PHOENIX
Male anglerfish attach themselves to the lady anglerfish and proceed to atrophy until they are essentially a parasite with male reproductive organs, available to the female whenever fertilization is needed. If he doesn’t, he will die.
I back away from the room, heat rushing to my head, rage ticking like a live bomb. I didn’t mean to see that. I didn’t want to. After Jackal kissed me, right there in front of everyone, I fled like a frightened deer, his words a razor on tender flesh. I needed to gather myself, unfold my thoughts enough to understand them. I moved through Mrs. Mavey’s party in a trance, barely hearing what anyone said to me, my lips still tingling where his tongue had touched them. I wanted to find him, demand to know the real reason he wouldn’t leave me alone. When I asked Mrs. Mavey where she’d led him off to, she directed me to the library with a smirk. I didn’t know I’d see Jackal being Jackal upon walking through the door, his stellar reputation at play before my eyes.
I blink at the scene in front of me; it takes my brain a second to catch up to what I’m seeing, the lights so dim I have to squint. There is a woman on all fours, her chin thrust upward and her body rocking back and forth. Her breasts bounce beneath her, and out of her throat comes an animal sound so primal in nature that it sucks the breath out of my lungs. Jackal stands behind her, his naked body bronzed in the candlelight. With one hand, he holds a mass of her hair wrapped around his fist, and the other is gripping her buttocks in a hold so tight it looks painful. My eyes move to his face and my mouth goes dry. He hasn’t seen me, he can’t see anything—because his eyes are closed, head tilted back. Even in the dim light, I can see the cords in his neck straining against his flushed skin.
He likes what he’s doing. What Gwen Allison has been preaching around the Regions is wrong. His is not the face of a prisoner or even a forced man. My eyes move back to the woman, her cries sound like the braying of a donkey. The jealousy I feel is unexpected. It rushes at me like a hot wind, pushing me further out of the door where I stand, glued.
I tear my eyes from their fucking. There are other women in the room, all of them naked, lounging on chairs and leaning against walls as they watch. Some of them are touching each other, hands and mouths open, searching like they’re hungry. I want to look away, but I can’t. I realize with dismay that there is a humming between my legs. I’m soaked and also deeply ashamed. I clamp my thighs together and grind my teeth. What is wrong with me?
One of the women turns on the chaise she’s reclining on, her head pivoting toward me. When our gazes meet, I see the glaze that covers her eyes, her lips wet and parted. I’m of little interest; her attention returns to Jackal after a cursory glance. She’s waiting her turn. Well, so am I. I step back into the room, my shoulders squared. I can play games too.
It’s the sound of my heels on the marble floor that makes him open his eyes and see me. My footsteps crack like a whip through the air, rising above the woman’s keening. His face betrays nothing of surprise, but he’s buried to the hilt inside of some woman. It would be so easy for me to shove her aside, she’d fall right over like a tipped cow. I grapple with the decision and then forget my jealousy when I look at Jackal. His eyes are half open as he stares at me, a look of intense concentration on his face.
I stop a few feet away from them, aware that I’ve quickly become the center of attention in a room full of naked, sexually aroused women.
“I’m next,” I say.
His rhythmic thrusting falters and I see him slide out of her, slick with her wetness.
“No,” he says.
The woman looks up in a daze, jarred to the present by the absence of Jackal’s cock, and sees me standing there. She clumsily climbs off of the ottoman, a look of disappointment on her face. He didn’t come inside of her. Boo fucking hoo, I think. She’d make a terrible mother anyway. I have no grounds for this, but it makes me feel better to think it. When she’s gone, I get a full view of Jackal. I’m grateful for the dim lighting in the room so he can’t see the rosy red mortification climbing to my cheeks.
Hard and lean, his penis fully erect, his body is lit only by the candles that flicker behind him on tables and shelves. I have a fleeting thought of fire. Who puts this many candles in a library? But then Jackal comes into focus again and all I feel is a burning in my lower belly.
“Yes,” I say.
In a score of bravery, I flick the straps of my dress off my shoulders and the silk collapses to my waist. His eyelids flutter, and suddenly, he’s over the ottoman and right in front of me.
“No,” he says again, softly this time so only I can hear.
Shame climbs my face as my eyes fill with tears. He’s rejected me and so publicly; it is all a game to him. He stands close to me, his fingers lift the silk of my dress, grazing my nipples as he covers my breasts. In spite of myself, I shiver at his touch and then curse my body for its response.
“Why not?” I spit out. “You can fuck an entire room of women without blinking an eye but not me?”
He casts a cursory glance around the room before leaning over me.
“You’re drunk,” he says softly. “And you’re a virgin…”
“So what?” I can’t keep the hurt from my voice. “So are most of them…” I jerk my head around the room, not caring who hears me. I can smell the sweetness of Jackal’s breath as he breathes into my face, his features contorting as he shakes his head.
“The only thing you’ve ever had inside of you are your own fingers.”
“Finger,” I correct, but my skin is feverish at his words.
His face twitches like he wants to smile, but he quickly gets himself under control.
“I’ll fuck you, Phoenix. But not here and not in front of all these people.”
I fight back the tears of humiliation. “Why not?”
Now he looks flustered, his usually cocky face almost sheepish.
“I want something just for me. I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”
I open and close my mouth. There is nothing. No words. I do the only thing that I can think to do in such an awful situation. I leave.
I gather myself enough to hurry down the hall, through the foyer, and fumble with the door to get it open. I bang on the door twice in frustration and finally it opens and I rush out.
What were you expecting from him? I ask myself over and over. I don’t know if I’m angrier that he had his hands all over that woman or because he didn’t have his hands all over me.
