Destiny Defied (The Destiny Series)

by Marx, J. A.

  Jase wished he could hug her and bring back her bubbly spirit.

  Chapter 36

  Feverish and weak from hunger, Lord Vétis bound the hutia, his midday meal. These four days in the same clothes plus dreamless sleep among vermin evoked too many memories of his cesspit existence as an orphan in the alleys of Lisbon. The orfanato that took him in had been a negligible upgrade from street living.

  A gust of sentimental satisfaction lifted his mood as he pierced the hutia. Even back then, Vétis ruled his domain and dominated his fellow orphans.

  Father Raposo’s departing words on Vétis’s day of release haunted him. You’ll never survive without God.

  In case the dead priest was listening, Vétis restated his conviction. “It is God who will not survive without me.”

  Their farewell exchange had been the only memory he’d kept of his youth. He had successfully eliminated the rest. So why, at this hour and location, were these emasculating memories re-emerging?

  A commotion by the boathouse drew Vétis through the dense vegetation to the edge of the beach.

  The island mates were boarding a raft with fishing gear.

  The Forces oblige me. He’d use their absence to prepare for tonight’s ceremony. His damaged feet carried him toward the bungalow.

  He had left Portugal at age eighteen. Within a week, he encountered an insignificant order of insurgents, disillusioned and embittered against the system. Vétis discovered his destiny through their leader, Rakshasa, presently an Ipsissimus level VI in the Temple of Set. Out of their alliance developed Potestas et Lux.

  Your era has expired, Grand Master. Shortness of breath slowed Vétis’s ascent up the deck steps. “I blight this snakebit island.”

  Fletcher’s Cay had a reputation of mythical notoriety amongst the Lux. He had once ridiculed those prone to believe superstitions.

  Marshaling his strength, he entered the bungalow—And halted.

  Heart pounding, Vétis steadied himself against the round table. “What do You want from me?”

  Omnipotence bled from the drywall. The beamed ceiling whispered Vétis’s birth name, the one he’d traded for his Temple pseudonym: Vétis, tempter of the holy.

  He gnashed his teeth at the Presence. God had his chance to make a difference back in Lisbon. He failed. Compassion made humans weak. Hope was a ruse. The promise of eternal heaven was merely a ploy to suppress the mortal soul.

  Vétis lived to disgrace Him. “To hell with Your mercy.”

  Sudden trembling hobbled his courage. His stained spirit horrified him. To a depth never thought conceivable, he identified with the indignity of those he defended by trade. Dissenters. Racists. Traitors. Militants. Whenever an underground player needed someone pardoned, and had the money to pay for it, Vétis exercised strategies to exonerate the worst of souls.

  Today, he’d vindicate himself. “You can never defeat me.”

  He stole what he needed and bolted from the dwelling. A criminal on the run. As he circled the boathouse, he stooped to pick up the blood-caked cloth slipping off his foot. He stuffed it in his pocket. Then, with his mutilated toes uncovered, he veered from the main trail. He bent no branch and trampled no plant, leaving no sign of his presence.

  Several meters into the vegetation, he reached his campsite and dropped to his knees. He unraveled a plastic bag and let the single bagel slide into his hand.

  “I was born to be served.” He reminisced of lamb chops with mint jelly. Baby-red potatoes baked and seasoned. Asparagus steamed to perfection. A basket of rolls and the finest Pinot Noir accompanied every evening meal—a lifestyle of a Lux executive, not a lawyer. In three years, his courtroom skills would no longer be needed on the public front. He would manage Riki Hammad fulltime. She would be in demand. The fee, high.

  Sampling the plain white, enriched bagel, his deprived taste buds luxuriated. The first full bite pampered his hunger. The next bite cinched him with guilt. Thieving so close to the appointed hour could prematurely reveal his existence and sabotage his ploy.

  “Kiko will cover for me,” Vétis thought aloud for the sake of the Supreme Prince who had no wiretap in the human mind.

  Given Riki’s amnesia, he could perchance unveil himself completely, as Dr. Caedis. If he befriended the mongrels, they would certainly treat him as hospitably as they treated Riki or rather, Hope.

