The Garden

by Emily Shore

  “Once I learned your client had selected an entire evening…”

  I back up against the shower wall. “You have to stop this. No good can come of it. You can’t do anything.”

  Luc’s dangerous eyes flick to mine, those brows so low they screw his eyes to pinprick-height slits. “You ran from me the last time, Serenity. I can control it.”

  “No, you can’t,” I deny, my voice soaring to a higher octave, and that’s when Neil opens the door.

  “Heard voices.” Shrugging, he holds the door open, nods at Luc. “Director Aldaine.”

  “Former Director,” Luc practically spits.

  This is all too much! I take a clump of my hair. Pull tight just to feel my scalp moan. As I do, I watch Luc march right up to Neil until he stands a fraction of an inch away from his face. It would register as awkward, considering Neil has a good three inches or so on Luc, but Luc’s stance is far more lethal than Neil’s relaxed posture. As are Luc’s eyes, which are narrowed to the deadly nicks I’ve come to memorize.

  “If I didn’t have this damn muzzle under my skin, you’d be staring up at me from the flat of your back, begging for mercy just before I crushed your neck with my boot.”

  “Well, then…” Neil pats Luc’s shoulder, taps twice before raising a finger to add, “Guess it’s a good thing for me that you have an inhibitor.”

  Neil isn’t intimidated, but nor does he feel the need to threaten in return. It shouldn’t surprise me, but I’m far too used to Luc and Sky’s methods. Sky would’ve said nothing. He would’ve just attacked, probably barreled forward, usurping those delicious muscles. Right now, he’s the only man I want close. He couldn’t be farther away.

  “I know who you really are under that guise of false charm you’ve adopted,” Luc baits him.

  Neil adjusts his shirt, tugging at the hem. “Just a simple businessman, Aldaine.”

  “Yes, I’m certain your unrivaled success as a graphicker has helped a great deal with your business.” A graphicker. Neil is a graphicker?

  Dazed, I blink once, notice Neil nod to me. “Serenity?”

  “You don’t even have the right to say her name,” Luc growls.

  I feel every single thread snap inside me. Whatever roots my rage to my stomach lining is severed, and now, it runs amuck. I feel like I’m going to vomit. Noticing my reaction, Luc curses under his breath.

  “Serenity…” Neil speaks again, approaching me where I still stand with my back to the shower wall. I feel cornered. And Luc doesn’t warn him. I can imagine Sky coming up with some clever, sarcastic remark about me ready to explode, but Luc remains where he is, savoring the moment when Neil touches my shoulder. I gaze down at his fingers for one moment before sinking my teeth into the back of his hand.

  “What the hell?”

  Snatching his hand away, he shakes it out before sucking the prick of blood. Another moment, and he tilts his head to the side to scrutinize me, brows tapering low, registering puzzlement at first, which is quickly followed by understanding. He reclines against the bathroom wall, pronounces, “She looks just like Force right now.”

  At the mention of my father’s name, I lunge for them both, almost losing my towel in the process. “Get out!” I point to the door. “Both of you, get out!”

  Resigned with no other option, Luc follows my order, though Neil lingers in the bedroom, reminding me, “I have you for the entire night.”

  “Book it for tomorrow!” I don’t stop my advance toward him, and he leaps away when I bare my teeth and hiss, “Out!”

  Luc has seen me like this once. The night I scratched him etched in my memory. Can almost feel the flesh lodged beneath my fingernails.

  “To think you could handle her,” Luc sniggers just before I grab the door’s edge with both men standing just outside in the hall.

  “You’ve never handled me either, Luc. Never forget that!” I slam the door in his face, spin around, and collapse to the floor.

  “Now, you have two men all tangled up with you,” the familiar voice echoes from the opposite side of the dark room, somewhere near the window. “I’m almost jealous.”

  “Why are you here, Magnolia?”

  “I was here when you and Mr. Bloode entered, even before Luc stole inside. Mother sent me to clean off the body paint while she went to visit her pet.”

  I suppose it’s a good thing Forget-Me-Not’s distraction earlier prevented me from visiting Sky. Jade may have caught me there.

