by Emily Shore
Tristan squeezes my shoulder, and I glance down, wincing just a little. Other than Sky and Wylder, it’s the first time another man has touched me. The first time I’ve allowed it. For the first time, I don’t sense Yang clawing at my mind, don’t feel her rising inside her cage. Instead, memories of Bubbles swirl like the pools we formed digging moats for our sand castles. Sand-tainted water.
Sometimes, the most potent experiences are the ones shared over a short amount of time. At most, I knew her only for a few weeks. But someone didn’t have to know Bubbles for long to love her. She was a moment suspended in time. A handful of bubbles, both precious and beautiful. Rainbow lights caught up inside her. But ones that popped far too soon.
After Tristan has departed, Sky and I return to our quarters where deja vu repeats itself. It feels like someone is hacking away at all my limbs. This time, Wylder brought security as well as a nursery worker. But one security member has already overpowered my brother and slapped electric cuffs onto him, which trigger a shocking pulse if he tries to resist. I don’t see Lindy anywhere, but if she’s hiding in the back room, I can’t say I blame her. Not with Wylder here. Like she said, she’s not a violent person. Lindy’s always been a creator, not a fighter.
Sky’s entire body tenses, the muscles in his jaw hardening with the force of an alpha wolf prepared to protect its pack. The veins in his temple throb, surfacing to visibility. Blue rivers ready to drown Wylder.
I should have known he would do this. Even now, I can see scores of fresh marks on his back. If he bothered with the CellGen room, it was on the quickest setting. Narrow smears of blood still cake the back of his fresh shirt. Haven punished him. After what happened, after what Yang did, she couldn’t care less how Wylder punishes me.
Gritting my teeth, I hurry to the door before the nursery worker can enter to take away our children.
“Ahh,” Wylder proclaims, eyes far more menacing than they were the first time we did this. “There they are. Our favorite storm-tossed couple.”
He could punish any other girl, but I happen to be his favorite.
I block his access to our room because he wants to do the dirty deed himself. “Not this time, Wylder.”
“Assistant Director Wylder,” he snarls, brows slaughtering his eyes. “You broke the rules again, Sea Star. I warned you what would happen.”
“What are you talking about?” I indulge Wylder, keep him talking because I notice what Sky is doing out of the corner of my eye. He’s positioning himself directly behind the guards.
“A while back, Haven implanted Bubbles with something a little extra. A memory chip that recorded everything Bubbles did since she came to the Aquarium. She covered her tracks pretty well, but as pleasurable as it was to watch the footage of the you two on her little dolphin retreat, it means I get to punish you. And we both know what your weakest spots are.” He gestures to his security.
He’s a fool! It only takes Sky seconds to land both guards unconscious on the floor before joining my side, curving his fingers and echoing, “She said… Not. This. Time.”
Wylder sighs, dropping his arms to his sides before touching his barcode interface, no doubt to summon more security. The nursery worker backs away, unsure of how to respond. One brutal glare from me convinces her to scurry down the hall, back to wherever she came from.
“I suppose we will have to do this the hard way,” Wylder announces, ready to tap into his network.
“Don’t think you want to be doing that, mate.” Neil starts laughing, his back pressed against the wall just outside our door.
Wylder pauses. “Why is the pipsqueak talking?”
“That pipsqueak is my brother,” I growl, but Sky does one better when he launches the side of his hand in a chop to Wylder’s throat, damaging his airway and causing him to wheeze while he clutches his throat, fingers panicking.
Sky shrugs. “He can’t talk for now.” I resist the urge to kiss him.
Wylder stares, dumbfounded. In his world, he’s never been questioned, never been disrespected to such a degree. Perhaps he’s never even felt an attack. Other than Haven’s whip and my self-defense of course. If he only knew the real reason behind our aggression and confidence. So tempting to tell him, but Neil has other things to say first.
I nod to my brother. “Go on, Neil.”
