by Emily Shore
I drop the shard of glass.
I don’t expect him to reach out, to grab me by the arm. Nor does he expect me to slip out of my robe and leave it—and my anger—behind with him while the rest of me runs back to Gull.
When I enter my bedroom, Gull is stirring.
“Time to wake up, sleepyhead.” I nudge her.
She stretches her arms, rubs one of her eyes, and then seems to register everything that happened the night before. Then, to my surprise, Luc swings open the bedroom door.
Gull shrinks into my arms, her body crumpling in shame. I keep one hand tight around her, sheltering and safeguarding her. At first, Luc’s eyes are dark like thunderheads, but when he stops and really looks at the gray-haired girl whimpering in my arms, his eyes swell—wider than I’ve ever seen them before.
He steps forward, approaches slower. “Gull.” If anyone’s voice can turn from ice to lace, it’s Luc’s. “Please don’t be afraid of me. May I see?”
I push her just a little, and Luc takes the sleeve of her shoulder to pull aside the fabric. When he sees the bruises gaping back at him, he winces, flicks his eyes to me, and regards me with brows knit low.
I keep my head high, eyes stinging him.
He turns back to Gull. “Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you use the panic button?”
Gull swallows. “He threatened me. And I didn’t want to end up like Flamingo or Finch. People outside have heard the rumors, and he said the same would happen to me if I told.”
“Listen to me.” Luc eases a finger beneath her chin. “I will not lose another one of my Birds. Do you believe that? Do you trust me?”
Gull glances back at me, eyes gray like windswept water, and when she sees my convinced nod, she turns back to Luc and mimics the motion.
“Good.” Luc takes her thin frame into his arms. “Come with me now. I will take care of this. I will take care of you.”
I watch them walk away, believing him whole-heartedly. Until Gull is missing from her room that evening and I learn she’s being prepared for her exhibit.
25
R e t r i B u t i o n
All the girls in the Aviary are called to watch Gull’s exhibit that night—an occurrence I’ve only ever been witness to once before, for my exhibit.
To protect the Swan’s anonymity amongst the crowd, Dove gives me a white mask to wear that night. With no feathers, gems, or decorations, the mask won’t draw attention while I remain on the second level where I can see everything from the holograph since only higher-ranking levels have sprite-light screens.
Gull is more magnificent in her meager body than ever before. A gray pigment paints her skin, a color that reminds me of rotten roses, dried and sapped just like she is.
Gull isn’t supposed to be here. Not after what Luc saw. Why is she here with her hair gray as fog skirting the floor from the new extensions she wears? Artisans have stuck gull feathers in her hair. Netting is draped across her entire body as though she’s a fish caught by sailors. Gray pearls decorate the rest of her skin—save the two gray oyster shells, no bigger than my fists, cupping her small breasts. With her arms positioned to reach for the glass, she looks like a siren rising from the ocean. Face haunted, heartbroken.
Gull receives more claims tonight than ever before.
Sickened by the rolling of the men’s tongues along their lips as their eyes seek the flesh I cuddled alongside just hours earlier, I finally march down the stairs after most of the viewers have gone and confront Luc, who is addressing Gull’s claimer. I don’t rip off the mask. Instead, I let my eyes penetrate his with my disapproval.
The claimer briefly glances at me when I approach, but Luc dismisses him before I speak from behind the mask. “What the hell are you doing to her?” I hiss.
“My words won’t be enough. I can only show you. After tonight, I hope you will trust me.”
“There is only one person I will ever trust. And you can be sure that it’s not you. After tonight, it will never be you.”
I storm away, but Luc doesn’t pursue me. His duty to his Aviary will always come first, but I can’t stand by and watch. Instead, I return to my room to stare at the fish shimmying about their tank, wishing I could join their world for one moment. I’ve let my fickle heart conquer me again. I sucked down Luc’s poison.
Hearing movement, I look behind me to see Dove picking up the mask I’d left in the entry hall. “The exhibit is over,” she says. “An offer was accepted.”