  “Would you like the body paint off so you can sleep?” Magnolia asks.

  I nod. Whether it’s due to her blindness or her serene manner, I can’t tell. Perhaps a combination. Either way, I drop the towel and follow her direction to sit in the chair before the vanity where a bottle of ointment remover rests. She starts with my back and takes her time, rinsing the cloth in the bowl of water she brought. Water turns white after a minute or so, but she continues scrubbing away the paint, hands subtle without lingering on any patch of skin unlike Jade when she inspected for flaws.

  When I wince after she moves the cloth to my chest, Magnolia asks, “Am I pressing too hard?”

  “No.” I shake my head and expel a sigh, remembering that night Mockingbird sliced me. Anyone who touches my chest now… “My implant healed the scars, but I still remember them.”

  “Scars?”

  “From a knife back when I was in the Aviary. I was attacked.” I don’t mention by who.

  “Jealousy?”

  I nod, remembering she can’t see that. “Yes.”

  “It is common in Museums. The level of competition. It still exists here despite my mother’s efforts to eliminate it. Gossip is a disease, and Flowers squabble over who has a bigger bee. I’m still surprised you haven’t yet opened your petals.”

  She dips the cloth in the water, pours more ointment on it, then directs me to stand so she can rub it against the back of my thighs.

  “I have no intention of opening my petals to anyone right now.”

  “Right now… Does that mean you have someone in mind?” Magnolia pauses, waiting for me to reply, but I say nothing. Silence festers like a fresh wound in the air.

  “Why do you want to know?” I ask when the cloth strays to my knee.

  “I want to know what it feels like. I can’t understand it.”

  “What?”

  Magnolia voices her reflections. “How do you let yourself feel too much? It’s like your body is a cage. You won’t let your mind float away.”

  “I can’t function without them. They remind me that I’m real. That I’m still here.”

  “Even if it’s easier to become someone else?” she argues, voice more persistent than it should be. Is this Magnolia’s coping mechanism? Convincing herself she has control by becoming the flower? Like so many others?

  Magnolia reaches my feet, kneels before me when I proclaim, “Not without giving up my identity. That’s the only true choice I have. Anything else is just…survival. And I don’t want to survive. I want to live.”

  “You’re finished,” Magnolia announces before fetching a silk robe, which she drapes around my shoulders. I don’t hesitate to sink my arms into the sleeves and tie the strings. “Sometimes, you can’t help but detach. The mind is formidable.”

  So is the body. I think of Luc. I think of that day spent in the ocean. I think of his mouth plunging onto mine, luring his lullaby right into my heart. I think of that night in my last exhibit, think of his hands like chains summoning my face upward with his leg roping mine, rooting me to him. I think of the night he tasted the real Serenity. Right before I lunged for the water.

  And I remember Sky watching me every night.

  “How long do you think you can hold out?” Magnolia inquires as I wander toward the bed.

  I can’t help but smile, just a curling of the lips on one corner of my mouth. My spirit is a steadfast sea serpent born somewhere in the ancient depths. With all the might to turn ships to underwater wreckages and drag sailors right down to
its belly.

  “What if it’s taken from you? Your choice?”

  I flick my head toward her, gaze into her ghostly eyes, see nothing but silver armor. “Then, God help the man who tries.”

  “Sometimes…” Magnolia’s tongue draws a line around her upper lip and then her lower one, and I watch how the silver armor shatters for just one moment as she finishes, “…they want the fight. They enjoy it more. So, shutting down is the only choice you can make. The only control you have.”

  And Magnolia retreats. Back to her armor. Back to her secrets. Leaves me alone in the dark to ponder everything she asked—and revealed.

  19

  C h o C o l a t e C o s M o s

  In the morning, Jade draws the curtains wide open so sunlight floods my room like bursting golden cherries. I burrow deeper beneath the covers to avoid the impeding glow. Just before I do, I catch a glance of Jade wincing, and I remember her albinism. Weakened eyesight. Why does she try so hard? I know Magnolia never lifts her head to the sun when she’s outside. She keeps her eyes closed every time. I know she rarely embarks outside during the day but spends many nights wandering the Garden grounds like some lost white soul. So, why does Jade pressure herself? She always turns back to the sun when it must be like a red-hot poker needling her albino irises.

