The Aquarium

by Emily Shore

  Suspicious, I meander toward the desk and plant my hands on its edges. “Is that what this is all about? You resent me because I’m not like you? Because I don’t want to kill to gain the upper hand?”

  Sighing, Haven looks up from the sprite-light screen she’s just conjured. “I don’t resent you, Serenity. You are right. I have killed to get the upper hand. And I will continue killing to gain it. That is the way the world works. A woman can either choose a quick grave for her attacker or a slow one for herself. Most choose the slow grave.”

  “Did you always choose the quick one?” I challenge, leaning in, searching for the truth in her eyes, but she gives me nothing. Not even a blink. Just swirling dark pools with no angel or ghost lights inside them.

  “You should consider your own choices,” she deflects again, eyes returning to her screen, which casts pixel reflections on her creamy skin. “The first of which should be returning to the performance room for your interaction. I will review the feeds later. And at the end of the weekend, you will receive your reward.”

  I don’t bother asking about a harbor visit as Milo referenced. It’s far too soon for that, especially with my latest action of storming into her office. Just before I exit it, I touch the wall, glance back, and add, “I won’t work with him. Just you.”

  Haven stiffens, pausing the sprite light. “You will find a way,” she pointedly declares, every word shark-tooth sharp. “Or he will.”

  I leave the room.

  “She’s right. Time to start listening,” Wylder echoes his sister’s warnings outside the door.

  Chuffing a laugh, I stalk away.

  But Wylder is not about to let me get away with that. He arrests my arm and purrs low in my ear, breath like hot saltwater on my neck, stinging. “Be careful, Swan. My sister respects you, but I know what you really are. You’re just her little mer-pet. You think she plans on allowing you to leave after two years?” I start to heave, swallowing bile. “Not with that pretty little implant in your fucking perfect body. You belong to us now.” His words solidify like icebergs forming in the ocean. “Time to start acting like it.” When Wylder nips my ear, I finally bring my knee up. Straight into his crotch. His growl teems into my ears as I run away and don’t stop until I’m back in the exhibit.

  Fire in my belly and ready for another interaction with Sky.

  The directives are much more specific than Milo’s simple request of repeating our duo dance. They got a battle in the performance, but, for this client, they want another one…between queen and king. My legs have snapped back together, tail uniting them, fitting like a glove. It’s not an equal playing field because I can hold my breath longer, swim better than Sky…always. Yet, somehow, I’m supposed to lose.

  But I’ll sure give them a show up to that point.

  And it seems Sky will, too.

  Even from the opposite end of the tank as he treads water, I can read his facial expressions. He’s using the revulsion, the disgust, the loathing in his favor. Ready to launch it all my way. Only one question remains…

  How far will we take this?

  When he charges for me from the opposite end of the tank, I almost don’t dive. Instead, I almost attack him. So much of my lightning chops at my butterflies, but the rest form an impenetrable barrier. Even so, I know I must do battle, but an escape before a battle is just as appealing.

  Make it look good, right?

  Once I reach the bottom of the tank, I find a coral cove and hide even though I’d never do such a thing. Bubbles betray me. These breathing implants are brilliant, but they do have this one drawback.

  At least the cove has an opening on each side because Sky knows where to find me. He only catches me once I reach the surface, catapulting half my body out of the water right before he drags me back down. He forces my mouth open, and we exchange bubbles until there are too many, which dance in a trail until they can unite with the air. With his fingers prodding, plowing into my back, Sky and I sink lower. He devours me. I feast on him, trying to find a way into these new skins.

  He’s better.

  He peels the back of the costume, prying the scales apart and away from my skin. In response, I place my hands on his arms, softly push. All it would take is one kick from this prosthetic tail. One kick to overpower him. But I’m supposed to lose. And enjoy it. So, I close my eyes, arch my back, and thrust my hips toward him as he slashes the costume with his bare hands until we are equal. My naked legs begin churning up the water, almost desperate to try to escape despite the lack of my tail. And then, I pause when I see Sky’s eyes. Dark as charred bark but cold. No trace of warmth. No eager embers scorching a path straight to my butterflies.