Indifferent, numb, I wander away from the tank and scoot onto the ledge. “I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do. I saw you leave the exhibit hall after you spoke to him. Sometimes,” Dove says, sitting on the bench across from me, “Owl is a puzzlement.”
“No, he’s not.” Shaking my head, I meet her gaze.
“You’re curious about him, though, I can see it when you look at him. You have been from the moment you arrived. He confounds you, but he makes you feel whole at the same time.”
“How do you know?”
“My gift is not only painting; it’s also perception. Perhaps it will be a consolation to you if the Temple wins your auction. Then, you’ll never see him again.”
I can tell she’s trying to sound casual, but I’m not buying it. Perplexed, I screw my brows together. “What do you know, Dove?”
“Director Aldaine met with his father in the wee hours of the morning. I don’t know what they discussed, but I’m certain it had something to do with you.”
Because she knows nothing about our bargain. At least Luc kept his word. I hope he was securing my parents’ release at that meeting. No doubt convincing his father to keep the Swan here. With him. No auction will happen now.
I consider what my life would be like once I begin seeing clients. I’ll have an Intimacy Room segregated from the routine client rooms. When I try to think of what it will feel like to share a bed for the first time, even with Luc, I cannot. Perhaps it’s better to become a ghost, to fade into the background, to save my soul by sending it away.
“I guess I’ll start seeing clients soon,” I say.
“I’m certain they will preserve you as long as possible,” Dove says. Her words are comforting. “They will show you to the world first.” Luc will be the first client.
I want Sky to get me out. I want to break my word, my bargain with Luc. If we confirm my parents’ release, maybe Sky could get me out before anything happens between Luc and me. If I can get outside these walls, Luc will become a memory. My word is not worth more than my dignity. We can all escape together, and things will be just like they were. Well…almost. I smile as I consider the prospect with Sky, but…give it some time.
“What if I don’t go to the Temple? What if I stay here?”
Dove touches her fingertips to my curls. “It would please me. I have never painted on such a beautiful canvas before. I’m certain Owl hasn’t either.”
I nestle my chin onto my knees, tilt my head to the side.
The corners of Dove’s lips curve into a smile. “I hadn’t suspected it would happen so fast, but this place does break one down, doesn’t it?” She pauses, but then muses, “You formed bonds here, attachments, assets just as I explained the first day. I thought it would be more difficult for you. I knew of Blackbird, but I wasn’t aware of Gull until tonight. Everyone else respected your love for Finch. Who else? Certainly not Peacock. And I wouldn’t suspect Nightingale. Mockingbird, perhaps?”
I shrug, thinking of the flighty girl who has shared my lunches, but who also twitters about the museum with no regard to anything beyond these walls; the one who knows all the secrets inside each glass hallway, but who chirps them just as effortlessly. She would’ve loved to unfurl herself for Luc that night she followed him.
“Mockingbird is just a twit, really. She just tries too hard to get attention.” My stomach twists at the memory of seeing her with Luc, removing her clothes for him.
She’s attached herself to me, Luc had said.
/> “I see.” Dove lifts an eyebrow, then folds her hands in front of her. “But there isn’t anyone else you’ve grown attached to?”
Could she suspect Sky? I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. There’s only one thing that matters now.” My family’s freedom.
Dove doesn’t ask, nor do I offer.
I can only hope Sky will find a time to come to me alone again. No matter what, we will figure this out together. Like we always do.
“Serenity.”
At first, I think it’s Sky. It sounds like him. Insistent, urgent.
But as soon as his fingers stroke my cheek, I realize it’s Luc. He rouses me from my sleep, his arm curling behind to lift me from the bed.
“You must come with me now.” Luc coaxes me to my feet. “I will carry you if I have to.”
“I’m tired,” I pipe up before closing my eyes again. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
“Then, I will have to carry you. There’s something you must see.”
“Another exhibit?”
“Something like that.” Luc gathers me up into his arms.
