The Garden

by Emily Shore

  “Good.” She continues with direct questions requiring a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. No open-ended ones. “Are you with the Family?”

  Another shock, deeper and longer this time when he refuses to answer. Sweat skims his chest, flirting with the skin there. More than ever, in this moment, I want to leave Luc behind. I want to grab Jade by the throat and squeeze until the only air that I’ll to come from her lungs is her begging me to let go so she’ll do whatever I want. Is Sky’s freedom worth the sacrifice of Luc’s life? The knowledge of Jade’s failsafe chills me. I remember Sky’s words: I can handle it. What if I can’t handle it?

  “Not with the Family,” Sky spits out just after another shockwave penetrates his system.

  The director begins to circle him, whip brushing his shoulder, fingers landing on a bandage. “Are you with…the Sanctuary?”

  When Jade closes her eyes, I realize she’s receiving information based on Sky’s brain scan. The results are not what she wants. A yelp flees my throat when she rips one of the bandages off his back, and I rush to cover my mouth. Fortunately, Sky’s hellish howl devours any sound I make as one of his wounds reopens, taking haggard patches of skin with it. Jade presses her hand against Sky’s back, her smile revealing her marvel at the bloody strip she’s just made. While Sky breathes windstorms through his nose, lips smothering any air from entering through them, Jade murmurs in his ear from behind.

  “So, you came to rob me of one of my precious Flowers. A gardener does not part with her blooms so easily. And men need their pollen just as my Flowers need to be pollinated.”

  In response, Sky arches his neck to counter her, “Yes, ignore the fact that men can be satisfied with just one woman.”

  “One woman?” Jade closes her eyes but raises her brows at the same time a chuckle slides from her lips. “Such an antiquated myth. Men are biologically predisposed to pollinate and to sow new seed wherever they go.”

  I watch as she draws her hand to his neck and presses down there.

  “Everyone has a fantasy they need tending. And that is what I offer in my Garden.”

  Sky keeps on the offensive, continuing the battle. “And this is your sick fantasy?”

  “No sicker than yours, Kyle. After all, that is your true desire, isn’t it?”

  He bristles, eyes narrowing and lip curling. “Go screw yourself.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  Jade triggers the remote, and Sky snarls, head arching so far it almost reaches the wall before his body swings forward again.

  “You Sanctuary men all have a hero complex. And you always latch onto one in particular. Your damsel in distress. Swooping in to save her, remove her blinders, and carry her away to some haven. Believing her tears will become your saving grace and her flesh your warmth every night. Isn’t that true?”

  Sky stares at her, eyes like thorns jutting when he pronounces, “No.” And he accepts the shock that reverberates down his body.

  “You’re lying.” Jade emphasizes the last word. “I would ask you which one, but it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  Jade turns slowly, inclining her face to mine. “I’m a master in the art of expressions, Skeleton Flower. And while his have required more effort to discern, yours have not—despite your attempts, I’m afraid.”

  If Jade can read the assault in my eyes, she doesn’t retreat when I march toward her. “What are you going to do?”

  “Calm down, my Flower,” she expresses with a grin crooking one side of her mouth. “I told you I haven’t caught such a specimen in years. And now, I look forward to the additional challenge. And perhaps…after you are deflowered, he will prove more receptive.”

  Just after her words, Sky strains at the chains, rattling them as he works, body thrusting from side to side, groaning all the while. It only lasts a couple of moments until Jade presses the remote and defeats him again.

  “All just a fantasy,” she murmurs while securing her robe around her shoulders. “Come with me, Flower.”

  Once Jade and I exit the Shed and she has closed the door, I stand there to ponder. If the device scans the brain and measures heart rhythm, am I just some fantasy of Sky’s that he’s nurtured all these years? No. The thought is insufferable. I banish it like I’m crushing a berry, but the juice still stains my fingertips, tempting me to drink their poison.

  “Alluring, isn’t it?” Jade inquires, noting how I am lost in thought. When I peer up at her with a blank expression, she clarifies, “When you come face to face with discovering you are a man’s ultimate fantasy. He is not the first. And more will take his place.”