  She rips the covers from the bed, takes the robe’s strings in her hand, and yanks me out, but I end up on the floor.

  “Get up,” Jade commands as I rub my rump from where I’ve landed. “You’ve slept too long in your self-pity. Time for you to taste your first sample of my world instead of just watching from a safe distance.”

  Grumbling under my breath, I plant one hand on the bed and rise to a stand, but I’m still a few inches shorter than her. “What are you talking about, Jade?”

  “Put this on under your robe and meet me in the Shed. You will have more than a demonstration today.” Jade pushes past me, departing before I can say anything else.

  Rubbing the sleep from my eyes until they clear, I stare down at the lacy concoction in my hand. Once I try it on, I realize it’s a short dress but with only patches of swirled black fabric designs with lace betraying skin. Off the shoulder straps, a sinking bustline, and a hem that ends at my thighs in the front but boasts of a black train like a river of spilled ink. First, I reflect on the ensemble in the vanity mirror, debating on whether to follow Jade’s direction.

  Something in her command makes me believe this isn’t up for debate. And if she’s returning to Sky every night again, then I will have little opportunity to see him. Even if I have a nagging suspicion of her plans—an inkling at the least—I can still refuse to consent when I arrive. Just to see Sky is enough. No matter what Jade does, I won’t let her roots sink their flytrap teeth into me. She’s already swallowed my dignity. My willpower will be the last thing she will take.

  So, I follow the path to the Shed. The grounds are mostly empty, but that’s no surprise. At this time, most of the Flowers are occupied with all-nighter clients, finishing their sessions. All floating along the fantasies in their clients’ eyes whether playing mermaid on the ocean shore or Flower in the bedroom.

  “Time for your first lesson,” Jade announces upon my entry. “Consider this practice for Luc Aldaine.”

  I don’t stride forward from the doorway. Crumpled into a ball near the corner of the Shed are Sky’s pants. Jade has blindfolded him, plugged his ears once again, and left him with nothing but his drawers. As soon as I step forward, I notice his arm muscles flex, arms that are lynched above his head, held fast by chains. Sky’s nostrils flare; he can smell me.

  Jade approaches him from the side, then trails the tips of her nails across his cheek. He flinches but doesn’t recoil when she tells me, “Our interrogation last night was very enlightening. Kyle’s been a rather busy boy. Spent years helping girls into the Sanctuary without ever wanting anything in return…until the night he saw your Swan exhibit.”

  Jade produces a flogger, draws its edge across his neck, and continues, “He’s quite obsessed with you. But it’s time for you to relieve him of his burden. Take control of him today. And take control of yourself.”

  The director walks to me, no hesitance in her stride. “Understand the natural power you have lodged deep inside of you. Every woman has power over a man. Some wield more than others. Even if Force cannot be dominated physically, your mother always held a certain power over him. No one can ever satisfy him the way Serafina did…the way she does.”

  When Jade places the flogger in my hands, I consider using it against her for daring to speak my mother’s name. But each one of Jade’s words is a thorny briar carving a path through my skin, tangling around me, squeezing, drawing blood.

  “Make him rely on you as he does me. Assume control. Assume the burden and every drop of stress. Reach into his core and watch how he savors the pain because only through pain can pleasure be gained. Memorize his reaction, and you will understand his core. Break. Him. Down.”

  Jade removes the plugs from his ears, then the blindfold. His eyes land on me, taking in my costume, the whip in my hand. Jade straightens, waiting for me to approach him. And I do, but…how could I ever hurt him? Everything in me wants to bend into the haven of his chest, feel his arms warm my blood like he always does. So close now.

  From this distance, only I can hear Sky’s whisper. My body acts as a barrier. “Do it.”

  “No,” I breathe out. It haunts the air between us, screaming louder than a banshee.

