The Aquarium

by Emily Shore

  But first, I suck in a deep breath and knock on Haven’s door. It opens a second later. Quicker than I expected. Unlike the other times I’ve come here, Haven isn’t busying herself with her underwater empire with its host of responsibilities. Instead, she remains in her chair, beckoning me forward. On her desk is a small black box. Velvet. Expensive. Equipped with a digital key lock.

  “What complaint do you have today, Sea Star?” She addresses me by my stage name, coiling the net tighter around my throat. Why now? My eyes deviate to the box for a brief moment because Haven wouldn’t leave it there without a purpose. Everything she does is intentional.

  “I’m here to discuss terms.”

  She snickers and sits upright, her black ponytail reminding me of a sleek eel clinging to her spine. “And what makes you think I would renegotiate my contract? I still hold the ace. Two in fact.” She pours more poison into her voice than usual. More force in those barbs that are laced with the promise of my twins.

  I approach her desk and position my hands on top of it to lean closer, hoping my eyes are just as needle-like. Sharp as sea glass and shark teeth. “I’m giving you a chance before the choice is taken from you.”

  Haven simpers, lips pressed together before she rises as delicately and gracefully as a jelly. Lowering her hand to the desk, she swivels the box, which spins like a tiny black eddy before she punches in the code so it unlocks—revealing a human finger. Around the base is a Syndicate signet ring. The kind enforcers wear to identify themselves and warn any potential threats. I swallow back any discomfort. I’ve seen enough violence in my time, felt enough of it to suffer the bad taste in my mouth. Yang taps on the back door of my mind, but I don’t need her for this.

  “You think that just because the Syndicate sends their best enforcer that you have some sort of leverage?” Haven doesn’t mince words as she closes the box, tapping it with her index finger. She and I are equally matched in height, but, even so, her closing in on me feels like a threat. Her very shadow trimming mine is closer to a black blade thrust against my neck, nicking my skin.

  “Tread lightly, Sea Star.” She grins again, quipping, “You’re already up to your neck in my waves. I’d hate for the undertow to take you. But you are my Sea Star. Even if you break, your limbs will regrow. And I’ll continue to exploit them as long as I can.”

  By now, I’m almost choking on Yang, ready to regurgitate her to suck down Serenity. I’d even considered bringing my whip, but Haven will not listen to violence. Even my father listened to my violence however much he reveled in it. Haven will only respond with her own breed, which is cold and calculated compared to my lightning drive. The psycho to my socio. Everything is emotional. It damn well earns the right to be with my family’s lives in the balance. But for Haven, I cage it. Bide my time behind the bars while she circles outside like the predator she is. I can use my lightning on Wylder now. Or Yang and I can…sometimes apart, sometimes together.

  Haven will respond to nothing. Nothing less than the full force of the Syndicate. Tonight, I will alert Tristan. It’s time to bite the bullet. The bullet that has hunted for me like a tracking missile. Fired straight from my father’s gun.

  Haven wasn’t wrong about one thing. Sea Stars can regenerate. Even if all but one of their limbs are destroyed, they can grow them back. I left the Temple to heal. Haven and Wylder broke me again. But I’m growing. Not into what I was before but into something new. New and strong enough for the Temple. Not for my father’s legacy but for my own. Even if I don’t know what it looks like yet.

  “By the way, Sea Star,” Haven mentions once I’ve opened the door. “Best take caution. Another body was discovered in the exhibit tank last night. One of Wylder’s model friends. I’d hate for something to happen to you.”

  A weak, empty threat. Another joke for her. Thanks to her recent assassination, she’s far too pleased with herself to have any concerns for much anything else. A setback like a fallen model doesn’t concern her. Provided the thread does not extend to her inner circle, provided the threat is contained and her Aquarium is not compromised, Haven settles. A few anonymous dead females matter little to her. But she’ll still monopolize the opportunity to punish Wylder over it all. I can almost smell the leftovers of blood stench from not only the enforcer, but also Wylder’s whipping. How long will he stay in the CellGen room today? Not long enough to miss my exhibit. Or the aftermath. By now, I expect the whip to become a permanent extension of my arm. I’ll be ready when he comes.

