Destiny Defied (The Destiny Series)

by Marx, J. A.

  “Didn’t mean to rush you.” Isaac slid open the glass door for her but held his arm across her path. “Just looking forward to knowing the real you.”

  Chiara stopped. Stared ahead.

  “A lot happened over the past hour.” He searched her gaze to decode her uneasiness. Was it safe to leave her alone, even in the bathroom? “You look … scared. Am I missing something?”

  Her focus stayed forward, and her eyes moistened. “The past three days were a piece of cake.”

  Brushing his thumb across her smudgy cheek, he lifted off a tear. “We believe in you. You’re a new person. I can sense the difference.” He sincerely could, despite the melancholy.

  “Just—” Her lower lip quivered. “Don’t give up on me.”

  Wouldn’t dream of it. Isaac let her pass and monitored her climb to the loft for fresh clothes. He couldn’t fathom what made her believe they’d give up.

  After three-and-a-half days of aggressively building relationship, the moment of testing had arrived. Nothing should keep Chiara from opening up her life as they had done with her.

  Unless her past was so nasty it would repulse him.

  Isaac considered taking a hike and letting his friends deal with her. In a few days, she’d be out of their lives anyway. So what did it matter?

  Stop. He put up a shield against the arrows of deceit.

  The act of passion he witnessed on Turtle’s Head had bruised his soul. New life—better than defibrillating somebody. Heal the spirit and everything else will fall in line, just as his dad always said. Isaac vowed to fight off anything that tried to steal the riches gained that afternoon.

  He took a seat at the table. “What happened to your face, Kiko?”

  “Someone else is on the Cay.”

  The news hit like a grenade. Priming for launch, Isaac scooted back his chair. “You saw somebody?”

  Chiara’s habit of taking long showers gave Akiko ample time to describe his past seventy-six hours under Dr. Caedis’s influence.

  Isaac wanted to slug him, but the Asian acted sufficiently devastated. “Smooth move, X-lax. Each time we rejected her sixth-sense impressions, we added to her feeling of insanity.”

  “I’ll make it up to her.”

  Digging the knife out of his pocket, Isaac bristled at the idea of being spied on—for three days! His blade reminded him to ask, “How’d she cut her wrists?”

  Jase recounted his experience, talking faster than a racer biking downhill to the finish line. The conversation on the deck, the encounter at the strangler fig, the chase up Mt. Merhamet.

  “Time out.” Isaac signaled him. “What do you mean you were ‘knocked to the ground near the big tree’? By Dr. Caedis?”

  “No. By the ghosts that strangled Chiara.” Jase tapped furiously at his neck. “Did you miss the freak token they left?”

  She was attacked? Shock and grief ruptured Isaac’s heart. He’d assumed the ligature mark came from another attempt at suicide. He’d thought that was why his friend had called for help in the first place.

  Jase described the ‘burning bricks’ he’d felt on Chiara’s belly when she doubled over on Turtle’s Head. “She’s been suffering this abuse. This rape. Since Saturday.”

  The remark scorched Isaac at the core. “Drop the rape part.”

  “No!” Jase pounded the iron table. “That’s exactly what it was. And it’s been happening right in front of us.”

  “Let it go.” Isaac fought off the pictures of brutality taking shape in his mind. “It’s over. Chiara even said so.”

  “Maybe not.” Sabio’s usual composure bordered on anxiety. “Think about Dr. Caedis’s subliminal influence on Kiko. He could be doing the same to Chiara. That’s why she’s been sensing his presence. And I think she still feels him after her.”

  “Clarification.” Isaac pointed east and west to illustrate his argument. “While she was attacked on the mountain, Caedis was with you guys. He couldn’t have caused our experience.” No human could.

  The magnitude of this crisis exceeded his understanding. His abilities. What did the phantom power on Mt. Merhamet want with Chiara? Who was Dr. Caedis, and why was he interested in her?

  Stretching back in his chair, Isaac raked his fingertips across his scalp. “I’ve had enough run-ins with death for one week. What happened to our vacation?”

