seen.
‘What’s your name?’ I said.
‘Castor,’ he replied. ‘I was named after a star. My parents said one day I would fly to a star. Perhaps they meant you.’
Godmother had told me never to trust men but I couldn’t stop the smile on my face or the warmth in the centre of my chest.
‘Would you like to come in?’ I said.
Castor had to fold his wings up to fit inside the tunnel and he left a dust of blue powder on the metal behind him. When we made it to my tree cave he stood tall and flexed his wings in the green shadows. I was mesmerised. His wings were azure and they had a trick of catching the light. They shone and sparkled as if they had been dipped in crushed sapphires. It seemed to me that a man was a wonderful thing and a man with wings the most wonderful of all.
‘I wish I could fly,’ I said.
‘You can,’ he replied, reaching out and stroking my cheek. I leaned in towards him. Anything that Godmother warned me against could only be good. ‘I could take you anywhere. If you wanted me to.’
‘Yes.’ I said. I knew I would say ‘yes’ to anything so long as it was with him.
‘Although,’ he looked downcast, ‘there is so little beauty left out there. It is all inside, here with you. Maybe you should stay, and keep me with you.’
‘But then you wouldn’t be able to fly,’ I said. ‘It’s too crowded, there are too many trees. Even the trees want to get out, I can feel it. Besides, Godmother would never allow it.’
Castor’s eyes turned hard. ‘I’ve seen her. The white woman who looks dead inside. She hurts you.’
‘She’d hurt you if she could,’ I said. ‘Maybe you should go.’
But I reached out as I said it. I placed my open palm on his chest and moved close to him. I had no memory of another’s skin, only Godmother’s cold, hard fingers digging into me as she strapped me down. ‘You’re so warm,’ I whispered. He wrapped a strand of green hair around his fingers and pulled me gently towards him.
Castor visited often after that, sometimes hovering outside the shaft, sometimes squeezing through the tunnel. I lived for his visits and dreamed of him when the needle sunk into my veins. I longed to leave my green sanctuary but I was frightened of the toxic world below. I couldn’t imagine being in a place where the air was sour and the ground grew nothing but cinders and slagheaps. Besides, as long as Castor visited me there was no pressing need. Once Godmother asked where the blue powder on my neck came from and I told her it was from a flower. Her eyes thinned to slits but she said nothing.
I missed Castor more and more when he wasn’t there. I saw his face in my sleep and longed for his arms around me when I woke. I ached every moment he was away, felt his absence in my heart and bones and in every breath that passed my lips. I spent hours with my face against the glass looking out at the broken spires and crumpled stone of the deadlands far below. I touched the purple petals of a trailing vine and inhaled its perfume while thinking of the bitter air outside. It no longer seemed to matter. No land would be dead if Castor was in it.
I knew I was ready when I woke up one day and realised that my whole life was spent leaning out over the tower and listening for the beat of wings.
‘Take me with you,’ I said as we lay against the tunnel wall with our arms around each other.
‘It’s an ugly world out there,’ Castor said. ‘Are you certain?’
‘It’s an ugly world in here without you. Hide here until after Godmother has taken my blood and I’ll come to you afterwards. She won’t miss me until tomorrow.’
I left Castor and went to the orchid garden on the other side of the penthouse where I whiled away a few hours singing and cutting blooms. Godmother would know I spent my morning there. At the allotted time I settled into my chair and the silver cuffs snapped around my wrists. Godmother smelled of antiseptic and her lipstick and nails were black. That hadn’t happened before. Was it a good day, or bad?
‘I have a special surprise for you, my sweet Anabella,’ Godmother said. ‘Why don’t you close your eyes?’
I didn’t. I just stared back.
‘Suit yourself.’
There was a white screen at the end of the laboratory. Godmother disappeared behind it and then came out, snapping white latex gloves over her bony hands.
‘Here you are my dear goddaughter.’
She rolled the screen aside.
Castor was lying on a metal bench, chest down, his naked limbs chained to the legs of the table. His face was turned towards me but his dark eyes were milky and unblinking. His powerful wings drooped down to the floor and the azure wingtips stroked the bleached tiles. Godmother opened a drawer and examined the contents.
