by Marx, J. A.
Copyright
Destiny Defied
© 2013 J.A. Marx
ISBN-13: 978-1-938092-33-6
ISBN-10: 1938092333
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people and/or events is purely coincidental.
Published by Write Integrity Press, 130 Prominence Point Pkwy. #130-330, Canton, GA 30114. www.WriteIntegrity.com.
Dedication
A big thank you to Holly “Lady H” Kitzmiller for encouraging me to write The Destiny Series and for hosting the first book club way back in 2002. And thanks to my first readers in Ohio and your valuable feedback: Sami Dehm, Dinah Hodgson, Stacey Miller, Ellen Neebes, Stacy Putman, and Jim Ruthrauff.
Thanks to my family for your support and sacrifice.
I give all the glory to the Lord God of heaven.
“Never forget that life can only be nobly inspired and rightly lived if you take it bravely and gallantly, as a splendid adventure in which you are setting out into an unknown country, to meet many a joy, to find many a comrade, to win and lose many a battle.”
Annie Besant
Chapter 1
Friday night, May 25, 1990
Southwest of Andros Island
I should’ve killed him. If the drugged oils Lord Vétis had made Riki inhale weren’t raging in her system, she’d revisit his cabin. Armed with a knife.
Don’t be stupid. She hesitated near the hatchway. Vétis she could handle. But no earthly weapon could defeat the phantom the Lux overlord had summoned. She’d prefer the vile, molesting hands of a man over experiencing it ever again. Returning to Vétis’s rancid cabin would be suicide.
All crew and passengers had been ordered to go below, but Riki had sworn to make the rendezvous. She sneaked out the hatchway, and the weather deck pitched beneath her wobbly legs. Gripping the side rail, she pulled herself aftward through the darkness, her stomach sloshing with the ship’s sway. The light rain pecking her back told her to expect a full-blown storm.
Every centimeter of the Nave del Piacere disgusted her. Since her seventh birthday, this mega-yacht had cursed her weekends. Tonight topped them all. Why had her mother not warned her that this cruise was different?
Why had the Lux chosen her?
“God … ” Dare she break the law and pray? Superstitious, no. She was desperate. “If you exist, save me—”
Burning prongs gored her solar plexus, and Riki doubled over. Just as quickly, the burning ceased, leaving her midsection tingling. The phantom had found her, just as Vétis had said would happen. An invincible force.
After the rendezvous and after her mind cleared, she would hunt down the Lux overlord. She had four days to kill him. Or die trying.
Pulling herself along, she reached her destination.
Near the aft gate stood the Nave’s cruise director, shrewd and proficient at playing both sides of a game. Aboard ship, Riki had disciplined herself to regard the woman as nothing more than the director—a lie of survival.
The woman winked as a streak of lightning reflected off her glittery, crimson dress. A canvas satchel hung from her shoulder. Earlier, she’d claimed to have a plan.
Was that a blinking red light in her hand?
The drug’s messing with me. Keeping her grip on the rail, Riki edged closer.
The light was affixed to a small black box. Had two decades of enslavement made the woman mad?
“Never forget your birth name.” The director placed the box in the bag then reached for Riki.
“No hugs. They’ll see you.” Letting go of the railing to push the woman away, she heard a clack. Her mushy mind strained.
The gate?
“My mistake brought you here. This will give you another chance. I love you.” The woman put her hand against Riki’s chest. And shoved.
“No—!” Grabbing for the rail, she found only air.
Seconds later, the sea slapped her back and swallowed her into a wintry blackness. Nailed with fear, she tackled the deadly undercurrents. She paddled upward, counting strokes until a breeze warmed her face and filled her lungs.
Her heart rattled in its cage as she estimated the Nave’s distance at fifty meters, then sixty … She should’ve grabbed the black box.
Adapt and conquer, Riki. Her tutors’ ingrained voices took charge. No time to think, only act. Never panic. She plugged her ears.