  We’ll be ready, Yang echoes.

  I close the door.

  After the interaction, I’m far too exhausted for any confrontations. It was another jungle journey to the waterfall wading pool. Tonight, the pool had an extra little surprise. Glitter. Too fatigued to wash it off, I simply change into a long white dress with the diamond flecks causing me to shine like a fairy. Yang requires another source of energy that drains me, but, even so, she is ready for another encounter with Wylder. I’ll let her handle him tonight. But no one is more surprised than me that he doesn’t come as is routine.

  It’s a relief to return to our quarters without my wrist sore from the flick of the whip. Even if the rest of my body is sore. I suck the pain into myself, remembering it will all be wiped clean by the morning thanks to the immortal treatment. Other girls don’t have that advantage. My body may remember the pain, but I still won’t feel it tomorrow. They feel it every day. They adopt strategies to cope. They remember the ripping, the tearing, the blood, and the sweat salt their skin must bathe in.

  As usual, the twins are sleeping in their bubble cribs, but Neil is enclosed behind a shield, speaking in a low murmur, words muffled. As soon as he’s alerted to my presence, he shuts it and the interface on his wrist down.

  “Didn’t expect you back so soon,” he announces, giving no clue as to what he was doing before. Probably scanning one of the scores of models he’s captured in the past. He knows I don’t like him perusing his old work, his old life.

  “Where’s Lindy?” I ask, frequenting a glance to the bathroom, but the door is open.

  “I sent her to the steam room for some relaxing time. You should join her,” he suggests. “Could wash off some of that leftover glitter and give me and Sky some guy time.”

  “Guy time is right since the adjective is singular,” I poke fun.

  Neil snorts. “You really don’t have a high opinion of me, do you?”

  “You’re my brother. I love you, but I don’t have to like everything about you. Or even most everything,” I hint, exaggerating.

  He raises a hand. “I got the picture.” A moment later, he summons a sprite-light mirror app. He’s one to talk about glitter since he still has shimmery sequins in his hair. Probably using my tub again. Neil still has a fashion sense about him. Even at this time of night, he wears a tailored suit and psychedelic bow tie he taps once, which changes pattern and color. He adjusts it, snapping his fingers for the mirror to disappear. At least Tristan lets down his guard in his condo. Then again, his vice is food first, fashion second. Neil still can’t let go of all his time as a graphicker.

  “There should be a whole book dedicated to you,” I tease, a hint of malice lacing my words. “The Cocky Non-Perspicacious Peacock.”

  Neil blinks a couple of times, a little dazed.

  I kiss his cheek, then pat it twice. “Pretty face, Neil. Pretty face.”

  Brushing off my comment because that’s just Neil, he gestures to the door, “Go on. Twins won’t wake up for a drink of water for at least another hour or two. Go have some girl time with Lindy.”

  I nod, deciding it would be nice to relax a little. I leave my whip behind. Part of me doesn’t want to darken the doors of the steam room, remembering how I went there just after Wylder first assaulted me. I don’t want those memories, but this is a chance to make a new one. Overlap the old one.

  It’s only when I reach the steam room that I understand why Wylder didn’t come to me. And as always, I’m too late.
She’s fucking pregnant, and I’m too late.

  He said he would take his revenge another way. He couldn’t take it out on me.

  When he jerks out of her, Lindy crumples up on the floor, curling her naked knees up to her bulging belly as best she can. Wylder saunters away, discarding her as if she’s no more than a washcloth he’s just used. Lifting his head, he notices me, grinning all the more. My heart leaps into my throat, but I choke on it like too much water. It sinks deep down into some crevasse in my body. Dropping like a heavy weight because he’s done this on purpose. Another sort of punishment, and I can do nothing to stop it.

  Neither could she.

  How was she supposed to do anything?