  But if his appearance stimulated her memory too soon …?

  Three days of solitude with no one to talk to other than the moon and a pathetic Asian kid had obviously eroded his good sense. Vétis choked down the last of the bagel.

  Channeling his fatigue and bitterness into a reservoir of strength, he carried on with preparations. He took the tin can he’d stolen from the bungalow’s rubbish holder, filled it with morning glory, prickly poppy, catalpa bark, other roots, and flora, and ground them into a lumpy goo. Using the grating he’d found earlier in the boathouse, he assembled a makeshift grill. He put a match to the pile of combustible material beneath it and heated up his concoction.

  “The Supreme Prince and I will call on you shortly, destined one. You must please him.” And me.

  He covered his nose and mouth with the bungalow’s dishtowel and stirred the potent mixture, taking care not to inhale it. Assuming Riki would attempt to defy him, Vétis intended to ambush her as a part of her initiation into Phase II. This potion would keep her sufficiently sedated while he sacrificed her to the Prince of the Air. She’d have no conscious option but to surrender to his bidding.

  As the mixture simmered, Vétis prayed. “Ante mortem. Malady. Insanity. Spirit of calamity—”

  A sharp pain pierced his chest. The enemy was invading by degrees, waiting for the appointed time with equal eagerness. This mission consummated destiny.

  “Let mutilation pursue whoever is praying against my will.”

  Chapter 37

  “A potentially dangerous situation and you did not listen to me.”

  Hope gripped the side of the raft, ready to jump ship. An impulse to defy, to live unrestrained, had driven her into the water. Now facing Isaac, she regretted her rash exploit. “Dolphins are social creatures. They travel close together in pods. Sharks are loners and rarely travel with other.”

  “But it does happen.” His merciful stare scattered the crumbs of her stubbornness. “And sharks have been known to attack small boats. Am I right?”

  Letting go of the raft, she hugged herself. She’d thought he’d just wanted to control her. Now she saw that he truly cared about her safety. The lifeguard had undeniably studied up for this trip. Maybe if she had identified the dolphins to begin with, she could’ve spared the Ohioans a panic attack, a scene that amused her at the time.

  You’re so selfish, Hope. She swept her wet hair out of her face. “Yes, sir. Sorry I defied you.”

  Whatever punishment he dished out, she’d accept.

  His expression wrinkled, and he fumbled with the fishing rod. “Just communicate with me next time, okay? And … don’t call me sir.”

  The boys all took up a rod and bait.

  Hating that she was Isaac’s main source of trouble, Hope stayed on the floor by the motor, sewing her nerves back together. She’d lost all desire to reacquaint with her past, and from that, discerned only one route to freedom.

  LIBERTY … IN GOD WE TRUST. She needed courage to take that route. The idea frightened her for reasons she didn’t understand.

  At the other end of the raft, the Foursome fished and talked.

  Hope closed her eyes, trying to picture a college dorm and an all-you-can-eat buffet, conversation topics she failed to identify with. Imagining her stomach so full that she’d have to be rolled out of a building seemed ridiculous, and sickening.

  Nevertheless, their droll conversation had a mending quality, and she now needed a diversion from boredom. If she were fishing, she’d scrap the poles and fashion a spear out of bamboo. Hunting dinner sounded far more fun than waiting for it to come to you. Her mind presented the
how-to technique, but she didn’t dissect the information in case it led to another painful image.

  She draped herself over the aft end and dangled her fingers in the water, waiting for dinner to surrender to her island mates. Whenever they requested it, she helped identify their growing catch.

  The raft rocked. The water below her swirled, and Jase’s head popped up giving her a start.

  He latched one hand onto the rope lining the raft and stretched out on top the water. “Whatcha been thinking about, princess?”

  Calling her princess could never change how she felt, but the harmless label was not worth disputing. She splashed him. “What does it mean when you say someone ‘rocks’?”

  “It’s like saying you’re bad.”

  The truth comes out. She frowned.

  “Bad, as in cool. An example of awesomeness.” He pointed at her. “You rock, princess.”