A blast thumped the night, followed swiftly by a second explosion. Rabid flames devoured the sable sky.
Stunned by the brightness, she gasped at the oncoming compression wave. A barrage of ship fragments grazed her flesh. She covered her head and stifled screams, willing her blunted mind to operate. The swelling sea she’d once trusted as an ally left her wheezing and desperate.
Conquer. Sculling and kicking, she plundered every pocket of air until the surging waters subsided to a dense calm. She blinked to clear her eyes then surveyed the aftermath.
Buoys of fire drifted where the Nave once sailed.
This can’t be happening. She hoped it was a drug-induced nightmare, but her nostrils confirmed the salt that her tongue tasted. The water was real.
No lifeboat.
No lighthouse to signal land.
A charred body drifted past, jarring her from her stupor.
“Sharks.” The word slipped out, provoking panic.
Self-control. Training overrode her numbness, and she groped for anything to keep her afloat.
A jagged, teakwood tabletop glistened in the flames. She climbed onto it. The table she’d cleaned ten thousand times was returning the favor. She clutched it and settled her gaze on the remnants of her past.
There is no turning back. Lord Vétis’s proclamation hacked at her brittle confidence. Tonight, he had tagged her as property of Lux et Potestas, dead language for Light and Power. An inescapable fate. Condemned from birth.
And now, her only known world … a holocaust.
Rage knotted Riki’s insides and burst through her veins. “Why?”
She cursed the night, but the terror didn’t end. She pounded the swells, but couldn’t reverse time. Her screams failed to bring relief.
Then a blinking red light flickered across her mind’s eye. That little black box had sabotaged the indestructible Lux. No more ship, no more slavery. Vétis was dead.
Lightning slashed through the sky, accentuating the noble undoing. Thunder’s applause announced freedom.
Composure chased off her fury. What did free mean?
Never forget your birth name. Could she survive without the only person who’d ever meant anything to her? Where would she go? How would she get there? Not yet twenty, Riki knew only one mode of existence. Was building a future worth the effort, or had they ruined her beyond repair?
Lightning zapped the abandoned night. Cannonades of thunder shook her bones.
Adapt. Head throbbing, she clung to her makeshift raft. Her arms and face stung from the debris. Maybe going down with the ship would have been better.
She hadn’t cried in more than a decade and wouldn’t start now. Resting her head on the tabletop, she stared at the sinking crematory less than one hundred meters away. Movement caught her eye. Another survivor?
The image blurred.
“Mom?” She closed her eyes, sedated by the undulating sea. Stay alive.
Like everything else, consciousness forsook Riki Hammad.
Chapter 2
Saturday, May 26
&nbs
p; Fletcher’s Cay, northeast of Cuba
Isaac Young weaved in and out of the trees, making his way up the western end of Mt. Merhamet. Roots twisted across the path—not the Ohio terrain he was used to. His faded green muscle shirt blended in, but the jostled, leafy branches threatened to expose him. He traveled lower to the ground, evading the morning sun.
On his right, the lush terrain dipped and leveled off toward the ocean. To his left, the jungle stretched along the side of the mountain. Trees, two and three stories high, designed the canopy. Bonding quickly with this new kind of wilderness, he marveled at the snaking vines and colorful fruit trees. The balmy, salty air carved a lasting impression on his mind.
He’d dreamed about this for a whole year.
Angling toward a cliff known as Turtle’s Head, Isaac whisked his fingers though his hair to get it out of his eyes. He peered at Mt. Merhamet’s domed crown. It didn’t look so high. Yet when he turned and gazed along the shore, the bungalow looked like a birdhouse.
No bunkroom for me. He longed to validate his Eagle Scout skills.
