The Garden

by Emily Shore

  When Jade opens the door to my exhibit, a stone greets me—a stone surrounded by water. A small wall prevents the water from leaving the exhibit. When I glance up, my eyes behold an entire lake. No trees, unlike Luc’s exhibit. This one cradles a stepping-stone path that loops from one end to the other in all four corner directions—northeast, southwest, northwest, southeast. An artificial fog curls in sultry wisps around my feet as I take my place on the first stone, inhaling deep and long while hoping the butterflies will stop shivering inside me. I try not to focus on the windows where Jade’s clients are watching. The Aviary had music, but I hear nothing but a low hum that sounds like some sort of engine running in the background.

  I focus on the stepping-stone path, bare foot daring to slip out from the dress to caress the next one. The train trails in the water, disappearing beneath the fog mask. For a moment, I consider dipping my toes into the water. Can’t tell how deep it is. Jade’s voice embarking from an overhead speaker prevents me from completing the task.

  “Diphylleia gray,” her voice says, announcing the botanical term as if she is a tour guide instructing an audience. “The Skeleton Flower. A remarkable flower that thrives in moist environments and the colder wooded mountainous regions of Japan and China. It blooms in late spring.”

  Did I just feel a water drop tumble onto my cheek?

  “The Skeleton Flower is known for its small white blossoms that exhibit a certain magic in the rain.”

  No mistaking it now. More drops nosedive from above my head, falling headlong into the lake, more than happy to unite with its watery cousins. By now, I’ve walked to the center of the exhibit—rooted myself along the stone there, palms curled slightly as I raise my head for the raindrops to raid my face, cheeks catching most. All along the surface of the water, they remind me of dropping diamonds, creating their own sort of music. As more and more raindrops engulf me, I close my eyes, hearing the conclusion of Jade’s description.

  “During light rain showers, this delicate bloom turns transparent like beautiful glass, thereby earning its appropriate name—Skeleton Flower. It is ghostlike in appearance but soft as a swan.” She chose that word on purpose. “With veins like lace and tragic petals reaching their hands to the sky, one would expect some lost fairy to have planted this flower. Please enjoy the remainder of the exhibit.”

  Lost fairy. That’s me. Lost from her home. Lost from the people she loves. If this is the only way I can get them back, then so be it.

  After an eternity of seconds, there is music, but it doesn’t help much.

  At least Luc left me a little dignity in the Swan exhibit. Jade does not. The rain is no downpour. It is a steady splatter, but at least it’s a warm one. Even so, each drop feels like a bit of glass cutting into my clothes. After a few moments, I turn to glass myself. Looking down, I notice my arms misting from the rain like my skin is crying from what I know will inevitably pass. After a few more moments, the simple white shift I wear clings to my body, moistened to expose every naked curve and outline to the audience.

  Jade has upped the stakes.

  Butterflies long to drown inside me. They want to hold their breaths and sink. But Jade won’t let me sink, I soon discover. Because when I step off one stone, my toes discover a soft surface no more than a foot deep. The fog grants the illusion the lake is deeper, but it isn’t. My action causes the train of the dress to bloom, to swirl behind me. Jade is right. I can’t become one with my exhibit. Instead, the exhibit strips me bare. Unlike the Swan exhibit, it doesn’t bewitch me—it possesses me. Without my precious water to escape to, I let it. I slide into the skin of the Skeleton Flower as its cold veins work their way upward, through my skin, into my blood. Sharp. Like dumping a summer fruit right into the snow. The Swan was subtle, slow, and sinuous. I could adopt her wings over time. Not the Skeleton Flower. She pricks me again and again, lapping up my blood.

  I remember what I must do. Here, I have to banish the real Serenity. She can’t swim here. But I struggle. The rain isn’t numbing enough. Instead, I feel the blush of my cheeks as my emotions catapult from the loss of every shred of my dignity.

  For once, I’m glad Sky is locked in the Shed so he can’t see me like this. That’s when I remember how Jade gave Luc exclusive access to my exhibits. With that knowledge swimming in my head, I first try to focus on pleasing Jade. But I’ll inevitably have to face every thought, every stunning realization.