  There’s no time to escape or even prepare myself. With one move, he rips at the lining of the diamond bra. It drops. A lustrous, black mantle plummeting to the bottom of the tank. Sky kisses me harder. Everything is harder. Except for the liquid around us because water is always unchanging in how it ever changes. Right now, what has always given me strength and solitude is torture. A stark contrast to what my husband’s body is doing.

  Just his body.

  Tonight, we don’t just stand on the line. We straddle it

  After our interaction, I’m more than winded and a little surprised because Wylder doesn’t interrupt me whatsoever when I un-become the Sea Star. Something is wrong. Given our earlier encounter with my storming into Haven’s office, there is no reason to believe he wouldn’t be here. To taunt me, to goad me, to parade his dominance…unless…

  I run. Careless that all I have on is a mere white slip and bare feet, I run as fast as I can to our quarters. That’s when I see Wylder staring down an incensed Neil. It’s the first time I’ve seen my brother’s eyes that color. Like vile green scum on top of a still lake. And I realize why when I hear Lindy’s shrieking protests from inside the main room, growing closer along with one familiar sound—my son’s cries. They trigger every memory from that night on the shore when our children were first taken.

  Now, he’s just taking one.

  Adrenaline charges a firestorm inside me. I hurl myself at the nanny, who has a squirming Kerrie clutched in her arms. As soon as his eyes land on me, he starts to squeal even more, crying for “Momma”.

  “Get your hands off my son,” I scream, but I don’t get within two feet of the nanny before Wylder’s solid hand slams down on my chest, forcing me back. As strong as a wave’s inertia hitting me from underwater. And I can’t breathe. Not when I see the nanny disappear down the hallway with my baby as he claws her shoulder, scrambling for his family, his lightning curls waving wild in the air.

  Lindy’s sobs almost cover up Wylder’s voice as he murmurs in my ear with his arm still wrapped around my chest to prevent me from following the nanny. “Every action has a consequence. You defy me… I take away your son.”

  I jerk my head to his, turning my eyes sharper than piranha teeth ready to tear human flesh. “Only a coward separates a mother from her child.” I spit in his face.

  Instead, Wylder responds with something caught halfway between a smile and a sneer. “You just lost an extra night with your son.” He reaches for my throat as he had earlier. But not hard this time, not with intent to strangle but to remind me. Soft, the slender digits caress their way up my neck, his index finger settling on my subtle but throbbing apple. “Anything else your smart mouth wants to say?”

  “Release my wife now,” Sky interrupts, possession fused into every word.

  It’s no great feat to see Wylder is intimidated by Sky since he releases me a moment later before eyeing the other man, who’s twice his size in weight.

  “Serenity?” Sky looks to me for answers just after he glances at Neil, who is comforting his own wife.

  I set my teeth, preying my eyes on Wylder. “He took Kerrie away.”

  Every muscle in Sky’s jaw turns rigid, and he steps toward Wylder, who raises a finger in warning.

  “You both seem to forget I am second only to Director Grav
es,” Wylder reminds us, folding his hands behind his back, beginning to pace. “And, as her manager, I do what is necessary to ensure this Museum, and especially these floors, run smoothly. Not even Haven will know the location of your son. Only me.” He pauses, his body at an angle to mine. “You’ve brought this on yourself, Serenity Storm. Perhaps if you start mimicking your first name instead of your last, this sort of distasteful punishment wouldn’t be necessary.”

  Sky raises an eyebrow. “Serenity, what is he talking about?”

  “Ahh…” Wylder grins knowingly. “So, she hasn’t told you about her little outburst in my sister’s office directly following your performance? You must have wondered why she was late for your interaction. This is the result.” He extends a hand to me, but he sweeps his gaze to Sky before declaring, “Perhaps you would do better to keep your wife under control.” He straightens, goading Sky with another remark. “That is what a real man does after all. And we both know you’re more than able.”