I slump against his shoulder, lean my head into his neck to breathe his skin; it smells like winter—fresh and crisp. When I hear his pleased snigger, I stop. Instead, I focus on my surroundings, how he leads me down the staircase and onto the moving walkway, out of the Nest wing and to the second level of the Exhibit rooms.
I don’t open my eyes until he announces in a soft voice, “We’re here.”
There, in the center of the hall, is Gull’s exhibit.
But there is a man inside, and he is clearly trapped.
Luc eases me to the floor.
“Gull?” Luc calls.
Dressed in her simple gray shift with feet bare, Gull emerges from one of the dark corners of the room to stand beside me. She shivers, but I can’t join her, can’t touch her. Frozen between the world of standing and sitting, it’s all I can do to stay on my knees because I know what’s to come.
Luc stands before the display just like he stood before the graphickers that fateful night he turned them to bloodied pulp and sizzled flesh. Beside me, Gull is unaware of what’s coming as Luc enters the exhibit room. No gun in his hand tonight. Through the exhibit speaker, we can hear every word Luc says from beyond the glass.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he questions Gull’s abuser.
“For my private exhibit room, just like you said. I won the claim, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” Luc says. “And tonight, you win the honor of being part of the display. You will become part of an incredibly special showing tonight.”
“Is that so?” The man stands against one glass wall, arms folded, apathy coloring his features.
“Yes.” Luc closes the glass door behind him, unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves, and rolls them up his forearms. “Tonight, you get the opportunity to try to hit someone who hits back.”
And before the man can assume a defensive position, Luc swings his fist—a strong uppercut to the man’s jaw, sprawling him on the glass floor. But Luc doesn’t wait for the man to get up. Nothing about the Aviary director indicates he fights with anger. To him, this is business. Pure violence —a means to an end. Retribution. Just like his contract killing in the past. A way to maintain control in his Aviary.
Except I am here, too. This is also Luc’s effort to satisfy me. To prove me wrong.
Seizing him by the hair, Luc crams the abuser’s face into the glass wall. The glass doesn’t crack, but the man’s nose certainly does. Blood gushes from his nose while Luc beats at the rest of him over and over and over again. The man is beyond the point of screaming; he is simply crying now.
Luc glances at me once, and I can see the memory of my damning words flashing in his eyes. And then, Luc erupts. He slams his fist into the man’s mouth—a few of his teeth eject. Luc lands another punch, and I hear a sickening crunch.
Mania wracks Luc’s body now. Taking the man’s arm in his powerful hands, he twists until it cracks and hangs loosely from its socket.
It is like some vicious, graceful dance I don’t want to interrupt, but I know only I have the power to do it. And by now, Gull has crumpled with her fingers pressed to the glass, crying, sobbing.
“Luc!” I call, rising from my knees.
Gull watches the massacre inside her exhibit, watches as her abuser’s blood swims in rivulets along the glass floor.
“Luc!” I pound on the glass.
Pausing, he drops the man’s other arm. It takes him longer to face me. After he opens the exhibit door, Luc shoves the man to the floor. He pauses, eyes remaining on the man but fingers summoning the Aviary interface. Security guards appear seconds later and seize the man, dragging him beyond the doors of the main hall.
When Luc finally turns around to face Gull with blood-covered hands and swollen knuckles, it is she who runs while I remain.
“Go after her,” Luc urges, with a motion of his head toward the staircase. “She’ll need you. She doesn’t understand.”
“I wish you’d done it for her,” I say, taking a step toward the stairs.
“It wasn’t for either of you. It was for him. Maybe now you’ll see I am willing to go to any lengths to protect them. You’re right—caring for them requires love. Something I’ve neither felt nor made the choice to feel—not until now.”
For a moment, I only stand there frozen, allowing his confession to sink in. Then, I march toward Luc, smothering the air between us.