Eager to conquer Fletcher’s Cay, Isaac summited Turtle’s Head. He wanted—no, needed—paradise to liberate his mind of school and work. No ambulances to drive. No accident victims. One week free from tragedy. Heartbreak. Loss …
Stubborn images of disaster victims brought him to a halt with a throb in his chest. Crushed bodies. Comatose junkies. Orphaned babies. He’d memorized every rescue scenario in the book. He pumped iron so he could carry the injured to safety. But did any of that really matter? He couldn’t prevent their suffering. Nothing pained him more than hitting the pillow at night and still seeing an accident victim staring him in the face, pleading for relief.
Dropping to one knee, Isaac looked heavenward. “Why can’t I forget them?”
He didn’t blame God for the memories, only questioned their purpose. He needed to find greater significance in life.
Breaking off a small branch, he stuck it in the ground, a mini-monument to represent a new beginning. “If You’ve really got more substance to offer, I’ll buy in.”
Or was God an obsolete concept and merely his counselor-father’s copout cure for a broken humanity?
Enticed by the distant, foaming surf, he left his leafy shelter for a better view. Circling Fletcher’s Cay in the helicopter yesterday had given him and his friends a perfect panorama of Turtle’s Head. He slipped the daypack off his shoulder to get the binoculars and a granola bar.
Hearing footsteps, he turned.
One hundred and eighty pounds of energy leaped onto Isaac’s back, bringing him to his knees. A pale arm lassoed his neck and another hooked under his armpit. A good firm hold, yet not one Isaac couldn’t overcome.
“Kiss mine, X-lax.” He rolled onto his back, pinning his friend beneath his 200-pound frame. For the sake of the game, he’d delay a full reverse. “Now what?”
Jase Simon grunted. “We sizzle in the sun. Siamese bratwurst.”
Refusing to laugh, Isaac tightened his lips. Humor was an effective weapon against his strength, one Jase wielded expertly.
No one understood Isaac better, which was no doubt how Jase knew to find him at the cliff. He knew to hunt for Isaac where challenges thrived.
“Ya know …” Jase wrapped one leg around his. “This game kind of reminds me of last summer.”
“Our mountain bike and kayak trip?” Isaac shook his head, unable to make the implied connection.
They’d gone on an expedition through the Ontario wilderness. Their buddy, Sabio Quinn had created an itinerary, including maps. Akiko Edwards organized the food. Isaac had put together a major first aid kit. And Jase had brought Risk—the game the four of them had played like addicts since elementary school.
Still, no comparison between Canada and a subtropical island.
Jase’s grip tightened. “In Ontario, you finished every leg of the trip ahead of us and won every game. But here, I got you first. Surrender when ready.”
Isaac laughed. The losers of today’s game had to haul the camping gear and prep the campsite. “The bet was whoever wins in the end.”
“Stank. You remembered.” Jase coughed and spit. “Dude, you need a haircut.”
Feeling a tug on his mane, Isaac lifted his head. “You dissing my crown of valor?”
“You mean, blond mop.” Jase pushed him off and repositioned. “This game ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings.”
Bear-hugged from behind and his arms trapped against his sides, Isaac slowly expanded his upper limbs. “Start singin’.”
Jase’s clasped hands snapped loose. He crawled away. Isaac jumped up and lodged him in a full nelson, designating him carrier of the camping gear.
“Uncle!”
The immediate surrender didn’t surprise Isaac. The musician’s guitar-playing abilities had earned him scholarships to Eastman School of Music. He’d won awards for his songwriting talents. But put Jase Simon on a battlefield, and panic would kill him before the enemy even got close.
Isaac hoisted his friend off the ground. Best friends since kindergarten, he struggled to close this season of life.
Jase did a double take at his front. “When did you start wearing religious clothes?”
Looking down at his muscle shirt, Isaac shrugged at the cliché motto. God is Hope. “It’s part of my mud wear. What’s the excuse for your costume?”
The musician shrugged at his orange and yellow tie-dyed T-shirt. “Ran out of time to do laundry. My dad’s 70s wardrobe was the only stuff available.”
That meant Isaac would have to endure the flower-child look all week. “Not exactly the best camouflage.”