  Sabio flattened both palms on the table. “Caedis is probably a fugitive hiding from the authorities.”

  “Fugitive pervert.” Akiko scratched his roseola cheeks.

  If Dr. Caedis were a victim of the shipwreck, he would’ve asked them for help. Considering how effectively he used Akiko to keep tabs on Chiara, the guy was no idiot. Fugitive pervert fit.

  Isaac didn’t let himself dwell on what Caedis likely wanted from her. “We can’t let her out of sight. And we can’t tell her about Caedis.”

  The scholar dropped to eye level. “We have to tell her. Honesty is best.”

  “Honesty deferred.” Isaac wouldn’t saddle her with more to fear. The way she talked—and panicked—on the mountain, she had enough to deal with.

  Sabio shook his head. “She could have done something to bring this on herself. Just because we like her doesn’t make her innocent. She may already know about Caedis.”

  Although he wanted to, Isaac couldn’t argue against logic. “We compromise.”

  Sabio looked thoughtful for a moment. “One shrewd, well-placed question should tell us what she knows.”

  “One question only.” Isaac sealed the deal with a handshake.

  If Chiara didn’t know about Caedis, his existence would remain classified until a safer time.

  Akiko cleared his throat. “Why do you think she never asked about my …?” He tapped a blotchy cheek.

  Isaac picked up on the insinuation that Chiara knew what Caedis was up to. “Why didn’t you ask about the strangulation mark?”

  Stalemate.

  Clenching the icepack in one hand, Jase stood. “Caedis’s a psychic rapist.”

  Isaac swung a fist.

  His friend sprang out of range. “Stank!”

  What am I doing? Isaac’s overreaction to the ‘R’ word shocked even him. The weirdness of these parallel scenarios—Caedis versus It—definitely threatened his common sense.

  He reoriented his thinking. No matter how scared or uncomfortable she might become, they somehow needed to access and destroy the root of whatever hex or sin had been keeping her in bondage all week. Possibly longer.

  “Bottom line. Chiara isn’t fighting against flesh and blood. She’s battling powers of darkness. So put on your armor because our mission here isn’t finished.” He led them inside.

  Chapter 44

  Turn knob. Shed clothes. Get in shower. Seal cloth curtain to wall tile.

  Mechanical actions gave Chiara the freedom to think—if being stuck in a swamp of memories qualified as freedom.

  The Lux had barricaded her inside the Nave’s cabin. Burning candles. Doped oils. The ritual. Lord Vétis said Riki Hammad had been selected. Before her conception.

  How was that possible? What day was today?

  Her muscles stopped yielding to the warmth.

  “Mom?” Her mind blocked that road, too.

  She suppressed all memories. Except one. Riki Hammad was no more. The Ohioans called her Chiara, the name her mother gave her. Riki died on Mt. Merhamet.

  Liberty. In God I trust.

  Her island mates would want to know about the Spencers. She’d rather swim with electric eels than tell them. Learning the vile truth would give the wholesome foursome reason to not associate with her.

  Expect rejection. The evasive tactic of taking a shower merely postponed inevitable exclusion.

  Yet … the alpha dog could have insisted she stay on the deck and divulge everything. Instead, Isaac wiped the tear from her cheek and said he believed in her.

  On Turtle’s Head, he and Jase had handled her humanely. They restrained her, yes. But they wanted her
to live. Voluntarily.

  Each scenario had given her alternatives, not ultimatums. Each one opposed conventional wisdom. A divergence from her old world.

  Liberty. In God I trust.

  She scrubbed the dirt from under two fingernails then pulled her rope-burned wrists out of the stinging water. She scrubbed again. The stinging kept her coherent.

  I don’t have to tell them everything. The less the boys knew the better for their relationship. And the quicker it would all pass over.

  Or not.

  Too much information needed sifting in too little time.

  Exotic emotions squeezed her chest. Living with the Foursome had affected parts of Chiara’s conscience she didn’t know existed. She had cried. A lot. All week. Now she felt like crying nonstop.

  What’s happening to me? She had to squelch the fluxing melodrama before she could give a careful, deliberate disclosure.