Sky deviates to the security guards on the floor, then digs around in their pockets for the key to the cuffs. Meanwhile, Neil’s face erupts with that knowing smile, the one that lured me in when I first met him in the Garden years ago. And Wylder continues wheezing, fingers on his throat but eyes on my brother.
Neil tosses his hair back as if sweeping a white sheet from a beautiful piece of art. And my brother is beautiful in that way. “You might want to check today’s top news story,” Neil suggests, winking.
Immediately, I tap into my interface and pull up the first news site since Wylder is otherwise indisposed. On his knees by now with the menancing figure of Sky hulking over him. The sprite-light headline reads: Nation Enraged over Aquarium’s Deep-Sea Secrets. And another: Shallow Grave for Haven and Wylder Graves. And one more: Sea Star and Family in Over their Heads: Syndicate Responds.
As Sky waves the electronic sensor card key over the cuffs to unlock them, Neil marches in a straight line to Wylder, yesterday’s violent reminder on his face already yellowing around his eye with new skin growing on his mouth. “You’re finished, Graves.”
That’s when I notice Lindy tiptoeing out from the bathroom, overhearing her husband’s words.
Wylder lifts his head, half-choking, half-wheezing, skeletal eyes preying on Neil. “How?” he manages to rasp.
“You fucked with the wrong family. In this case, a very well-connected family.” Neil stares him down before seizing Wylder’s collar and yanking him close to his face. “A well-connected uncle, brother, and husband.” He gives Wylder nothing else but one final head bash, followed by stomping on his privates. Wylder doubles over, crumpling to the floor and reminding me of a frightened sea anemone retreating when threatened. That’s when I realize why it seemed so strange Neil was so easily beaten the other day. He was waiting for this. And I chastise myself for every time I ever teased my brother for his “weakness”. He’s far from it. And he never deserved any of that from me or anyone else.
But when I turn around, ready for Lindy to emerge and rejoice alongside us, I see the door to our bedroom close behind her. Whatever Lindy wanted…it’s too late. I can only hope our family can heal the damage that’s been done to us. Together.
More headlines surface. More stories detailing the Aquarium stocks plummeting, masses retreating from the Museum, droves checking out of resorts and hotels and canceling tickets. Employees walking off the job. The transports will arrive within the hour, which can’t come sooner. Since the Syndicate branch is on the opposite side of the country, it will take them just a little longer to arrive with their full force and authority according to Tristan.
There is only one thing left to do.
I have no fear of Wylder anymore. After everything that’s happened, this is the least likely place he’d be. The only place Haven can take refuge, but when I enter, I’m almost surprised to see her sitting in her chair. Still and stoic. Not with multiple screens and media interviews trying to remedy the current scandal of events.
“Nothing lasts forever,” she proclaims, slurring her words. That’s when I realize she’s drunk. On the floor beside her are two bottles. Dry and naked as a de-scaled market fish.
“Giving up so easily?” I confront her, approaching.
“We don’t all have fighting spirits.” She rolls her eyes upon me, though I believe she meant to point them. I’m sure the liquor is causing her to see underwater. “I was trained to kill. Fighting was a means to an end. And…there’s nothing left to fight for.”
It must be a cruel twist of fate I am somehow able to empathize with the losses of killers and sadists. Apart from my father, of course. One by one, I list th
em in my head: Luc, Jade, and Haven…Mockingbird, Dove, Magnolia, and Queran. I cannot merely see what is on the surface without understanding how deep their stories were and how the dark waters of their past led them to the people they became. In a sink-or-swim world, those who do not drown either learn to swim with the current, tread water, or face the inevitable risk of drowning when trying to swim against it. Few manage to beat that current. I know what it feels like to swim against it, to swallow water, to feel it in my lungs.
I’m still pumping it out. But not on my own.
Haven has no one.
“It wasn’t just Bubbles,” Haven’s voice echoes just as I turn aside. “It was Yang.”
Pursing my lips, I turn my head to the side so she can observe my slight nod, my understanding that if Yang could beat her, it meant the Temple beat her. Yang dug Haven Graves’ grave. I’d apologize if I weren’t already trying to conquer that demoness myself. I understand better than anyone.