  Wylder reaches up to tap my cheek. I flinch, shrinking back. Yang rises, but I force her back down and keep the lightning in my eyes and stoking my blood. “I’ll kill you for this,” I promise him. “Someday soon, I will.”

  He winks before planting one light kiss on my lips. I snarl in response, biting his lower lip enough for him to jerk back. It doesn’t have the reaction I want, considering he licks his lips and nods, enjoying the war. Yang wouldn’t have snarled or bitten. She would have taken it, then he would have been staring from the flat of his back.

  “Anything with you is never soon enough,” he says, his words echoing in the steam room right before he stalks past me.

  I slam the door behind him. Rushing to my sister-in-law, I drape a towel across her body. “I’m here, I’m here,” I repeat to her, almost frantic, hoping the steam droplets don’t resemble tears. This is not my moment to cry. I can cry with her, but not for her.

  “Go away,” she mumbles, yanking the towel up to cover her chest.

  “Lindy—”

  “Go away,” she snaps, and I nod because I needed my alone time right after it all. I needed Sharky, I needed to confront Haven, then I needed to come here. Lindy gets to decide what she needs, what she wants. If nothing else, I can let her have that. I can let her have her words, whatever feelings she wants.

  “Serenity…” she mutters, rising just a little to alert me as I reach the door. “If you tell Neil anything about this, I’ll never babysit again.”

  For the first time, Lindy’s fingers don’t move. Steadfast, they clutch the towel and don’t once flutter. She doesn’t waver in her resolve. And how can I break her trust when I haven’t told Sky the same secret? I just wish she understood that we’re in this together. But then, I look at her belly and that belief falls apart.

  She’s in so much deeper.

  25

  H e a L i n g

  * * *

  Tonight, I just dangle my legs in the water. Every now and then, Sharky glides over, nudges them, gentle as if he’s almost apologizing for the last time I was here. I don’t hold it against him. But I do hold it against Sky—that morning I woke up and realized what had happened between him and Yang. I don’t know which is worse: the ache in my core deeper than ocean trenches from that morning or the constant ache from not telling him why she surfaced.

  With those parallels sucking me under, I understand I can’t plunge into Sharky’s tank and use him as a coping mechanism. Not after everything that has changed.

  So, I say goodbye to Sharky and return to our quarters, past the empty couch because Neil and Lindy have returned to their condo by now. Past the twins’ room where all is silent. Into the bedroom, which is anything but. Sky’s pacing, his footsteps louder than ocean waves slapping against rocks.

  “Where have you been?” he asks even if his eyes don’t meet mine, even if they wear holes in the floor far more than his feet do.

  “This is the first night you’ve asked…” I softly reflect. Most nights on the weekend, I’ve come in after him thanks to Wylder and his endless games. I wander past him to the bed, sink onto the pillows…a watery bed. Closing my eyes, I nestle into the pillows, defiant at the prospect of facing him. All the times before I’ve avoided him. Always asleep before me. During the week, we’ve settled into a pattern with the twins dominating our time, keeping them awake as long as possible before we all crash. Easier to avoid conversations about our exhibit…and the interactions.

  It feels like stepping into a curtain of icy saltwater, stinging an open wound when I broach the edges of the subject. “How do you know it’s me?” I muse, turning my mouth upward into a half smile as I stare up.

  Sky approaches the bed. On the opposite side, hand hovering in the air as if debating whether to join me before he settles on an answer. “Because it’s not me you’re looking at.”

  I sigh, purse my lips, then twist my face toward him. His eyes are wreathed in desperation, corners creasing, brows dipping to soften his orbs. He leans over, touches the back of my hand, but I tremble from the action, shrinking. Deep inside me, I feel Yang stirring with the reminder of our bargain. You can have him, I remember telling her. In the Aquarium, they are better together. But I still…love him. And the aching bellies of my butterflies feel how much hurt has swollen between us. How it’s going to take extreme surgery to sew up the wounds bleeding from our hearts.

  When I turn away, Sky cups one side of my face and pleads, “Don’t go away…please. Ser.”