  The last comment stabs, causing Sky to bristle, reminding us of our interactions. “My wife should have the right to defend herself,” Sky tries to debate, but my butterflies wilt at the phrase “should have the right” because even he understands my rights are no better than granules of sand slipping between the cracks.

  Wylder smiles as if sensing the underlayer of meaning, so he doesn’t bother to follow up with anything other than, “Provided you do well with your next interactions and that your wife behaves herself, your son will be returned at the end of the weekend. Sleep well.”

  Just after Wylder departs, Sky shoves past me, his eyes hard as hailstones and dark as the thunderclouds from where they come. The first thing he does is check on Verity. Miraculous she managed to sleep through this whole ordeal, but I have to wonder if she will sleep through the next.

  “What are you going to do?” Neil asks after he and Lindy step inside. She’s too tear-stricken for much of anything, and I gently take her arm and usher her into the adjoining kitchen so she can sit at the table for tea.

  Fixed, Sky stands in the center of the room and replies, “Nothing.”

  The word is final in its helplessness. Sky knows he has no control, no choice whatsoever. For the first time, everything is water escaping from his hands. Even in the Temple, he had choices. He could defy my father. He could find dignity and worth in his treatment of the girls my father sent. He could show the world what he was truly made of. Here, Sky is powerless. It’s like the implant Luc once had, which issues out a triggered warning if adrenaline spikes in the blood too much. Calm down or the heart will stop beating. Except ours is invisible and carries the names Kerrie and Verity. Haven and Wylder have taken our children and turned them into an anchor, which we carry with chains around our necks. And Sky has carried the chains better than me.

  I pour Lindy’s tea even as Neil confronts Sky in the family room. “Not what are you allowed to do—what are you going to do?”

  Sky turns, eyes pinched as they coast along my brother. “Stop attacking me just because you couldn’t defend your own family, Neil.” Sky’s voice deepens to a level I haven’t heard since we were in the Temple. Like steel claws, it latches onto Neil and refuses to let go. “Figure it out, Neil. We can do nothing. They hold all the cards this time. I have no choices but the ones they want me to have.” Lindy and I study them, her mouth puckered in concern, mine parted but with no breath escaping. Because I’m underwater again. I’m inside our interaction, replaying the scenes as Sky leans toward Neil and adds, “No choice but to act out their little play. No choice but to watch the sick way they treat my wife. No choice but to fuck my wife before hell knows who. There’s nothing we can do.”

  Sky says nothing else and exits the family room, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

  “Serenity?” Neil asks expectantly. Lindy does the same, and I remember her words. To do anything to protect my family. Even if it means getting in bed with the Syndicate. The Graves have proven they’re willing to do anything to secure our obedience, even if it means taking one of our children away. What am I willing to do to keep my family together?

  18

  M u r D e r a n d M i L o

  * * *

  This is how I find myself knocking on Tristan’s door at two in the morning. I have to knock a number of times before he opens it, the strings around his robe a little loose since he was still in the process of tying them. Liquid glitter coats half his upper chest.

  “Little late for a social call, princess,” he greets me, but he doesn’t swing the door open. “I’m afraid I’m a little…occupied.” He nods to the bathroom where I see a trail of gold glitter from the tub, but he has the lights off to enhance the swirling twister of colorful bubbles. I pick up on the traces of body butter on his skin. “Psychedelic Glitter bath. The latest rage.”

  “Arrange a private meeting for this weekend.” I keep my words short and to the point. “I’m ready to talk terms.”

  “Mmm…” He sighs, appreciative. “Good thing. If I didn’t bring some good news soon, the Syndicate would’ve sent someone else.”

  “Someone not as polite as you?” I wager.

  “Lot less pretty, that’s for sure.” He swipes at some glitter on his chest, then smears it across the tip of my nose.

  Smiling, I stand on my tiptoes so I can give him a kiss. “Thank you.”

  “Your wish, my command, princess.”

  He closes the door.

