse as he slid closer to the edge.
‘Benedick!’
Or he could fall all that way again, be hurt—or worse—again. She stopped trying to make him let her go; she stopped struggling and only tried to hold on.
He made no answer, but hung more tightly to her ankles, one wing beating down ferociously, the other fluttering with spasms.
Then suddenly two bodies flew up at them: one a burst of dark feathers swooping up into Clementine from below, arms wrapped around her waist, the other a flurry of russet flying right into Dell’s face.
Clementine cried out as she was pulled away, desperate to see where Benedick had gone. What she saw was Dell struggling in the threads of a fine net, thrown over her head and wings so that she couldn’t fly, suspended instead between the red-haired officer who had bagged her in the net and the officer’s partner, brown wings beating hard as the two of them lowered their prisoner to the ground four metres below.
As her feet hit the platform, Clementine twisted in the arms of the officer who’d swooped in to scoop her to safety. She searched desperately for Benedick—and there he was, on the floor, gasping for breath and shuddering all over. He was still trying to crawl towards her, held back only by his friend Marca.
Clementine ran to him, folding down to her knees as she reached his side: glad for it because she was shaking so hard she couldn’t stand anymore.
‘I’m here, I’m here, I’m here,’ she said over and over and over, stroking his face.
He seized her arms, sobbing in one breath after another. ‘Clem. Blessed sun, blessed be, Clementine. You’re all right.’
‘I’m fine.’ She pressed their foreheads together, and wrapped her arms, trembling with fatigue and adrenalin, around him there on the gallery floor. And she stroked his shuddering, spasming wings with her slender hands, pushing her fingers through the fibres of hair and keratin so her fingertips could rub against his skin. ‘I’ve got you now,’ she whispered, lips pressed to his temple. ‘We’re okay. We’re okay.’
Chapter Fourteen
Benedick lay on Clementine’s bed, his naked body curved around hers, his cheek pillowed on her shoulder. His right wing had finally stopped spasming, though little shivers still ran through it periodically. Painkillers had helped reduce the pain to a dull ache. The wing was draped down his flank, partially covering Clementine’s body next to him. His left wing swept down his left side, over shoulder, arms, rump and thighs, less sore but just as tired.
The leaden weariness of his shivering wing was alleviated by the tips of Clementine’s fingers combing between his feathers and his skin. From time to time she kissed his forehead, but mostly she just held him.
They had returned to Avalon Towers in an open taxi, Octavia with them to ensure they reached home safely. Benedick was grateful, his wings hardly able to provide ballast as the driver took turns at incautious speed. Clementine was subdued and made no protest when Octavia helped both of them from the car and into the lift. Statements had been taken at the gallery; Dell had been taken away in a police cage.
Marca had sheepishly acknowledged that yes, it seemed Dell MacGovern had used the tactics of racism and misogyny in her ‘publicity campaign’ thinking that’s what avianism would look like.
Neither Benedick nor Clementine had been very interested in Marca’s epiphany.
Into the well of exhausted, fragile silence, Clementine finally began to speak to Benedick about what had happened.
‘I’m sorry I kicked you. I was trying to get you back to safety.’
‘As if I’d leave you with Dell.’
‘I didn’t think she’d really drop me. Not on purpose.’
Benedick shuddered from toe to wingtip, an involuntary reaction of horror. ‘You have a lot of faith in someone who thought it was okay to let you think you had a violent stalker.’
Clementine held him closer. ‘She isn’t a killer. A feckless little shrikethrush of a woman, maybe.’ She grimaced ruefully. ‘I don’t have the rosiest view of humanity, but I suppose I have faith that people are who they are. I’m an impulsive loudmouth. Dell is a shrewd but unscrupulous art dealer.’
‘Spot on about Dell being unscrupulous and a shrikethrush. You’re not an impulsive loudmouth, though. You’re something else.’
‘What else?’
‘A fighter.’
Clementine pressed a sorrowful kiss to his brow. ‘A fighter who’s been fighting so long I forget that I don’t have to fight all the time.’
‘And that you don’t have to fight alone.’
‘Point taken.’
‘What am I, then?’
‘You’re a knight in shining armour.’
‘Don’t laugh at me.’
‘I’m not laughing at you. But it’s who you are. You’re a natural protector. You want to help people. You want to save people.’
‘Yeah, I get it. “Thanks for the rescue but no thanks.” That’s what you mean.’
‘That’s not what I mean.’
‘Tell me, then.’