28
O n E L a S t G o O d B y e
* * *
Just a little more time before the Syndicate arrives to escort us back to the Temple. One last visit to make. Perhaps not a goodbye.
Spreading my hand along the glass of the tank, I murmur words to my friend. “Hey, boy.” I coddle my shark, grinning to one side when his tail swings forth a rippling wave toward me, enough to spill some water over the tank’s edge. “Things are changing and pretty fast. There will be a lot on my plate, but if I can, I’ll get you back with me soon.”
My mind teems with all the duties I will have once we return to the Temple, all the changes that will happen, all the changes that I will make happen. But there is one particularly important thing I don’t want to change. I can’t begin to guess what she will say when I ask her, but I hope Verity and Kerrie will have two other familiar faces as they grow.
The Commons is the quietest I’ve ever seen. Especially for a late morning. All the clubs are closed, of course, and the resorts seem more like cemeteries. The amusement and water parks have closed with mechanized and electric gates blocking access. Even the restaurants are deserted, and I see patios with plates of rotting food, critters and a few seagulls that have made their way to these levels feasting on the remains. The Aquarium has turned into an armless sea star. Never to grow limbs again. One giant empty conch. But I can still hear the ocean through the shell. Or the salty waterfall—the one achievement that still flows, the one technological advancement that still keeps the Aquarium running and not succumbed to absolute darkness.
What will happen to all the ocean life here? No doubt, environmental and activist groups will rise to protect the creatures and the reef. Or one will take over the Aquarium, buy its plummeting stock, and reopen it as a conservation center. A true aquarium. The notion is…nice.
While climbing the stairs above the Commons to the waterfall lookout, I realize there was one last goodbye I almost missed.
“Milo…” I sigh, pausing on the last step, dipping my head in apology that I forgot to tell the priest about our departure.
He holds up a hand from where both were folded along the railing overlooking the waterfall. “You’ve had a busy morning.”
“Why are you still here?” I glance around, waving at the forsaken atmosphere, confused he hasn’t returned to his Glass District Cathedral.
“I am leaving soon,” he responds, eyes on the waterfall, hand rising to the cross on his chest. “My unfinished business couldn’t wait.”
“Unfinished business?” Curious, I step up and touch the railing near him.
Milo smiles, then turns his body so he faces me. “I wish for you to know the truth, Serenity. You may not be strong enough to carry the burden of it, but I am. And so, I will take it from your shoulders.” His eyes remain alert, smile tender.
“Excuse me?”
I don’t move when he steps forward, raises the gold cross over his head, and drops it into my hands, closing my fingers over the cold metal. Then, Milo’s voice deepens to an octave I have never heard, but one that is too familiar. One that triggers. “Remember.”
Suddenly, she is there, snarling in the back of my mind, storming its walls like a whirlwind of energy, but I don’t release her. Even so, all the memories surface. Every single one. After I left Lindy and Neil to their grief, I was in the elevator. With Milo. Alone with hm. Other than Sky and Bubbles, Milo was the only other one who knew about Yang. I remember him placing the gold chain in my hand…just like this.
“But how?” I whisper because I don’t remember anything that happened beyond.
“All my life spent in the Cathedral doors. Alone by day. Surrounded by Breakables at night,” he explains, retreating to the side, but I’m thankful he doesn’t circle me as a predator would. “Countless tears in the confessional box. So many words spoken. And not once could I make their lives better even though I tried. They changed their minds so much. Too much. I did what they could not. I ended their shame.”
Girls disappearing from Glass Districts. Only some made it to the Sanctuary.
“Too beautiful.” Milo reaches out a hand to stroke my hair, but I shrink away, wanting to skitter away like a hermit crab. To dig myself into the sand and hide. “The world preys on beauty. I preserve it. They defile it. I purify it.”
“I never—”
“Your actions with her were shameful. Your choices have been shameful. I merely exploited Yang’s jealousy.”