  On my way back to our quarters, I decide to stop one level down and make my way to Sharky’s tank. No doubt my footsteps are being monitored, but since Wylder hasn’t shown up to stop me, I assume I’m free to wander. It’s well after hours. Most of the tourists are sleeping or in their suites, watching sprite lights. Any others are in the club districts dancing the night away with motion-water floors that ripple and change color to different beats, waterfall walls, and thousands of floating bubbles to simulate an underwater life. Another club actually juts out of the tower in an enormous sphere with 360-windows. Like my preparation room but in club form.

  Reaching Sharky’s tank, I approach the glass to talk to him, surprised when I don’t see his familiar V of water rippling toward me. Even more concerned when I can’t see his shape anywhere. I hunch over to search under the tank, finally discovering him on the very bottom, circling and circling in smaller loops. Why?

  That’s when I see the brown shape bobbing in the water out of the corner of my eye. I scramble up the steps toward the girl floating face-up in the water, her dark hair like a spill of coffee behind her. And one bloody line around her neck, no bigger than a slit, mottling her brown satin skin.

  And I’m too late. Not one part of me faults my shark for doing what comes naturally. Charging into the body and snapping his mighty jaws down, rows of teeth sinking into dead flesh. But I can’t stay and watch. On the last step, I slip on the water splashing from Sharky’s body and crash hard against the cement, but I ignore the pain. Need to make it to the stairs. Need to make it to Sky.

  Instead, Wylder barrels into me halfway up the stairs, planting his hands on my arms, aware of my panic. “You stay right here until Haven comes, or I swear to God you won’t see your son for a whole week.”

  And I crumble to my knees even as Wylder ascends the staircase to enter the tank room. The killer is escalating. This time, he dropped her body into my shark’s tank. The message is clear.

  This is personal.

  Rooted where I am on the staircase, I remain near a pacing Wylder and wait for Haven to appear. I half expect to see her wearing nightclothes, but there’s no change from her bodysuit from earlier. She marks me once, but her gaze is fleeting since she moves toward her brother.

  “Did you check the feeds?” she inquires, and I find myself surprised. Why wouldn’t she do that before this, especially if she just came from her office?

  Wylder nods, then lowers his voice to murmur something in her ear. Why did he bother with me staying if he didn’t want me to know anything?r />
  Haven positions herself on the top step. Wylder descends to the one below her, and the juxtaposition is not lost on me. Come to think of it, he always does that. Even though he’s taller than her by an inch or two, he hunches in her presence—something out of character for anyone else. Second only to Haven. Maybe it’s why he works so hard to assert himself before everyone else.

  “…have to consider the possibility,” I overhear him say.

  Haven shakes her head, speaking low enough I cannot hear. She’s well practiced at that art. Since her calling card is the whisper, I’ve experienced how she never makes the mistake of slipping into such a hushed tone. However, it’s the closest I’ve witnessed something akin to fury in her eyes. The corners of Wylder’s eyes crease, concerned…no, even desperate. He purses his lips, raising a hand to the side as if to form some sort of explanation. She is unmovable. For the first time, his head moves more, hair black as a pirate flag waving back and forth.

  “What did you see?”

  Just after Haven has asked the question, I must come off the wall and slide out of my ponderings to answer, “I didn’t see anyone around the tank area. The body was already in the water when I arrived.”

  “And why were you here?” she asks without moving from her location, her ranking.

  I bite down on my lower lip, almost considering lying, but they can check the feeds if they haven’t already. “I stopped by after visiting a friend.”

  Haven’s nostrils flare. “Your Syndicate friend.”

  Instead of shrinking back like Wylder does, I slide one foot forward, raising my eyes to hers. “I met him years ago in the Temple. He is my friend.” That is the truth, no matter his other reasons for being here.

  Tapering her brows for a moment, Haven juts her chin toward Wylder, her eyes like needles dipped in black squid ink, poisonous and lethal. “Take her back to her quarters. I’ll clean up your mess.”