‘Thank you for looking out for me.’ She pressed one small hand along his jaw, holding his gaze hard, as though she could implant her thoughts directly into his heart and mind, so that he understood the depth of what she felt. ‘Thank you for having my back. Thank you for being my wings when I n
eeded them. Thank you for holding onto me so I wouldn’t fall, because how should you know if Dell would drop me, on purpose or by accident? How can any of us know how things will turn out? We don’t. So you held on to me, to keep me safe. Thank you.’
The tension bled out of Benedick’s shoulders and arms. ‘Thank you,’ he said, kissing her cheeks and her forehead. ‘For trying to save me too, then.’
She shifted beneath his arms, rubbing his calf with her instep, her inner thigh over his knee, up to his hip.
‘I love you,’ she murmured, fingertips buried in his feathers, caressing the skin underneath.
‘I love you, too.’
‘And I want you.’
He smiled and caressed her skin. ‘But you don’t need me.’
‘Maybe I do. I keep telling myself I don’t need anyone. But that’s not true. I need you. My heart needs you.’
‘I need you as well, you know. I don’t want you to be scared of that.’
‘I’m not scared.’
‘You think that I’m going to stop needing you and then I’ll be done with you.’
Clementine was silent because to protest that would be to lie.
‘I don’t need you to teach me how to live on the ground, Clementine. I don’t need you for Wingless 101. I don’t need you so that I can forget how much I miss flying. That’s not what this is about.’
Clementine stroked his face tenderly. ‘You’re allowed to miss it. I’m sorry that for a while you thought you had to hide that. I don’t want you to hide anything from me. I have no idea how long you’ll grieve for your wings. I love you. I never want you to hurt, but even if it’s forever, I’ll be here for you. I’ll help however I can.’
‘You help,’ said Benedick. He pressed a kiss to her throat, another to her cheek, another against the damp corner of her eye. ‘Even when I’ve found my feet again, your passion and energy and vision help me. You show me how I want to live this new life I have. Sometimes, being with you feels just like flying. Unbodied joy.’
He shifted in her arms, pulling her against him until they lay side by side. Clementine cuddled in close, grateful for his solid presence, grateful for his courage, grateful that she didn’t have to learn to live without him. That would, for her, be like suddenly living without the sky.
My heart needs him. And his needs me. And that’s all right.
She kiss-kiss-kissed his chest and along his throat. She lay across his chest and kiss-kiss-kissed his face.
‘Please don’t fall again,’ she whispered against his mouth, then kissed him again. ‘Please stay with me.’
Benedick stroked her back, fingers rubbing down the slender bars of fine hair that grew beneath her scapula, alongside the scars where her wings had never grown. She held his face between her fingers and they kissed. Long. Slow. Deep.
‘I’ll stay,’ he promised. ‘Please—’
‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Oh yes.’
He pulled her closer, and she wrapped herself close around him, and then they drifted to sleep, each secure in knowing the other was safe.
Chapter Fifteen
Clementine stood with folded arms in front of the central showpiece of the Nature Lovers exhibition. The metre-high canvas was a dual photographic portrait of herself and Octavia, altered and augmented with painted portions. In the photographic image, Clementine was laughing with her head thrown back, while Octavia’s chin was down, her eyes and the corners of her mouth crinkling with impish hilarity. Her stubby wings had fluttered wide, useless for flying but providing a soft grey halo around her shoulders and arms.
Clementine smiled fondly at the memory of the story Octavia had been telling at the time. As a teenager, Octavia had tried to dye her wings scarlet. They’d come out a muddy green instead, ruining her plans of attending her end-of-school fancy dress party as a fire dragon. Octavia’s little sister had called her blowfly all night. In revenge, Octavia had buried all her sister’s Centurion Sky Armada action figures under a hawthorn tree.
Octavia had set up the photograph, taking care with the lighting and camera settings, using a remote to trigger a series of shots as they told each other stories of childhood shenanigans.
After choosing the perfect shot and having it printed on the large canvas, Clementine had set about painting over it strategically. Candy moths were scattered in her hair and over her body, with one or two on Octavia’s wings. Between them, they had chosen an iridescent green beetle that matched Octavia’s eyes, which Clementine placed in paint in Octavia’s hair, shoulders and wings.
It was the theme of the Nature Lovers show—humans and the beautiful tiny creatures of the ground.
Clementine had never worked with another artist before. She’d found it challenging at times, having to listen to another voice. She’d had a few fights with Octavia, too, but they’d managed always to find a balance in what they wanted to achieve. The more they worked together, the easier it got to find that balance. The result was a dozen beautiful pieces of which Clementine was very proud.