  As my feet wade through water before I step up once again onto the pathway across the shallow lake, I keep my toes pointed on each dip, uncertain if I’m performing well or not. How much longer will this last? Melodic notes drift into one another as the raindrops drown me like a floating corpse.

  On the edges of the pathway, the glass walls are closer, closer than they ever were in the Swan exhibit. Men feast on me. Fewer than I thought there would be, but then, I realize some have chosen tinted windows, preferring to observe without affording me the opportunity of doing the same. Jade must have set the price sky high. The ones I can see are rich beyond compare, and they each reside in their separate boxes to examine me.

  When my eyes land on one sitting off to my right, I pause, curious. It isn’t the way he looks at me or smiles at me…or even the way he’s sitting with his back pressed against the chair, fingertips clapped together. No, it’s the way he looks that matters. Hair much darker than mine, not anything like Sky’s or Luc’s, skin so pale I would’ve believed it was grown in some crater. White as milkweed. And his lips form a smile upon my approach, but the upper lip with no cleavage and a hint more supple than the lower reminds me of something.

  Curiosity grows as I study his eyes. Wrong color. Too green, not blue enough, but the lips and his skin. When my fingers flutter across the glass in front of him, the young man doesn’t even move, just continues to study me with that familiar smile that houses secrets. How can I recognize that smile when I’ve never even seen his face?

  I finish, mimicking my previous action with each of the windows, daring myself to face the glass up close. They want a show, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned from the Swan, I can give them that. This is temporary; this is fleeting. They will walk away with more desire than ever. Fantasies will clot their minds, competing. Instead, I’ll go on, knowing I’ve won a piece of Jade’s trust—trust I will use to get us all out of here.

  “You’re not finished yet,” Jade warns me after the exhibit shuts down.

  “Excuse me?” Dubious, I narrow my brows when Jade takes me by the arm, leading me out of the back exhibit hallway.

  “You are better than I could’ve hoped. Your performance pleased the clients. Just as I anticipated, one has called for you.”

  Too surprised to acknowledge my success, I ask, “What do you mean?”

  “They pay an exorbitant fee to watch you, but if they want to meet you, the fee is higher. Come along,” she demands while dragging me around the outer hallway.

  “Like this?” I motion to my sodden dress, the transparent etchings of my body.

  “Just like that. We do not keep clients waiting.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I don’t care what you got away with in the Aviary. This is the Garden, and you are my Skeleton Flower. You will act like it.” Her grip on my arm strengthens.

  An exorbitant fee just to meet me? What does that mean? Does it mean I’ll have to—

  Jade pauses halfway down the hallway to cup my cheek. “Men will worship at your feet, Serenity. But if you don’t rule them, they will destroy you. You use what you have to gain advantage. From where I stand, you have much to use.” She brushes the cleavage between my breasts before opening the door handle just to her right.

  She doesn’t enter with me, but she does address the man whose back faces us from where he remains seated in the observation chair. Still dripping from the rain, I stand right in front of the entrance, not bothering to step forward, but I also don’t flinch when Jade closes the door behind me. By now, I’ve experienced
too much to flinch. Too used to the world of Museums to get caught off guard anymore. I don’t even hug my arms to cover myself. Just stand with fists braced. Ready for action. Ready to fight.

  “A pleasure to finally meet the Swan.”

  11

  N e I l

  The voice is young. Not rugged and deep like Sky’s and not the rich velvet of Luc’s. No, this one is smooth and light like champagne bubbles rippling to the surface of a clear glass.

  “Or should I say Skeleton Flower?”

  When he pivots around in the chair, I’m unsure whether I’m relieved or not to find the same face I observed from my exhibit—the first window I touched. Though I’m behind the glass now and not in front of it, I still can’t place him.

  “You’re shivering,” he notes without standing up from the chair. “Towels and a dry dress are waiting for you in the open cabinet.” He motions to the right side of the room to the open shelves.