“No, you don’t want him,” I say out loud. I don’t. I really don’t. He was right. I’m drunk.
I groan and walk for a while before bothering to get a car. I only ever take a taxi after a party, needing the fresh air when I’m out of the studio. When I’m close to my apartment, I remind myself that the evening wasn’t a complete bust. I open my clutch, and even in the dark, the sparkle of the diamond watch is stunning. Some of my anger evaporates, and I smile and close my purse, satisfied. This should help more than all of the bracelets put together. Watches are a rare find, especially with all the diamonds still in place.
The flash of Jackal’s body moving behind that woman, his fingers gripping her, floods into my mind. My mouth waters and I open my eyes, grateful for the dark.
“Thank you,” I tell the driver before getting out.
I’m a few steps from the front entrance of my building when a hand touches my shoulder. I jump sky-high. Damn Jackal has made me so distracted that I wasn’t even paying attention. Thief mistake number one.
She’s tall, hair tucked underneath a hat. I can’t make out her face. She assesses me from where she stands.
“Yes?” I ask, moving closer to the door.
“Thank you for your contribution,” she says.
“Jewel?” I hiss.
I’ve never seen her in person, at least not when I’ve been aware that it’s her, but we’ve talked through our Silverbooks for months now, and she says this after every donation I leave on the random doorsteps I’m assigned to.
She blinks, her only confirmation.
“Do you mind if I come up?” she asks. “It’s probably not a good idea to talk out in the open…”
I want to say yes, I do mind, but that would probably not go over well. My hands tremble slightly as I hover the chip in my wrist over the entry, still shaky from being startled out of my dreamworld. The door slides up and we walk inside the building, silent as we ride the elevator to the twelfth floor. I can feel her eyes on me, so I study her in return. She stands a good six inches taller than me and has spiky studs on her boots that would be frightening in a dark alley...or in an elevator late at night.
The elevator dings and we step off, walking to my door. When we step inside, the lights automatically lift to a comfortable brightness and I hold my hand out toward the minibar in my living room.
“Would you like a drink?”
She shakes her head, her attention shifting off of me and onto the things in my apartment. She does a thorough check of my house, scanning it with a device I don’t recognize, over fixtures and under my table and chairs, my Silverbook. When she’s satisfied, she abruptly turns around and faces me.
“We need your help. You’ve shown your dedication to the Revolution.” She smirks and her face changes drastically with that adjustment, putting me at ease. “Your tenacity with taking from those who don’t know what to do with their wealth has been entertaining. Thank you.”
I curtsy and she grins bigger. I eventually smile back.
“Are you willing to do more?” she asks.
She’s not afraid to stare me down. I imagine her in staring contests as a child and would wager she won every time. I look away, dammit.
“Depends on what you mean by more.” I move to the bar and pour a glass of water for myself. I lift it to her, making sure she hasn’t changed her mind. She shakes her head.
“No doubt you’ve heard about Gwen Allison’s escape…”
I nod.
“We hadn’t expected her to be quite so…” she pauses.
“Resourceful?” I offer.
“Resourceful,” she repeats, smiling.
“So what do you need from me?”
“The Red Region has launched a manhunt for Gwen and the women who escaped with her. Most of the women who left with Gwen were behind bars for petty crimes. Crimes they wouldn’t have committed if they weren’t starving.”
“The lower end is given no choice but to fight to survive,” I agree.
“We give them no choice,” she says. “And then we punish them.”
We are both quiet for a moment, the truth of her statement weighing between us.
“We’re hiding them,” she says suddenly.
I sit up straighter. “Gwen?”
“Yes. We have her. But we need to move her. Somewhere safer—closer to the border.”
My heart is beating erratically in my chest. Gwen Allison is here, in the Blue.
“We’re trying to spread out the prisoners who have escaped—buy time until we can figure out a way to get them over the border. They escaped before we’d worked that out yet, so now we’re scrambling, playing catch-up.”
I want to ask about Gwen, but I hold back. “What would you need me to do?”
“Word is you have more room than this elsewhere...Upstate?”
It’s disconcerting how much she knows about me, but I shouldn’t be surprised. The Revolution is making strides because of their ability to get information and to connect the right people together. I’m more honored than anything. It feels good to be part of something, something that’s not dancing.
“You want me to hide them?” I’m thinking of the numbers. A hundred fugitives would be near impossible to hide.
“Just a few,” she says. “We need more time before we can get them out. As soon as they got involved with Gwen, their crimes went from things like theft and arson to treason. If they’re caught, there’s no doubt they’ll spend the rest of their lives in prison. The Society is looking to make an example of them.”
I think about the way Folsom’s son, Laticus, had been shot while trying to escape and set my glass down.
“I know it’s asking a lot,” she says, like she can read my thoughts.
“It’s dangerous. Will I have protection?” I ask.
She sits down in the chair across from me and leans forward.
“We’re growing, but our resources are limited. This would be a risk you’d need to be willing to take.”
Indeed. I stare down at my hands and suddenly I picture Jackal, the image of him with all of those women. He hadn’t looked like he needed saving tonight. But there was Folsom, who Jackal had called the best of them, and Gwen who had sacrificed herself to save the man she loved, and her sister, and Rebel who would never know his parents because he was taken unfairly from his mother.
“Yes. I’ll help,” I say quickly. “I’m due for a risk.”
Jewel nods. “Good. Because we need to move fast. Preferably tonight.”
I balk.
She stands up and puts her hand on my shoulder. “I know this is a lot to take in. You sure your proper, regimented self can handle this” —she does a general sweep of her hand over my body— “upheaval?”
I level her with my resting bitch face and she straightens, raising both hands.
“Okay then. Hurry, time’s wasting.”