  Was there no end to his endearing twist on language? “Is it an Ohio idiom?”

  She took his non-answer as a no. Figures.

  Jase’s frame undulated with the gentle waves. “Do you wanna share the flashback you had when we were with the dolphins? You don’t have to, remember.”

  But he’s dying to know. At least this one hadn’t made her feel ugly. Just freaky. Her flashbacks had worn out their welcome. “I saw a boy swimming in the water. Then I saw him lying in a boat. A canoe maybe. He was”—She couldn’t bring herself to say dead—“he wasn’t sleeping.”

  The musician nodded, as if picking up on the implication. In fact, all the Ohioans discerned things in ways she couldn’t, and that frustrated her. Why was she so abnormal?

  She splashed him again then whispered, “I have a question that needs an honest answer.”

  Jase looked up at her with wide eyes. “You look fine in the T-shirt.”

  “It’s not about clothing.” She glanced behind her to make sure the others were occupied. “I want the truth.”

  He swiveled around and faced her. “I promise.”

  Drawing an upside down question mark in the water, she hoped she wouldn’t regret this. “Do you guys think I’m normal?”

  His head cocked to one side. “Normal?”

  “Sometimes I feel so alien.” Recalling all her embarrassing moments made her cringe. “Isaac thinks he always has to save me, and I know I’m driving him nuts. All I remember of my past are weird, split-second images that throw me into a tizzy. And those freaky muscle cramps—I know you don’t think that’s what they really are.” She avoided his boyish gaze. “You guys pretend it’s nothing. But you have such perfect lives. It’s not fair to you, and I wish I’d washed up on another beach so you wouldn’t have to put up with me.”

  If life had buttons, she’d push disappear.

  Jase took hold of her dangling hand. “Don’t wish yourself away. We don’t see you that way at all.”

  Akiko does. Hope rested her chin on her forearm and reviewed the past couple days. Passing out with only a towel on had humiliated her immensely. “My first night here, I puked my guts out.”

  He shook her hand. “You’re going through a lot. But you never whine or complain about anything. Stuff just happens.”

  “I hear voices.” She pulled her hand out of his.

  Jase inched closer. “I can’t imagine how it must feel not to have an identity. I wish I could buy you a new one.”

  He’s sidestepping the issue. If it wasn’t for his boyish mug and likeable personality, she might pinch a different answer out of him.

  “We believe you were brought here on purpose.”

  Tingles travelled down her spine, and she arched an eyebrow. “Brought here?”

  “God’s got his spotlight on you.” He touched her arm, aggravating the tingles. “Humans are so screwed up. We all need healing. This is your time. We just want to see you come out on top. And we’re not just putting up with you. So dump that lie.”

  What is it he’s not telling me? Her soul groped for understanding. “You guys see things I can’t. What do you think is really happening to me? And why?”

  Jase’s mouth contorted into every possible form before it stuck in a lopsided smile. “We think it’s spiritual.”

  She hated that reply. “Explain.”

  The raft bounced. “Check it out!” Sabio cried.

  Hope turned around.

  Sabio held up a flopping, silverish fish with yellow spots and a striking yellow stripe bridging its head to its tail. The sphinx’s grin showed his pride. “So, marine expert, what type is this?”

  “Yellow-tailed snapper. Edible.”

  Isaac patted Sabio’s back. “That makes enough fish for a decent dinner. Ship us out of here, Kiko.”

  Hope caught Jase’s eye as he climbed aboard. She needed to understand what they meant by spiritual.

  Chapter 38

  Jase raced home with Isaac ahead of their friends. Sliding the glass door closed and thinking about locking it, Jase wondered where he could hide in the bungalow.

  The loft? Too creaky.

  Isaac noisily opened and shut cupboards. “Did you eat the last bagel?”

  “Nope.” Peering through the glass pane, Jase saw the other three approaching the deck, carrying tonight’s dinner.

  “That’s weird.” Isaac’s stomach howled. “I saw her leave it on the counter.”

  “Check the toaster. I’m taking a shower.” Jase scurried to the bathroom.