  “And it’s your fantasy to fulfill each one?” I tip each of my words, turn them to fiery arrows.

  Jade shakes her head with a laugh. “Why, no, my Flower. I have already fulfilled my fantasy. And the closest I’ve come to reliving it is with that man in the Shed there. What about you, Serenity?”

  I turn around, start making my way down another garden path, the one that will lead me to the gazebo near the ocean at the barest edge of the Garden perimeter. “What about me?”

  “What is your fantasy, Flower?”

  To find my twin. And my parents. To cut a clean line through Force’s throat with his own whip. Even though I say nothing and continue to walk, Jade follows me, pressuring me in her silent but relentless way. She is a hunting hound that will not give up the chase. With no bark and all bite. For her, this is just another method of control, of unfolding the petals on her Flowers, shedding their secrets while offering none herself. All of her is a façade. Like she wears a fishnet veil over her face. One can get an impression but can never see her real eyes. One can never find the truth.

  I step onto a stone bridge overlooking the ocean, hearing the pulse of the electric barrier just beyond the stones. Not that any girl would be foolish enough to escape this way. Other than this Key, there is no land for miles, and Jade owns everything. This is as close to the waves as I can get. The gazebo itself is beautiful with ornate marble floors—a flower design in the center. A wrought-iron dome of diamonded gaps overlooks my head. A few wrought-iron bits are cracked and broken, making the structure incomplete but no less captivating, especially in the early morning light. Far to the east, the sun’s rays still manage to spear through the core of trees to swaddle the gazebo in its glow.

  “I’ve always loved this place,” Jade remarks, wandering toward the gazebo balcony where water rolls across the stone base. “I come here for solace when I can. It is quiet.”

  I lean on the railing beside her without bothering to conceal what I want to know. “How did you fulfill your fantasy?”

  “By accepting the power inside me.” She offers nothing else. Eyes revealing nothing like the white phantasms they are.

  Then, she turns, back nudging the railing and hand settling upon mine. “You have power, too, Serenity. Under my guidance, you will learn to nurture yours, to grab it while you can before a man robs you of the opportunity. Trust me, when that happens, it’s exceedingly difficult, though not impossible, to find that power. I would hate to see yours stolen before you ever have the chance to use it. I’m certain Luc would agree.”

  I shake my head, biting my teeth together before turning to the sea where my eyes can roam. “Luc isn’t my fantasy, Jade.”

  She leans closer, breath a fraction from my cheek as she murmurs in my ear, words soft as tulle, sweet as fondant. “I recognize your passion. It’s so familiar. I see the blind rage in your eyes, can detect the hot blood beneath your pale skin…” Her fingers on my arms are lighter than ribbons as she finishes, “Can sense the revenge in your lips. You don’t want to fall in love, my Skeleton Flower. Every man on earth would die for one taste of your love, but all you can give them is a storm.”

  I close my eyes, pinching them tight as Jade’s words dive far into me and tickle my butterflies, teasing every one of them. All they can do is bow their heads in response. Cower because she’s managed to travel down all the secret corridors I’ve tried so hard
to hide. Jade knows about Sky. Now, she knows about me. Her last action is to cup my shoulders before planting a soft kiss on the side of my head near my temple.

  She speaks to wound me. “Like me, you will never have the chance to indulge in your fantasy. I told you Force cannot be conquered.” Now, she knows the source.

  “He’s still flesh and blood.” I spin around, catapulting her fingers to the air and hissing, “He’s just a man!”

  “I’m afraid every generation or so, there are some men in the world who are more…than just men.”

  “So, you are afraid!” I harpoon her eyes with mine, but hers are more qualified.

  She denies the fear. “No, Serenity. It is a biological fact of nature. Force has no weaknesses. You will come to see that in time. Your fantasy will never be satisfied.”

  “My fantasy is just a means to an end,” I snap, then stapling my mouth shut, wishing I could take back the words because I’ve exposed too much.