  Still dubious but not enough to hesitate, I walk toward the cabinet while keeping my eyes on the man. He still doesn’t get up, but his eyes don’t stray from me, nor does his mouth quiver from the comfortable smile he’s adopted. I touch the towel, flick my gaze to his face. No change. Twisting the towel around my body first, I pick up a second and flip my hair to scrunch the cotton through the soppy ends.

  Without fingering the dress yet, I turn to address him while remaining against the cabinet. “Would you mind telling me what I’m doing here?”

  The young man is in the middle of sipping his wine. He sets it aside to respond. “Your first time with a client, I presume?”

  “You know that already. Why bother presuming?” I tug the towel tighter.

  “Touché. After all, virgin blood is not so simple to come by anymore. It’s why girls are plucked younger and younger these days. Did you know that, Swan?”

  I’m too aware. It didn’t take the government too long to lower the minimum age for sex work after legal brothels popped up all over the place. It took less time for pimps to create false id’s for children.

  Eyes lowering a little, I stiffen. “I’d prefer to stay on the topic at hand.”

  “Hmm…” The young man drums his fingers on his arm chair while studying me.

  “You paid for me to be here. Why?”

  “Trust me. I’m seriously enjoying your ignorance as to how this game works. It’s giving me a profound sense of curiosity. And I would like to know more.”

  I’m still confused, particularly since he remains in the chair with no signs of moving. To be caught in the same room with a client who seems to show little interest in my physical self is something I can’t fathom. If he made a move, I’d know how to react. I’d bite his finger off if he so much as tried to touch me. But he’s composed. Between his rich attire—a white jacket, open to reveal the casual black shirt beneath, the white pants, and his dark locks flirting with his jaw—he doesn’t read as Family material to me, apart from his controlled behavior. He reminds me of a chessboard. Like he already has the game predicted.

  The man tilts his head to me. “We can always begin with something simple. The name’s Neil. And I am extremely interested to learn the Swan’s true name.”

  I consider lying, using Trinity, but I know it won’t take much for Neil to learn my true name from Jade if he wants. Perhaps he already knows and wants to hear it from my lips. Whatever the case, my curiosity is far more abundant than his. Kindled to such a degree I’m prepared to grant him a finger length of trust—for now.

  “Serenity.”

  “Very fitting.”

  “For the Swan, yes. Not for me.”

  Neil retrieves his glass again, raises it to the air, and swirls the liquid. “A force to be reckoned with, then? Is that who you are after you’ve shed the Skeleton Flower and the Swan?”

  “Maybe. Why do you want to know?”

  “Because you are more than your skin, Serenity. Any man may possess your skin or your body. He may take it for himself at any time for the right price. But the price of your soul is far more…expensive. So expensive in fact that it cannot be bought. It can only be given.”

  “My soul is not open to applications,” I warn, shifting my weight forward.

  Neil still does not stand. “Oh, but you have yet to see mine, Serenity. Or my resume for that matter.” He plays with the words, enjoying this too much. “Our time today is drifting to a close, but I will leave you with something to whet your curiosity regarding my application. It comes with one great benefit—you may keep your body to yourself in a manner of speaking.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll explain more in our next meeting. I look forward to getting to know you because I believe you are exactly what I need.”

  When Jade opens the door, Neil rises from his chair for the first time and nods to thank me. I still ponder his statement. Confused by the brief encounter, I want to speak with Sky more than ever, but I doubt I’ll get the opportunity any time soon.

  I’m even more confused by Jade when she shoves me up against the wall in the hallway, nails digging into my neck. She’s seething. “You stupid, stupid girl! You have all the weapons you need, and you used none of them!”

  I thrash against her for a moment before dropping the towel so my hands are free. “If I wanted to use my body as a weapon, I would’ve done this!” I knock her back, spit flinging from my mouth at the same time.

  Jade raises her baton in the next moment, brandishes the threat. “You’ve disappointed me, Serenity. He would have bowed to you, but you did nothing. You hid when you should have bridled him.”