“Don’t underestimate me. I’m incognito as a giant land-parrot.”
Chuckling, Isaac brought the binoculars out of the daypack. He briefly scanned the sea then hiked on.
“Paradise rocks.” Jase tagged along, humming as usual. “Did you smell those pink and yellow flowers along the trail?”
No. But Isaac had enjoyed the lingering scent of rain from last night’s storm. He brushed at a dewy leaf.
“Think about this week, Ize. No homework. No job. No phone. No television. No outsiders …”
Isaac couldn’t agree more. They had the essentials. “Just a well-stocked refrigerator, a grill, and a beach.”
“And my guitar.” Jase and his twelve-string Gibson were like a S’more. Once they started cooking, the chocolate and marshmallow were inseparable.
Whenever Isaac needed to stop and ponder life, he liked having Jase play in the background. Peaceful. Relaxing.
They ambled across Turtle’s Head.
“I won’t miss girls either.”
Certain he’d heard wrong, Isaac stopped cold and turned around. “You feeling sick?”
“Did I actually think that out loud?” Shoulders slumped, Jase puffed out a heavy breath. “I’m drafting new rules for girlfriends this week. Need your input.”
Until he earned his medical license, Isaac had no intention of pursuing the weaker sex. “Why me?”
“Dude. You’re the only person I know who really lives by his principles. I need wisdom bad.”
Seriously? He helped people with broken bones, not broken relationships. Hoping to dodge the subject, he circled a gigantic kapok tree. Its exposed roots snaked along the ground, its fat limbs jutted over the cliff.
“I met Jennifer during finals week.” Jase gave a graphic description of his newest girlfriend. “She’s innocent.”
“Innocent?”
“As in pastor’s daughter. I didn’t know her title when we first met. Only that I liked the way her body bounced in the right places.”
“And she knows nothing about your five previous girlfriends?” Which Isaac had heard about during ten months of phone conversations. He worried that his friend’s addiction to the pinup-model would someday bring him down.
Jase’s discovery of limitless freedom during his first year at Eastman apparently hadn’t rewarded him as expected.
He admitted his disgust toward his own reputation as a ladies’ man. “I’m going to change if it kills me.”
Other than having to contend with a major accident, silly arguments about girl-issues were the only things that could ruin Isaac’s week. He reached the south edge of Turtle’s Head and swiveled toward his friend, aiming the binoculars. “This vacation is for the rough and tough. Not females.”
Jase frowned down the twin scopes. “Part of me thinks you’re jealous.”
Swinging a fist, Isaac’s teasing punch missed the ducking target.
“Girls add spice, dude.” The musician slapped the air, as if to slap Isaac’s face. “Life is uninspiring without them.”
Snubbing the implication, Isaac pivoted toward the ocean. “When I do find the right woman, you won’t see me acting dysfunctional like Sabio Quinn.”
“When the right woman drops in your lap, I’ll bet a hundred donut holes that your mental dysfunction will top Sabio.”
“You overrate female influence.” Thoroughly riled up, he back kicked and missed. He would not let frivolous debates about women sidetrack him from adventure. “And if you want to be a knight instead of the one-night stand, use your golden smile to befriend girls, not bait them. End of discussion.”
Standing where the terrain dropped off, Isaac attached the binoculars to his nose. The first sight he caught didn’t register as real. He blinked and refocused on a scattering of rubble and a strange, colored mound.
Can’t be. Clasping Jase’s shoulder, he handed him the binoculars and pointed toward the distant shore. “Two o’clock. Water’s edge.”
Adjusting the focus, Jase sucked in a breath. “Is that a body?”
Chapter 3
An hour earlier …
Akiko Edwards left his three companions inside the bungalow. Carrying the last two window panels outside, he trotted down the deck steps. He shook his head at the burnt antennae that once held center stage atop the bungalow’s roof and now lay on the ground. If Mother Nature could cast a lightning bolt with that much accuracy, she could easily zap an amoeba into existence.