  She turned off the worthless shower before the safetyman assumed she’d passed out.

  Praying for invisibility, Chiara tiptoed into the main room. She stopped at the kitchen’s peninsula counter.

  Jase leaned against the opposite side, smiling at her from under the cabinets. He’d changed out of his muddy clothes.

  “Sorry again about your eye.”

  He must have washed his hair in the kitchen sink. “Pain’s gone.”

  Liar. She picked the dime off the countertop.

  Sabio and Akiko entered from the porch and settled on opposite ends of the couch. Isaac followed and piled himself on the floor in front of them. All three stared at her, blatantly eager to hear her quantum confession.

  Just keep control. She inhaled deeply, flipped the dime in the air and caught it on the exhale.

  “Chiara.” Sabio propped a foot on the coffee table. “Who are you?”

  Helter-skelter memories vied for publicity, yet nothing came out when she opened her mouth. What happened on Turtle’s Head had trapped her in an identity limbo.

  Who am I really?

  Isaac stretched his legs out beneath the coffee table. Could be a long night.

  Detecting suppressed trauma behind Chiara’s leathery veneer, he had a hunch she might not have recovered from the assault by the strangler fig. He regretted not having been there to help her.

  She stepped away from the counter, staring at the coin in her hand. Did her partially combed hair signal an absent mind? “I’m stuck between three worlds. Where do I start?”

  “Describe ’em.” Isaac cast feelers to net any unspoken messages.

  Flipping the dime up, she caught it. “One world is my past, which I’d forget completely if possible.” The dime flipped again. “Second, is the previous three-and-a-half days, which I wouldn’t trade for a zillion bucks. And the third world”—She tossed the dime at Akiko—“is where both past and present converge. The part that’s obscure and leaves me—” A sharp gasp finished her statement. “But I’ll underline the most important thing right up front.”

  Important to her meant important to Isaac. He sat forward as she faced them squarely.

  “Your humaneness has meant more to me than I can convey in words.”

  Humane-ness? Sounded like a dog-pound term. Not what he expected.

  “Honestly …” Her head lowered, and strands of damp hair webbed her cheeks. “You’d be better off not knowing me at all.”

  That hurt. “Stop thinking that way. We want to know Chiara Spencer. We haven’t spent the past few days being open with you so you could close up.”

  She thumbed her chest. “I just learned about my family’s real beginnings Friday night. My conception of human existence is now shifting like sand. I’m still figuring out who I am.”

  Isaac couldn’t imagine such treachery. “Are you saying your parents kept major information from you?”

  “Vital details. And I’ve had what? An hour or two of conscious time to dissect it?” She flung her arms. “Of course, I spent most of that time wrestling with half of you in this room. My brain is working triple time to bring order to it all.”

  Merciful amnesia. He reassessed his plucky patient.

  “Picture my life as a house built on parallel foundations.” Her hands sculpted an imaginary building. “An outer foundation was laid in place to disguise the true foundation. When certain conditions forced both foundations to overlap—” She interlaced her fingers. “I suspected something was amiss. But I didn’t know how to question anything.” Her voice quieted. “I don’t know if I want to face the real foundation once my mind pries off the façade.”

  She’s trying to suppress. How atrocious must a matter be to keep it secret from your own child?

  Worried that someone might score her suppression attempt in favor of Dr. Caedis’s allegations, Isaac followed his eager heart. “Here’s the bottom line. Do you want God to continue in you what He started on that mountain?”

  She absorbed his piercing gaze instead of looking away, another sign that she wasn’t the amnesic victim from before. “I see no other option, Wild Man. Only I—” She promptly ambled toward the bookshelf. “Nothing.”

  Only she’s afraid she can’t handle it all. He glanced quickly out the porch door. No lurking psychos in sight. “Give us a chance.”

  Jase leaned against the counter, pressing the icepack against his eye. “How about we ask questions to get you started? We’re your friends, remember.”

  She spun sharply toward the musician and halted.

  The flame of pain in her expression singed Isaac. Help me understand you. “So. What’s your full name?”

  She hiked up her shorts. “Chiara Shadi Spencer.”

