The Garden Page 9

  I scoot out of my chair. “What are you talking about? Kill him?”

  “You don’t understand her like I do.” Luc finally steps forward, but he keeps his hands at his sides, stuck there like burs pinned them—Jade’s invisible burs. “We have a…past. You know how close of an interest I take with the Aviary. Consider Jade even closer to her Garden. It’s her identity. She won’t allow anything to threaten it. It’s why she selects her Seedkeepers with care and trains them to perform while inhibiting their manhood. There is no fraternization, no bias, no connection, and no bonds permitted for any of the Flowers because it can provide a means of escape. And if she were to discover Skylar’s connection not to just you but to me, she will have even more reason to kill him.”

  I thread my hands along my arms and ask, “Why?”

  “Jade may not have affiliations, but she has a closer alliance to the Syndicate than to the Guild. She bears the Temple’s protection. But she always looks out for her own interests. The more powerful the allies she has, the better. If she discovers the long-lost Guild son, she would play him as a card to our father. Or…”

  “Or what?”

  “Or she would simply kill him and be done with it. I came here with you. Our connection was without question, but I am well known and respected. She does not know Skylar. She will automatically suspect a plot against her. And I can reassure you that she would make his death a slow one. Extract as much information as she could.”

  I wince at the thought. “What about the Sanctuary? Can we—”

  “You don’t seem to understand.” Luc closes the distance between us until his brows curtail low, eyes lancing me with the knowledge. “We are all flies in Jade’s web. No one is coming. This weekend, you will be put on display. And Jade will not wait like I did.” His eyes tamper with mine, snapping back and forth. “A client will pay a high price for you, and she will not refuse them.”

  “I will.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Luc’s hand stampedes on my wrist, fingers rubbing my skin’s paths. “You will feel the heat of a man soon enough. And it will not be mine.”

  And he walks away.

  I steel myself instead. “I don’t have one speck of serenity in my blood, Luc.” My words tackle his. “You’ve seen what I can do. You still underestimate me.”

  “And you still underestimate Jade.” He inclines his head to me, one slight twist back.

  “What can Jade do to me?”

  Silence.

  And then, “Much.”

  Just after Luc departs, Magnolia comes to escort me to Jade’s demonstration. Sunset fades somewhere inside the earth’s bowels. Night spears the sky, but one wouldn’t know it from all the spotlights along the garden paths. Even with the breeze spearing the air, the humidity still births its mark, and I welcome the damp air and invite the sound of the crickets chirping melodies.

  As Magnolia leads me through garden path after garden path, I feel the butterflies panicking inside me because they feel what I already suspect. When the last path clears, spilling into a soft meadow where an old shed stands with vines worshipping its exterior so much I can barely detect any wood, the butterflies inside me begin to scream. Only I can hear their voices ramming my eardrums, screeching because they understand what sort of demonstration this is going to be.

  Inside the Shed, Jade waits for me, electric baton in her hand. As soon as my bare feet brush the doorway, Magnolia closes the door behind me. At once, Jade sweeps her body aside so I can see him. Bound to the wall by leather cuffs attached to steel chains on his ankles and wrists, arms suspended above his head, with a strip of black leather smothering his eyes.

  “Come closer, my sweet. He can neither see nor hear you.” When Sky’s nostrils flare, Jade surmises, “Oh, but apparently, he can smell you. Or perhaps me.”

  No, it’s me. He knows my scent just as I know his.

  Sky groans, muscles bulging as he wrestles with the chains.

  “This is the first stage. You see, for the entire afternoon, he’s been chained here, listening to nothing but the thundering music I assigned to him. You must remember. It’s not about lust. It’s about control. The first stage is part of the breakdown. Hitting them at their weak spot. Now, it’s time to remove the music devices. At your leisure, Serenity. Don’t be afraid.”