  He whispers low enough so she can’t hear. “Damn it, Serenity. Do it!”

  I cup his neck, mimicking Jade’s action, buying time with what little currency I have in my possession. “Why?” I murmur.

  “Don’t let her know about us,” he practically seethes.

  And then, Jade sways toward me, places her hand on top of mine, and guides it. “Like this. Feel the force of the flogger as you snap it against his skin.”

  Sky takes the blow, clenches just a little because I don’t use as much power as Jade. The first couple of strikes don’t draw blood, don’t slice the skin whatsoever. And I keep pausing, waiting for her hand’s direction.

  “You’re not trying, Skeleton Flower,” Jade reflects, murmuring her nectar into my ear. “Don’t just be the fantasy inside his head. Feel the intimacy of this moment. Savor the physical sensation you are giving him, the body’s natural drugs that only you can release. The pain will drive him higher. And he will follow your every whim. He will push his limits just to please you.”

  When I snap the flogger this time, it does break the skin on his chest. Jade approves. “An adequate attempt,” she approves, stepping back, leaving iced air in her wake.

  Just one skin-starved line perpendicular to his heart. I bite hard on my lip, wanting to taste my own blood as much as I’m taking his. I snap the whip again. A third time. And then again until Sky’s fists turn whiter than my skin. Can’t help but memorize his facial expressions—the way his lips thin, the way his proud jaw clenches, the way the sweat droplets dribble down the sides of his face like moonstones. In this moment, he’s so utterly beautiful, and I feel like swallowing grit for thinking that way.

  Because this isn’t human. This is inhumane.

  When he shifts, thrusting his body so far forward it nudges mine, flecking the dress I wear with blood, I throw the flogger to the ground and turn, fleeing the Shed with Jade’s grin imprinted in my memory. Inside, the stale air is more ooze. My lungs drown in it. Can’t breathe until I’ve slammed the door behind me. Hands shaking, fingers trembling, I tumble down with my back to the Shed, arms cradling my face and knees curling to my chest.

  She is so quiet I don’t even hear the Shed door open, and I flinch when her hand touches mine. “It’s normal to feel overwhelmed, Flower. Your first time is always overwhelming. In time, you will learn more. You will harness that power, learn how to wear it like a crown. You will feel the intimacy of each deeply spiritual moment.”

  With Jad
e, it feels like half my body is lodged in the ground—legs all tangled up in earth and rocks and tree roots. As I try to escape, thrusting my upper half forward, I move nowhere. When she kisses the top of my head, I almost envision her lips singeing the hair right off my scalp, but it isn’t just Jade. The burn comes from somewhere inside me. Hotter than black pudding, it bubbles up in my stomach, chars the butterflies to ash before branching out into my organs and finally my blood.

  Jade retreats to the Shed to heal Sky, leaving me just in time for the burn to reach my skin. No choice but to get up, I make a beeline for the closest water source—the pool house. Ignoring the sign on the outside, I jerk the door open and dive right into the deep end, calming the lightning inside me, driving it down, down, down to cavernous vacuums where it can’t strike. But I’ll never forget the power I just felt. The force of each whip crack, the way Sky gritted his teeth, the way his eyes melted like a melody ripped of its chords so I could see its foundation—what it’s really made of. For the first time, I could read the massive manuscript that is Sky. I knew his strengths and weaknesses, knew how much he could take. I stripped him of his autonomy. Carried the burden. Sucked the control.

  And more than ever before, I’ve kindled the sadism in my soul.

  I am becoming my father.

  “Is it my birthday?”

  The deep baritone of the man off to my left provides a sudden distraction, and I flick my head to the side. He looks to be in his forties with close-cropped hair—Family style—standing in the shallows with Chrysanthemum in her full client costume. She’s sprawled out on the shallow end of the marble steps. The man angles his head to the side and surveys me, but Chrysanthemum braces her hands just a little on the marble behind her with her chest rising to address me.

  “Skeleton Flower,” she says, using my Garden name. Suspicious eyes pinched, she points to the door and informs me, “The pool is reserved this morning.”