‘This one, Anabella?’ she held up a thin, silver blade.
‘Or perhaps this one.’ The knife was large, with serrated edges. ‘Which would you prefer?’
‘Oh Godmother, don’t. Please don’t. Let him go, please let him go!’
Begging doesn’t help with Godmother. She enjoys it. I already knew that but the words went on and on, spilling out of my useless mouth.
‘I’ll never see him again, I’ll never even look out of the window, you can have all the blood you want, I promise, I promise I’ll never see him again!’
‘A moment of truth from your lying mouth. I am certain you will never see him again because I intend to make sure of it.’
She stopped and pulled a thick, curved blade from the drawer. The handle was made of bone and the knife’s edge glittered in the harsh white light.
‘I think it should be this one. Are you sure you don’t want to shut your eyes?’
I didn’t look away, even as my screams sliced their way out of my throat and vibrated against the hard surfaces of the laboratory. I watched Godmother saw into Castor’s shoulders and hack at the muscles and tendons holding his beautiful blue wings to his body. The sinews on her neck stood out and she grunted as she thrust the blade into his back. Choking moans pushed out of Castor’s chest and he writhed on the metal table until his body jerked to a standstill and he lay limp and unmoving. Blue powder coated Godmother’s bloody hands and her face was slick with crimson spray. Castor’s wings fell to the ground with a heavy thump. I watched them fall and wished the whole tower would collapse and bury me with it.
Godmother stood and looked at me. Her chest heaved from her exertions. A foul grin twisted her black lips and she raised her hand and plunged the knife into Castor’s shoulder. He didn’t make a sound.
‘How did you find out?’ I whispered.
‘I know every plant in this glasshouse. I know every flower, every fruit and every leaf. None of them have blue pollen. It was a simple matter to follow you and see you under the trees with him. I don’t know how he managed to fly in through the windows but that doesn’t matter. This man will never fly anywhere again.’
‘What are you going to do with him?’
‘Send him on his way, my darling.’
There was no point struggling against the chair. I’d tried that many times and all it did was get me covered in bruises. Godmother pulled Castor’s body from the table and dragged it across the lab. A bloody trail smeared the white floor. I lay back and let bitter tears seep from my eyes, acid tears of sorrow for Castor’s lost wings and his lost life. Godmother didn’t know about our ventilation shaft, but what did that matter now? She would throw him from a window and without wings he would plummet, hit the ground, smash his strong back, break the arms that held me close, snap the legs that once stood tall.
When Godmother unlocked the chair I was too limp to move. I couldn’t even try. All I could do was turn my head from the empty metal bench and try not to see the mound of mutilated wings.
‘Go and rest,’ Godmother said. ‘Perhaps this was a harsh lesson for you. You can have a day off tomorrow, as a gesture of goodwill for our future together. Together Anabella, never forget that.’
I lay in the chair, too hollow to care about the sound of Godmother d
ragging Castor’s body out of the room. There was no point fighting her now. There was no point fighting anything, doing anything, being anything. There was no point being at all. I staggered out of the chair and stumbled towards the clearing. When I got there I pulled the cover of the ventilation shaft aside and flung myself into the tunnel. I didn’t care about the noise; as far as I was concerned it could boom and echo until the end of time. The dim light of the outside world beckoned me and the void called. I crawled to the opening and pulled myself up to stand on the edge, inches from the abyss. I had no hesitation now. I tensed my muscles, ready to fly at last.
‘Anabella!’ It was his voice, low and soft.
‘Castor?’ I leaned forward and looked below me. Castor had one elbow over the window sill of a deserted apartment. His other hand clung to the empty window frame and his body teetered into space. I could see the pain on his face but his beautiful dark eyes were unclouded and clear.
‘I can’t reach you,’ I cried.
‘Anabella, Anabella! Let down your emerald hair!’
‘My hair?’ I yelled.
‘Yes! Untie it - do it now!’
I reached behind me and pulled at the ribbon holding back my wild, curling locks. A green waterfall tumbled down the tower, tendrils stuck and held, white petals fell. Castor grasped a luxurious handful and started to climb. I heard the scraping of the hatch cover back in the clearing as its rusted edges rasped against the entrance to the shaft.
‘Godmother’s found