  I’m not afraid. Sky stops thrashing as soon as my fingers touch his ears to remove the speakers. If Jade notices, she doesn’t remark on the matter. I hear Sky’s breath quicken, the familiar muscles in his neck tensing at my touch. What I want most is to curve my fingers onto those muscles, to soothe the sweat on his skin until it dries like he’d done for me all the nights I dreamed of the Vampire or the Glass District when we were younger. But I remember Luc’s words, and thus far, Sky hasn’t given any indication he knows me. Nor will he.

  Again, Sky growls when I retreat, but it’s not him I focus on when I turn around but Jade.

  “Watch and learn.”

  Jade unties the sashes of her leather coat, then slips its grip from her shoulders. Lets it drop. Underneath, she wears nothing but her namesake flower along with what I at first think are white gloves only to realize they are more of a second skin—some sort of latex. I imagine they are significant, but I don’t know why. Each verdant bloom on her skin is intricately positioned to expose her sinuous curves. They weave in patterns, braiding around her parts like green twists of rope, while still allowing her angelic skin to tempt Sky. At her waist is a whip. I can see digital sensors attached to its ends.

  “Have you ever seen a Jade flower close up?” she asks Sky as she approaches him while holding the electric baton in one hand and a Jade flower in the other. “They really are the most glorious flower. The little pouch hides the stamen so cleverly and cunningly that it’s a wonder how they ever manage to get pollinated.”

  All Sky does is spit, saliva projecting onto Jade’s face. The action does not go unpunished. She targets his neck so he’s forced to arch, then she removes the leather blindfold at the same time she pauses, leaving him to gasp before her.

  “When you behave, the blindfold will remain off,” she informs him. His eyes stray to mine, but Jade commands him with one thrust of her baton. “You will look on me and me only. In time, you will trust me and tell me how you managed to trespass on my property.”

  So incensed am I that the butterflies inside me swirl all my stomach’s contents from dinner, but I smash at them, preventing the retch from coming up. Just listen as Jade swipes the tip of the flower against Sky’s cheek, causing him to flinch. That mere action earns another twist of her wrist, bearing the baton against his neck. When he cranes his back, she reaches up to undo one of the buttons on his shirt, gloved hand stroking the bare skin there. Sky thrashes. When I see his flesh singing, I understand the skin-like gloves are some sort of incendiary latex. She’s…burning him as she touches him. I refrain from wincing. Through gasps and snarls, Sky continues to batter against her, earning the baton at every turn until she’s stripped apart every button.

  This time, she must turn off the latex because she draws one finger in a single vertical line up his chest. Sky defies her by shifting his gaze to me, holding mine. My butterflies rear their heads, wings sharpening like swords on stone. No one should touch him like that but me. I don’t give him my pity. I show him my anger, let it scrawl its flame in my eyes because anger will keep him strong. He’ll know the anger is for Jade. Suddenly, it’s a tangible thing. When Jade strings one gloved hand around his neck, my fingers tingle from the lightning I feel inside, just waiting to feed on the madam—fatten on the power that would come from yanking her hair out. What warns me not to act is the subtle shake of Sky’s head. It’s not lost on Jade, though, who twists her head to eye me.

  “I see you have an admirer, Serenity.” Jade creeps around the side of Sky’s body, murmuring in his ear. “I will teach you what happens when your eyes stray.” She nips his ear before circling around behind him and reaching for her whip.


  The sharp crack against his skin causes me to flinch, startles me just as much as it pains him. Every one of his muscles tighten as he drives his body forward, away from Jade’s action, chains rattling like old bones. I refuse to look away as Jade coils the whip before tracing a finger across the bloody line she’s just created on his back. Sky cringes. His hotbed of muscles practically choke. Still, he says nothing. He’s putting up a good front, but I know he’s grinding his teeth behind those ample lips that have thinned to a ribbon’s width. This time, he jerks his head to the side, cocking his eye to her.

  “Better,” Jade commends, dragging her white fire glove along the side of his face, mopping up his sweat as she does so. “This whip is enhanced. It delivers an electric charge much like the baton, except the force of my hand will deliver various levels. How about we begin with something simple and go from there? I assure you I am a patient woman, and I have all the time in the world to learn everything about you.”