  Jade surveys me. “To what end? Fantasies have no end. Yours only bleeds into a new one. And you must give it up. I can help you here, give you a new one. More than just a fantasy, I can give you purpose.”

  “What are you blathering on about, Jade?”

  Easing a sigh, Jade reaches up to fiddle with a few curls of my hair before declaring, “Soon. I will tell you soon. But the Garden will open for the day in an hour, and I must see that everything is in order. As usual, you are restricted to the quarters and grounds during business hours.

  “Trust me, my Flower…” The director cradles the sides of my face with her palms. “I have such high hopes for you. I found purpose beyond my tattered fantasy. The last thing I want is for you to lose yourself, and that is what will happen if you continue to feed false dreams. I refuse to give you false hope.”

  I stare up at her face, whiter than a powdered wig. Her spectral eyes promise everything but confess nothing. She touches her lips to mine. Light as foam on a wave crest. Not lustful in any fashion, but almost motherly. With that, she departs, leaving me alone in the gazebo. Or at least I believe I am alone.

  “Serenity…”

  I hear the familiar voice before she appears, her shoes making no sound on the marble floor as she sweeps toward me with a grace that is not a bird in flight like Nightingale’s. No, Magnolia’s grace is sharper—more feline. But it’s her words that capture me, that tether me to her.

  “I’ve been waiting to get you alone. I know Chrysanthemum attacked you last night. And I know why. Because I know who forced her.”

  14

  M o c K i n g B i r d

  I don’t waste any time. “Who was it, Magnolia?”

  The Flower/girl tiptoes toward me. As she approaches, I realize her eyes are closed. “We can’t speak here. Meet me after your exhibit tonight. By the subterranean pool.”

  “I will…but Magnolia?”

  At the urgency in my voice, Magnolia doesn’t move. With her eyes closed, between her head inclined to me and brows lifted, I would never suspect her blindness. “Were you listening to our conversation? Your mother and I?”

  “Yes, I heard everything. And she’s right. My mother may be young, but she is wise beyond her years. She’s endured much. Ever since she was a child.” Unlike Jade, Magnolia still does not move. She doesn’t wander, doesn’t let her hands touch what is around her. No, they remain at her sides, stiller than frozen tree stumps.

  On the contrary, my hands won’t stop. My frantic fingers play around with each other like miniature riptides roll beneath the skin. “How did Jade come to own this place?” I ask, threading my brows lower. Curiosity must breed in my pores.

  “She inherited it. I will see you tonight, Skeleton Flower. Please…be careful. And don’t trust anyone.”

  Does that include her? In the Aviary, I trusted too easily. Dove with her subtle paintbrush, sweet stories, and soothing words, Mockingbird with her frolicking attitude. Even Gull with her tragic nightmares I thought would be so simple to chase away. Yet, they always returned in the bruises on her skin. She couldn’t live without them. So, she died with water in her mouth and a knife in hers and her abuser’s chests. The water was her unhealthy coping mechanism, but it could never hurt me. My healing balm. More than ever, I despise Jade for not letting me swim, not letting me sink, unlike Luc. She also caged me. And Jade doesn’t need walls or electric fences or even a life debt. She just needs the truth. And she’s discovered it after just two days here. Why do I feel like I will be here much longer than that?

  I spend much of the day in my room. Try writing in the blank sketchbook I found in the old desk, but I’m too fidgety. Nothing like my mother’s enduring calm, her resolve and patience. It’s why she lasted so much longer than most girls in the Temple. It’s why she dove headfirst into the Unicorn. She knew how to suffocate Serafina. Not me. I can’t suffocate Serenity. Blood and storms inside me are comforting. Even if it means I can’t cope, I’d rather hold onto pieces of myself than become someone or something else to escape. I don’t blame others for doing it. In some ways, it will be harder with the Skeleton Flower. At least in the Swan Exhibit, I could find part of myself beneath the water. Here, I have to work harder, have to struggle and wear my identity closer than a flower bud—because it will slip right through my fingers if I let it go.

  I flick my head to the door faster than a jackrabbit when I hear the knock, and the voice is so welcoming. “Serenity?”