  He washed off the marine residue then slipped unseen into the bedroom to dress. The scholar’s herbal collection caught his eye. Had it included courage pills, he would’ve downed the entire bottle.

  Jase stuck his ear to the door and listened to the commotion. Dishes clattered. Akiko said something about fixing the ham radio with Sabio. Doors opened. Closed. The sound of feet stomping confidently on the roof suggested an attempt at stabilizing the antennae that Friday’s storm had blown down. Most likely Isaac’s self-assigned task.

  Which meant the bungalow was unoccupied. Except for Hope.

  Jase cringed. Why me?

  It wasn’t Hope but the thing on her that reduced him to a social wimp. And he had no Swedish Fish left to dull his nervousness.

  What physically didn’t exist couldn’t hurt him, right? He cracked open the bunkroom door like a kid checking the closet for goblins. If becoming a supernatural superhero required an entrance exam, he’d already failed.

  She needs a friend. Conquer this. He marched himself down the hall. If he could get her to take a two-way radio to the beach, they could communicate long distance while he sat on the roof with Isaac repairing the antennae.

  On his way outdoors, Jase grabbed both radios off the kitchen counter. He assigned himself the defective unit in case he needed an excuse for not answering scary questions.

  The mermaid, still in her swimsuit and T-shirt, rested cross-legged on the deck bench. Humming. A purring cat lounging in a sunbeam.

  Leery of her rapid shift from feeling alien to seemingly carefree, Jase set the radios on the cast iron table. “What’s with the dreamy smile, princess?”

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “About?”

  “My life.” Purrrr.

  Jase dragged over a chair and sat across from her. “Okay. Untie the bag. Let out the cat.”

  Mounting her forearms near her knees, she leaned his way. “I’ve been overly anxious about my past. I’m ready to move on.”

  Caution bells pealed. “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “I haven’t really been living.” Eagerness twinkled in her eyes. “I’ve been waiting for some extravagant epiphany to help my life return to normal. But I don’t want that anymore.”

  He propped a foot on the bench near her knee. “What happens when your memory comes back?”

  “It’s been three days. I’m not going to remember any more than I do now.”

  This didn’t fit with salubrious. Anchoring his thumbs in his pockets, Jase tipped the chair back and balanced. “What if you do?”

&nb
sp; She shook her head. “I’ve eliminated that possibility.”

  Denial. He lowered the chair legs to the deck and gave her a serious look. “Someone’s out there looking for you, somebody who loves you. You don’t know what you’re missing. What if you’re a lost princess? Or a celebrity?”

  She scoffed. “If that were true, you’d have recognized me, silly. Besides …” The pouty lip made a comeback. “My flashbacks don’t foreshadow anything worth remembering. Every memory leaves creepy feelings.” Her tone finally subsided from superficial bliss. “Don’t you think I’m right to forget the past and move on?”

  “Well …” Jase thought of his aunt who refused to drive again after running over her dog. “I know a few people who let stuff from the past hold them back.”

  Hope nodded approvingly.

  “But not dealing with the past can hold you back, too.” Although he sympathized with her shriveling reaction, he had to speak the truth. “Your memory’s gonna return. You’ll have to face it no matter how creepy it might be.”

  Wedging her cheeks between her fists, she stared at the deck and sighed. “What if it’s too hard to face?”

  He wanted to give her a hug, but she’d never welcomed that sort of thing. He tapped her knee with his toe. “Okay. Let’s try it your way. What’s the first step to moving on?”

  She leaned back into the bench. Hands in her lap. “Ever since I woke up here, I’ve felt myself suffocating. I’m done being that fish out of water.”

  Picturing a Swedish Fish in a dry moat, he widened his eyes with guarded optimism. “And?”

  “I cannot believe I’m saying this. But …” Her thumbs twiddled. “I need what you guys have. A reason to live. I need faith.”

  Jase’s neck hairs started dancing, but not from her confession. From the arctic air mass building up around him.

  “I need help understanding liberty, in God we tru—?” She slapped both hands over her ears. Her face scrunched.