  When he flares his nostrils, I wince even before Sky performs the inevitable action. Hear the snap of the whip against his chest after he spits in her face again. With her distracted, as she fingers the skin on his chest and the inflamed striation there, I pour hot blood into my eyes and mouth his name, pleading with him to stop this. All Sky gives me in return is closed eyes, head bowing no more than an inch to signal his refusal.

  Lightning under my skin foams at the mouth. It isn’t the first time I’ve been angry at Sky. Not the first time I’ve wanted to attack him for being such a blockhead, but it’s the first time it’s felt this potent. More than the rage I feel for Jade, I’m angry at Sky. Angry he followed me because he knew what would happen even if I didn’t. Angry he couldn’t fathom another way than this. Angry I have no choice but to watch. I can’t close my eyes. We are the paper flowers all twisted up in each other. We are two beasts with horns locked. It falls on me to fix this because we are all prisoners now. Sky—a prisoner in the Shed and at Jade’s torturous mercy. Luc—a prisoner in his own body. Serenity—a prisoner in the Garden. Yet, I am freer than either of them.

  But I refuse to leave without them. And Fawn.

  I bundle my hands into fists, watching as Jade trains one finger under his jaw, raising his chin to her siren face. “Just one name. Or I will call you my pet.”

  Her lips leave a lipstick blemish on the right corner of his mouth, to which he snarls and fumes.

  “Hmm.” She prints her hand on his neck, edging it back just a little as she remarks, “I like my men like you. Well-built, hearty…red-blooded. So much potential. Are you ready to tell me your name?” She grips the back of his neck, drawing it down so she can see his eyes, then curls the edges of her whip, drawing its edge across his mouth. When he grinds his teeth, eyes clenching, it’s confirmation the whip’s end is surging into him while her hand burns the back of his neck.

  Suddenly, Sky catches the whip between his teeth, wrenches it from her hands, and chucks it to the floor. Somehow, I manage to swallow my frantic giggle just before Jade collects the whip, unconcerned over the rebellious action. She promises him more blood, more shredded shirt, which she fulfills until he slumps forward, head cowed to the ground.

  “Will tell her.”

  His voice is as ragged as his ripped and bloodstained shirt. It’s torture to hear.

  Jade uses the whip to propel his head up. “What is that now?”

  Through gritted teeth again, he announces, “Will tell her.” Jerks his head once in my direction.

  Jade shakes her head, denying his request. “No, you will tell me.”

  Sky chuckles before projecting his saliva to the ground. Angling his head to the side, he vows, “Then…you’ll never know.”

  Jade grins. “Wrong answer.”

  Every whip crack is like a curse branding me. Like devils dancing in red-hot iron shoes on the pathways of my heart. Jade is a scar collector. She wields the whip like a master violinist. Like Sky’s skin is her instrument and the scars are her symphony. After her whip kisses his back, she thumbs each mark, admiring her handiwork until finally…

  “Kyle.”

  Alice is to me what Kyle is to Sky.

  “And your name…” Turning to me, she smiles once with the proclamation, “…is the Skeleton Flower.”

  9

  S c A r s

  Task fulfilled, Jade closes the door behind us, cleaning her whip and leaving Sky alone in the shed. She eases into her coat as she instructs one of the Seedkeepers near the door, “Let the Flowers come and go as they please for the remainder of the evening. When nightfall comes, I’ll return with the inhibitor and some food and water.”

  “Why all the other girls?” I demand to know as I follow her through the garden paths to the Museum.

  “Flowers,” she corrects. “A manipulation tactic. Allowing the Flowers to ogle him will reinforce my message—that he is below them, a display. Naturally, they can’t touch him due to the bars. But it will also give them something to talk about.”

  “Aren’t you concerned he’ll escape?” I briefly look at the shed, hoping, but I know it’s in vain because Jade is too careful for that.

  “No. Any attempt to remove the chains will result in an electric pulse strong enough to stop his heart.” Of course it will.

  “And why don’t you give him food right now?” With Sky in his condition, he can’t keep up his strength without any food. Will Jade starve him?