  I shudder, sensing Yang rising, and I inhale fast and deep because it’s taking all my strength to keep her down. I don’t want to feel these things. This much hurt, this much hatred between us. Before, it was just him taking the physical pain from my hand. Our hatred at pretending united us. And I could always lean on Sky. Even in the months I wore Yang’s skin in the Temple, he was always there waiting for me. For Serenity.

  “I’m not perfect, Ser.” He coaxes my face to his. “I fucked up royally. God knows what you must think of me.”

  Yang is a hurricane battering my rib cage, trying to flood my heart so she can take control because his words have triggered something else. The reminder it’s not just him. The real reason beneath why I chose to bring her out in the first place. She’s opened the back door of my mind, whispering the threats. Don’t do it. You know how he’ll react. Do you want to put your children in harm’s way?

  The hurt, the guilt at keeping this from him, is piling up. I’m treading water in it all, barely staying afloat. I’m so tired.

  Go rest, Serenity. I’m here, Yang counteroffers, but Sky presses his forehead to mine, apologizing again, pleading with me to stay.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, the hurt wells up in me more, the need to share this with him, for my husband to bear the load with me and not just Yang. I cough up the hurt, choke on it, gag on it. With just one thought, I can escape it all, hold my breath, and let her swim in it all. But instead…I spit it out, gasping, heaving, rocking back and forth as Sky touches my back, concerned.

  “Ser…”

  Then, he sinks beside me, arms becoming my anchor. He holds me like he always used to. Arms strong around my body, rocking with me, reminding me of a boat drifting with a gentle tide. It’s time to drop the anchor I’ve been carrying. Or allowing Yang to carry for me. It’s time to let Sky help. It’s time to…trust him.

  “It’s…not…just…you.” My voice is hoarse when I finally stop heaving. Each word I must pry out like opening an oyster. But no precious pearls inside for us. Nothing but sand, salt, and seaweed. “If it was just the performances, just the interactions…I was dealing with it all. But then…”

  Sky’s chin nudges my shoulder. I feel his breath, warm on the side of my neck, and I try not to remember Wylder’s breath or his grip on my hair, keeping my neck strained, arching back while he did his dirty work. This is my Sky. Not Skylar. I am not Yang. I am not Serenity. I am his Ser. We are here together. And we are alone. And. I. Am. Safe.

  “What he did to me—” I choke out the words.

  I sense Sky stiffen right before his nose rubs the side of my neck. He murmurs, “What?”.

  Tilting my head forward, I curl up even more than I already am, coiling my body like a spiral shell as much as possible so my toes are safe within the frame of Sky�
��s lap. “I never thought it would happen. Never believed.” Pausing, I feel Sky shudder behind me, taking in the context of my revelation. But I’m not finished. “And he said I deserved it because I wouldn’t respect his authority. And that I was…lucky because he chose me, because he wanted me above all the others.”

  Sky capsizes, bringing me with him, tightening his hold around me so we can drown in the hurt together. He doesn’t stiffen. He doesn’t fly off in a rage. He just buries his face in my shoulder, kisses the curve of my neck, and whispers, “Love you, Ser. Always us.”

  And finally…I can survive the hurt.

  After a few more moments of shaking and shuddering and shivering between us, we are ready for the storm. First, a tsunami erupts on his face. Charged, my body climbs onto his like high tide lapping up the shore. I meet him halfway, knowing what tonight is for. Not for butterflies and laughter and water ripples. Not for shadows and secrets whispered by firelight. Tonight is for lightning and thunder. Electricity and hard rock. Of my body crashing against his like thousands of whitecaps against an ancient mountain.

  In just a few seconds, we are naked midnight silhouettes. Steadfast, his chest rises to overlap mine, brushing before pressing when his breaths turn into pants. Our lips don’t touch. They engulf. Together, we crumble, chopped in half so we can regenerate, shaped into something new because we can never fit into our former molds. Our dynamic will never be the same, so there’s no use pretending. No use trying to force it.