  Delightfully exotic. “Do you want to sit?” Isaac nodded toward the closest dining chair.

  “No, thanks. Next question?” She pivoted away from the kitchen.

  Although tempted to physically end her bothersome pacing, he crossed his arms and stayed put. “Where were you born?”

  “Florida.” She U-turned at the porch door. “But I’ve lived on Omeàla since infancy. It’s an island. Somewhere.”

  On earth? “Got siblings?”

  She shook her head.

  Akiko raised his hand. “What other family besides your parents live on Omeàla? Grandparents, cousins, aunts, unc—?”

  “None.” She whipped a salty look at Akiko. “I was not made aware of any relatives other than my parents. But I’m sure some exist.”

  Feistiness won’t score points. Isaac pulled one knee up for an armrest. “Bet you’ve got a ton of friends.”

  Chiara’s fingers teased the bookshelf as she swerved past it. “I had no companions, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  What? The girl’s wit and playfulness could get her elected Miss Popular. Her evasiveness, however, would raise suspicion.

  Isaac studied her blank expression. “Are you saying we are the only people your age you know?”

  “Sort of.”

  Enough ambiguous answers! He pressed a fist onto the coffee table. “I’m serious, Chiara.”

  Her glare slapped him. “Do I sound like I’m joking?”

  He withdrew his fist.

  Earlier, she’d mentioned the significance of their humaneness. Had she meant friendship? The farfetched discussion they had two days ago about an isolated life was tolerable in theory, or as a feature story in National Geographic. But the idea of someone actually keeping his patient from having friends fired up Isaac’s militant instincts.

  “What’s the population of Omeàla?” Sabio finally joined the inquiry.

  “About …” Chiara plowed her fingers through her damp hair. “Thirty-five. Forty.”

  Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Thousand?”

  “Forty. Period.”

  A suspiciously meager amount.

  Sabio’s leg bumped him, as if silently agreeing with the thought. “What’s the main attraction for living there?”

  “All subjects worked for my stepfather.”

  Subjects conjured up images of a monarch
y. Isaac wished she’d give lengthier answers to cut down the questions. “What’s his business?” Don’t say Emperor of Omeàla.

  She fiddled with her shirtfront. “He operated a small cruise ship.”

  “Family run, I’m guessing.” Isaac didn’t wait for confirmation. “What kind of cruises?”

  Her toes dragged along the carpet. Was she pacing out of nervousness, or to sustain a flight-ready position? “What … kind …?”

  He remembered the red poker chip. “Gambling cruises?”

  “Affirmative.” She accelerated her gait. “Next question?”

  Crud. Every evasive answer counted as a strike against her, something Isaac couldn’t remedy.

  The caged-for-display feeling kept him shooting glances out the glass door—as Hope used to do when he thought she was paranoid. Was Caedis watching them now? What sort of evil was the doctor up to with the makeshift altars? Blood sacrifices?

  Liberty. Chiara pondered the Ohio dime lying on the coffee table.

  Omeàlans lived under the oppression of tyrant-king Max. Riki Hammad had refused to bow down.

  On Mt. Merhamet, Chiara Spencer had willfully bowed down to a new King. She wished this same freedom for all Omeàlans.

  Akiko’s hand flew up. “What’s the law enforcement like on Omeàla?”

  What kind of question was that? Chiara nevertheless appreciated the blotchy-faced Asian changing the subject. “There are no gendarme or jails on Omeàla.”

  They all gave her funny looks. For what? She stashed her fingers in her back pockets to end their restless wiggling.

  Isaac twirled the dime on the table. “What’s your role in the family business?”

  A deplorable subject! She scowled at him. “Entertainment. Next question.”

  Akiko’s hand shot into the air. “Having families means children, too. So Omeàla must have a school. Right?”

  She hadn’t mentioned anything about families on Omeàla, but she savored the image his question simulated. Reversing directions at the kitchen counter, she hoisted up her baggy shorts. “A woman from another island came to teach.”

  The sphinx unfolded his arms and sat forward. “Why did she black out portions of your texts?”