  Jade raises her chin and continues walking, hands placated at her sides as flowering shrubs enclose us. “He performed well, and he will be rewarded. But he will associate me with the reward, because I will be the only one to feed him. He will know I control his fate. You must make him believe and accept that you are in the one in charge. It will take time, but he will learn, and I am thoroughly enjoying the challenge.”

  “Why not Luc?” I pursue her, following close on her heels. “He actually killed two of your Seedkeepers.”

  “Just as I stipulated inside the Shed, my Skeleton Flower, I prefer my men well-defined like him. Luc is far too silk stocking, wellborn, and beautiful for my taste. I prefer a man who knows how to handle himself.”

  I taste bile in my mouth, but I swallow it.

  “Luc kills people. He does it for a living,” I object as we enter the doors of the Museum.

  “Skeleton…” Jade pauses in one of the hallways, mistaking my questions as interest. “You must be patient before you master the trade. In time, I will permit you to perform the same methods on Luc. Because of his connection to you, it will work, but Luc already knows me and what I do just as I know him. Our connection is too close.”

  I don’t confess how the only man I’m interested in mastering is my father. That will come later—after I’ve earned her trust. It seems to register as the only way to get us out of this mess. If that’s even possible. Luc’s earlier words try to sour my stomach like rotten lemons, but I steel the butterflies there to trample the feeling.

  If I could damage myself…hmm…Jade wouldn’t want her prized attraction ruined. Could I threaten her with that?

  No. Jade has played her hand already. It’s stronger than mine. Luc, Fawn, and now Sky. Somehow, I have a feeling that self-harm will not be a viable threat. That scare tactic won’t work. What does that leave but trust?

  “What is the Skeleton Flower?” I ask once we progress to one of the Autumn Flower exhibit rooms where a girl with skin the color of coins and seasoned wine-red hair poses in a display. That’s when I realize she’s not paralyzed. The telltale flutter of her fingers confirms that.

  “Better, Dahlia,” Jade commends her, but she raises a finger in warning. “Continue to work on your posture. Do not lose the neck. Remember, allure is the key.”

  Dahlia doesn’t respond either by nodding or with words. Just arches her neck as Jade takes the side exhibit door into another hallway. “The Skeleton Flower is quite magical,” Jade proclaims as she takes another door that leads onto a terrace. “A research portfolio with information on yo
ur flower will be in your room by now. I have another matter to attend to. Surprise stokes more surprises.” She huffs a little while rolling her eyes.

  I don’t stop following her. “Why? What’s happened now?” Part of me wonders if there’s another intruder.

  “Come if you wish, Skeleton Flower. It will show you just how I handle things here.”

  I follow Jade up a wide stone staircase between a tree-lined path until we arrive at a generous stone fountain area flanked by sculptures of naked girls holding petals in their cupped hands. The murky fog of her words only clears when two Seedkeepers round the corner, holding the girl I recognize from earlier. Chrysanthemum.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk, my little Mum.” Jade clicks her teeth as the Seedkeepers put pressure on her shoulders so she kneels on the ground. “You should know better by now. Your exhibit is empty. When the glass is empty, there is no reward. And there is always a price to pay.”

  Chrysanthemum’s cheek invites one solitary tear as she nods, her fire-roasted hair turned dull as squash in the darkness. Her digital contacts remind me of its guts—all mashed pulp, ripe for the plucking as she surrenders to the madam before her, forehead governing the ground. Jade approaches the Flower, brushes the back of her knuckles across Chrysanthemum’s cheek before withdrawing another object from her coat—a riding crop.

  “What?”

  I don’t realize it has left my mouth until it escapes. Jade only eyes me for a second before turning her attention back to Chrysanthemum. Another moment later, the riding crop touches Chrysanthemum’s shoulder. Jade doesn’t take her time. This isn’t manipulation like it was with Sky. This is business. Pure control. And a sick sense of care is in that control as she unties the strings of Chrysanthemum’s dress, allowing the fabric to fall away from her back.

  Jade fingers the scars. “Most of these are old, Chrysanthemum. Almost three months…”