Clementine glanced at her watch—ten minutes till the door opened and the exhibition officially opened—and paced into the next room. The feature piece on this wall was an altered, bare-chested photograph of Benedick. Octavia had captured his steadiness and courage. A lifted eyebrow suggested his mischievous humour.
Clementine had added a sheen of golden honey to his skin, making half of his face and body glow like a sun god. Little honeybees were dotted around his hair and on his chest, several flying around his head like a halo.
‘You can almost hear them buzzing. A nice, honey-making buzz,’ said his warm voice from the doorway. She turned to smile at Benedick who leaned against the wide frame, handsome and definitely not covered in honey. Pity. Instead, he was dressed in his sheath skirt and an elegant high-collared shirt, an ensemble that complemented her own short dress with ice-blue-tipped grey tassels and a jaunty headpiece of blue net and crystals.
‘Bees aren’t all fuzzy stripes and honey,’ she teased.
‘You’re right,’ he said, examining the painting more closely. ‘There’s the sting. They’re just a little dangerous.’
‘A little,’ she conceded. ‘Loyal to the queen though. Industrious. Clever.’
‘Are we still talking about bees?’ he said, taking her in his arms.
‘More or less.’ She tilted her chin up so he could kiss her, then pulled away with a laugh. ‘Don’t you go distracting me again.’
Benedick laughed and let her go. ‘Ready for the speeches? Octavia’s going over her notes again. She’s very nervous.’
Clementine tapped her temple with her forefinger. ‘My speech is all memorised, despite your best efforts to distract me this afternoon.’
‘I was helping you to relax,’ he corrected her amiably. ‘And after a little extra short-term tension, you relaxed quite a lot, and quite loudly, as I recall.’
‘You’ve reframed the argument. That’s all that lawyerly training you’re getting,’ Clementine told him, patting him on the chest. ‘You and your wily debating skills.’
‘That’s me. Super wily and lawyerly, like one of those hot shot Legal Eagles from the telly.’
Clementine stretched onto her tip-toes to kiss his lips before settling back in his arms. She took a steadying breath, then asked: ‘Has she come?’
‘No. Do you really want her to?’
‘Yes. No. No. Maybe.’
Benedick kissed her brow. ‘Dell’s done her minimum three months in the Cage. She’s apologised privately and publicly. The whole thing’s made a mess of her career. What will having her here prove to you?’
‘That I’m stronger than she is.’
‘We already know that.’
‘That what she did doesn’t hurt.’
‘But it did. It hurt. Why would you want to pretend it didn’t?’
Clementine took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘Because I used to think it made me stronger to be angry instead of feeling the pain. Being angry ma
de me feel less lonely. It made me keep getting up when sometimes I just wanted to stay down and hide under the pines with the candy moths.’ Then she wrapped her arms more tightly around his waist. ‘But I don’t need to think that anymore.’
‘You don’t.’
‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Are you … still hurting, because of what she did?’
‘No,’ he said blithely. At her stern look, he settled his arms more closely around her waist. ‘No,’ he said, more sincerely. ‘What Dell did to you made me angry, but my problem was never about her. I was angry about a lot of things.’
‘Grieving.’ Clementine brushed her fingers down his face, concern in her eyes.
‘Yes. But not anymore.’
‘No?’
‘I miss flying, still,’ Benedick confessed, ‘I always will. But losing the air doesn’t hurt like it used to. I told Liam this week—I think I’ve accepted it at last. I have a new life, and it’s a good life. I have purpose, I have goals. I’ve finally fulfilled the mantras he taught me. I adjusted my sails to catch the new direction of the wind. I made a new destination and I reached it.’
‘You did the necessary, and the possible, like I always did.’
‘And here we are. Achieving things.’
‘Go us!’ she cheered sotto voce, smiling, and leaned up as he leaned down.
They kissed softly, then more deeply. Benedick’s wings flared, sheltering them.
‘Clem!’ Octavia’s voice was slightly panicked. ‘Clem, it’s time to open the doors! Where are you?’
Clementine and Benedick released each other reluctantly, skin flushed, eyes sparkling with want and delight.
‘Just a minute!’ Clementine called back.
‘Are you pashing Benedick again?’ Octavia shouted accusingly.
‘No!’ Clementine yelled back, then spoiled it by giggling.
‘Ugh!’ They could practically hear her eyes rolling at them, and then her usual muttered complaints that they could continue being stupidly in love after the opening.
Benedick offered Clementine his hand. ‘Speech time, my candy moth.’
Grounded Page 18