  Unlike Chrysanthemum, who I wager would’ve opened it without reservation, Nightingale waits for me. And I spread the door wide to give her full access before I peer into the hall, checking for anyone else. Confirming it’s clear, I hurry to close the door.

  Nightingale holds up her hand before I can try to embrace her. “You owe me an explanation.”

  Groaning, I roll my eyes but dispense with the pleasantries. “You were the one who said there was nothing I couldn’t do.”

  “So, you and Luc figured you would just run away to storm the Garden with no plan or support? Poor choice.” She clicks her tongue a couple of times before straying toward one of the windows, her black dress twirling behind her.

  “We had a plan, but Force wasn’t here.”

  “No, he’s been overseeing everything at the Aviary. Bringing in new blood, bleeding the old.” Nightingale draws one of the curtains, prohibiting daylight from skewering the room. “I was the first to volunteer for a Garden transfer.”

  “Did Mockingbird know?”

  “No. Obviously, she does now.”

  “Do you know anything?”

  “No, she told me nothing. She’s gone a little off the rails since the incident with her mother. I can’t begin to guess what’s spinning in that crazed little mind of hers. I can’t watch your back this time. I will be busier here than I ever was in the Aviary. And I have no allies…yet.”

  “Then, why would you come here?”

  “What happened to Luc?” Her own words, despite how they are a question, reveal everything.

  “Gale…” I touch her arm and ask, “Have you told him?”

  Nightingale shakes her head in rejection, denying. “It’s not like that,” she snaps while spreading her hands. “You know my story. You know what happened. I was a sick songbird slave to those men when Luc swept in and did what he does best. His assignment was to kill everyone. I know what kind of world I was in. I was prepared to eat a bullet. But he spared me and brought me to the Aviary instead. I owe him for that. I…respect him. Not everything is about love or passion, Serenity.”

  “Do you feel anything?”

  She shakes her head once. Direct. “No. Feelings make you weak, cloud your judgment. Except in your case, of course. They seem to serve you well, but you’re a rare breed. It’s why he adores you like he does. Don’t discount that.”

  “I don’t care about that right now. I can’t. Not with everything else.”

  “Tell me…” Taking me by the arm, she escorts me to the table by the window where we can sit and talk like we us
ed to in the Aviary.

  I tell her everything that has happened—from Luc’s inhibitor to Sky in the Shed to my exhibit and so called ‘client,’ to Chrysanthemum’s orchestrated attack, and Magnolia’s message. After I’ve finished, Nightingale folds her hands on the table. I give her a moment to contemplate because she’s better at forming an unbiased opinion in these situations. Unlike me.

  “Whoever your foe is, she reminds me of myself but on a deeper level. This has to be about more than just an exhibit. Something else underneath the surface.”

  “Like what?”

  Nightingale shrugs. All the shadows of the room seem drawn to her like she holds dusk somewhere in her body. Dark and lovely, she belongs to the night. So much different than me. Mornings are my glory.

  “I couldn’t say. Please try to watch out for yourself here. A little more than you do others this time.”

  I wish I could tell her I will, but between Sky, Luc, and Snow-er—Fawn, I can’t help but feel I’m even more tangled up in those around me than I ever was in the Aviary.

  “By the way…” Nightingale reminds me at the doorway. “I’m the Black Orchid now. And it’s time for me to prepare for my exhibit.”

  Just as Nightingale departs, I remember tonight is Fawn’s unveiling as Snowdrop. Her exhibit is a winter one like Nightingale’s. Except someone is preparing her right now because of how young she is. All the night exhibits will open in an hour. I don’t have long.

  Thanks to Jade’s influence, Fawn’s room is close to mine. As soon as I announce myself, the door opens. I swallow back any sort of surprise that it’s Luc who greets me. Or that Jade stands behind Fawn’s chair, placing a crown of small white flowers on her head. Luc touches the small of my back, but I rush forward, putting air between us and not bothering to ask him why he’s here.

  “Fawn…” I approach the little girl, but I stop dead in my tracks like my ghost escapes from my skin and attaches itself to Fawn’s face.