  “He offered me the towel. He isn’t interested in being bridled,” I inform her just before stooping to pick up the towel.

  Jade plants her shoe on it, causing me to tug at the fabric. “He is extremely interested, you thick-witted infant. I monitor each room. I may not hear what is said, but I know you never once considered using what was naturally given to you. Next time, don’t waste your body.”

  Discarding my vain effort to retrieve the towel, I stand to counter her instead, placing my hands on my hips. “I’m not wasting it. I’m saving it.”

  “There is no such thing in this world. Anything worth saving is always used up first. I’m giving you a golden opportunity to reap your own benefits, to exploit them before they can walk all over you. Rest assured, men will always find new ways to walk all over you. It’s the nature of the beast. Don’t for one second believe Luc is any different.”

  Sky is, Sky is different. I want to refute her claim, but instead, I focus on the subject. “He wants another meeting. And I want to know who he is.”

  At my announcement, Jade straightens a little before plucking up the towel to hand it to me. “Neil is…well connected.”

  When Jade begins to walk, I follow. Once inside the elevator, I pose the question, “Family connected?”

  “Syndicate connected.”

  So…the Temple, which means Force. I consider the prospect, wondering if Jade might not be my only opportunity out of here, especially since Neil alluded to having no interest in my body. But what can he possibly be after? If our meetings are so short, how will I ever learn anything?

  “He outbid all the other candidates, even international ones, because he wanted to secure a private interlude. I was under a different impression, but after what you said, I have other suspicions…”

  Jade stops the elevator on the third floor, and I realize she’s returning to her chambers.

  “What sort of suspicions?” I question, still following her.

  “Suspicions I will do my ultimate best to avoid,” she announces once she reaches her door. “You will return to your room now. The Garden is closed for the remainder of the night unless a client has reserved a suite.”

  Before I can object, Jade draws a finger to her ear, lower her brows, and then smiles, the crook of her mouth growing on one side like a slow-creeping vine. “Well, I suppose a director never sleeps. I didn’t expect our new
transfers to arrive so quickly. You should return to your room and get dressed. You will want to meet them.”

  Considering how fast I can get dressed, I am only a few minutes behind Jade when I arrive in the lobby to meet the new Flowers. A few other girls are there, but most haven’t interrupted their slumber. Either that or they are with clients. Magnolia, of course, joins her mother’s side as a limousine drives around the manmade courtyard lake and pulls up to the Garden entrance while an eager Chrysanthemum stands next to me, hands cupped around each other as she tries to peer around the door to see the newcomers.

  The first person to embark out of the limousine is a recruiter dressed in a black suit. He greets Jade midway on the grand stone stairway leading up to the lobby entrance. From here, I can’t make out all their words due to the wind, but I pick up on a few—the key one being Aviary. Stunned, I watch the girls step out of the limousine. How could I have assumed it would be anyone different? Too naïve to believe the transfers would be Pigeon or Cardinal or Hummingbird. Gale isn’t so much a surprise. After all, she’s still under contract to the Aviary. When we left Luc’s retreat, she undoubtedly returned to the Museum. It seems Force is cleansing old blood out of the Aviary—anyone who has too-close ties to the former director, though he doesn’t know about Luc’s presence at the Garden.

  When Mockingbird follows Nightingale, I fight the urge to touch the skin on my chest, which remembers her blade. Jade makes no such introductions today. Unlike Luc, she doesn’t create a spectacle out of anyone. Equality means control.

  “All right, Flowers…you’ve seen our new initiates. Now, off to bed with you,” Jade instructs us. “The weekend is not over yet.”

  As Chrysanthemum and others file down the hallways, I linger, noticing Jade seems more interested in Nightingale than the others. She links her arm around the young woman, regaling her with all the grandeur of the Garden. I miss the opportunity to speak with my friend, but that will have to come later. However, Mockingbird doesn’t bother to hide from me when she swings her head toward me quicker than a swirling dervish and nears me to whisper.