I close my eyes, touch my palm to his, and savor in the smear of blood wetting my fingers. He grabs my other hand. Luc doesn’t need an apology. For him, I can see that this is enough. His hands crowd my cheeks, fingers leaving blood smears on my neck, and when his mouth bears down on mine, I kiss him back for the first time. Not to win his trust, not holding anything back, but because I truly want to.
He tastes like dark water, feels like frosted glass, smells like salt and iron, and he plunges his ice deep into my heart while his hands reach up to capture the back of my head, pulling me closer.
Hearing those words, sensing his claim sealing itself around my heart, his hands possessing my body, I know for certain he’s kept his word and convinced his father to keep me here. Luc will be my first.
After the kiss becomes overwhelming, he releases me to Gull.
I find her cowering by my door. Sky is watching her, but waiting for me as always. At the sight of the blood on my face and hair, he angles his head, worried. Once he realizes the blood is not mine, he seems to relax. Even as he resumes his vulture-like stance, confusion dots his eyes.
Opening the door, I lead Gull into the bedroom where Sky follows. I almost want Gull to leave so he and I can talk, but when I see the way she caves in on herself, the way she shivers, I take pity on the girl. First, I wipe my face and hair as best I can before lifting the sheets to snuggle beside her.
Pressing her hand to mine, she traces the tips of my fingers, which still have a few blood smears. She doesn’t pause at the blood. Her fingers drift across it, pondering, like she’s hoping her own fingers can taste it like mine.
“It didn’t make a difference,” she whispers in the still of the room.
I shake my head. “Not to you.”
“For you, right? I was hoping it was for me. But when he came out, covered in blood, and only had eyes for you, I knew.”
“That’s why you ran away,” I say, realizing. “Then why are you here, talking to me?”
Gull shrugs, nudging me with her elbow. “Your bed’s warmer than mine.”
Rolling my eyes, I chuckle a little. “That’s actually impossible, considering it’s a lot bigger. The more space there is, the less warm it is at night.”
“Unless there’s another body inside it. At least it doesn’t smell like nightmares.”
I straighten, listening in the dark. “And how do nightmares smell?”
“Like sweat. Dried sweat.”
I shake my head. “No, I happ
en to be an expert at nightmares. Sweat is a good thing. That’s the smell of your body fighting the nightmare. The real nightmare sounds and smells sweet like harps and honeysuckles. That’s when you know the nightmare is about to begin. And all you can do is hope your body’s strong enough to make your mind wake up.”
“Mine doesn’t do a very good job,” Gull complains.
“Give it time. Your body doesn’t do so well when it runs off so little sleep.”
Gull groans. “And how can it sleep when it keeps having nightmares to worry about?”
“Mmm.” Leaning my head against the bed frame, I reflect. “If we were in my kingdom, I’d give you my magical sleep potion. I made it myself out of rose water and stardust.”
“And where is your kingdom?” Gull asks, playing along.
I think of my imaginary island, but Gull needs more than that tonight. She needs a bit of magic to hang onto. “Far across the sea, there’s an island hidden by fog so thick no one can sail through it. And if the fog wasn’t enough, high cliffs surround the entire island. There’s only one magical door through the cliffs, and it can’t be opened by anyone but the fairy godmother.”
Darkness dims the room as the moon peeps from behind the clouds, shedding a glow into the bedroom. Gull mimics my movement of leaning back, and little by little, her legs unwind themselves from her chest, loosen until they relax. “How does she decide who can come in?”
“Anyone who wants to enter must perform an impossible service to prove themselves worthy. It can be anything from dredging up a cup of salt straight from the sea without a drop of water, or singing a beautiful song without even opening your mouth.”
“Those are impossible. How can anyone get in?”
I cross my arms across my chest. “The only other people she lets in are those born with fairy blood. Like me,” I tease.
“You’re definitely not a Bird. That’s for sure.” Gull straightens, then touches my back. “If you’re a fairy, where are your wings?”
“Oh, I don’t bring them out too often.” I wave a hand in the air. “It’s such a chore.”