The day Bubbles took me to the dolphins. Somehow, Milo saw us. As so many have blamed us throughout the centuries for what has been done to us.
“You couldn’t have persuaded her to do that,” I deny, knowing I should back away, knowing I should launch myself toward the stairs, but my body is an oyster clamped shut.
“Hypnosis requires years of practice,” Milo explains, staring off to the side for a moment before touching the gold cross in my open hand, sliding it back into his. “I’ve had years in those cathedrals. But Yang required something stronger. Your mind is stronger than you realize, Serenity.” It’s a half-compliment. “Fortunately, the Glass District has a market of drugs, including the mind-influencing kinds.” Milo clutches the cross, dangles the chain, swinging it back and forth.
“You never gave me anything?”
“No, I didn’t. But you were the one who chose the location and your…” He clears his throat, finishing his sentence. “Lack of dress.”
The steam room. Something he pumped into the supply. The one time water failed me. Or perhaps it’s failed me all this time. No wonder I felt the need to search the steam room that night. It was Milo’s suggestion on both times. The second time, he must have disabled whatever mind-altering drug, diffused it somehow.
Milo’s black robe reminds me of a marauder’s flag. An omen.
“I wish you were better than them,” Milo expresses, the chain slowing. “I expected you to be. You said it yourself—you just wanted it all to end. To be over. It turns out you are no different than any two-bit Breakable. Such a shame…” He sighs out the last word.
Yes, a shame that girls are born into a world that is determined to carve them out as Breakables. A world where they cannot even find safety in the echoing vaults of a cathedral and its colored glass.
A shame I somehow forced Haven to abduct my children. A shame I exploited myself to keep my children alive and my family together. A shame I defended myself. A shame I desired a friend in Bubbles and enjoyed some dolphin healing after what Wylder did to me. But like he said in the steam room, I’m not the only one. A shame the Family scoops up girls like Haven. A shame boys are raised to take anything they want, anyone they feel they deserve.
* * *
It just happens. The way the world is. Normal for us means we shouldn’t be expected to fight it. And we’re not allowed to suffer for it. Yes, I am just like a Breakable. Because we’re the same. We both breathe. We both bleed. We both hurt. And everyone—from Breakables to Museum girls to Centre breeders—manage to get up each day and survi
ve.
Not today.
I’m going to live.
The chain stops. When Milo steps toward me, I shove him back against the waterfall railing and leap like a dolphin for the steps. It’s only when I reach the halfway mark that something wraps around my ankle and sends me falling. Deja vu rears its head like a bottom feeder swimming out of the shadows. My Temple bedroom steps. The Garden grotto pool. The Aviary staircase. All the memories surface along with the pain. I am so tired of falling and crashing. Again and again.
Something cracked.
Even as I lie on the ground at the base of the steps, registering the gold chain around my ankle, I register that something cracked. It hurts to breathe. That familiar energy begins to swirl, but I can’t let Yang take over. If she meets Milo again, it will be all he needs to finish me.
The ends of his robe brush against my cheek as if marking me for a watery grave. Even as I plant my fist on the cement to try to stand, he dives for me. There is no buildup. No other ways to delay, no more words to speak. When I feel the chain loop around my neck like a cold water snake ready to squeeze, ready to strangle, my natural instinct is to struggle, to panic. It doesn’t matter how much Sky has taught me over the past two years. Nothing is rational. Everything is emotional, especially betrayal. My lungs begin to quake.
Milo whispers a “hush” in my ear, and I think of Haven. Yang pounds at the doorway. So much of me wants to let her free. But deep inside me, my lightning shifts. Like a sea star, it grows until it’s whole with the strength beyond all the seven seas—I am stronger than Yang.
And I don’t need to fight.
Instead, I go limp. Driftwood deadweight. The chain slips. I’m the anchor dropping and taking Milo with me. He loses his grip, and it’s enough for me to scramble away, coughing, ignoring the line burning the flesh along my throat. I don’t get far. This time, it’s not Milo who stops me. It’s Wylder.