Destiny Defied (The Destiny Series)

by Marx, J. A.

  Isaac squeezed her foot. “It’s not our place to judge. You can trust us.”

  Another glance at the lipstick message confirmed this was not her doing.

  Running from fate had drained every gram of Chiara’s energy. The thought of being rejected terrified her.

  Speak, a voice whispered tenderly. Clear as crystal.

  She didn’t yet trust herself to distinguish who was talking in her head, but she trusted Isaac. If she wanted complete freedom, she’d have to tell him what Jamila had confessed on their final night together.

  “Before I was born—” She coughed to clear congestion. “Mom and Max signed a contract with a secret organization. Potestas et Lux.”

  “Power and Light.” Sabio translated the Latin.

  She nodded. Placing a strip of hair over her eyes, she blocked out the mirror’s message. “Mom said I wouldn’t have survived the birth without medical intervention, which she couldn’t afford. The Lux paid for it in exchange for my life.”

  “Your mom sold you?” Jase said.

  His hurtful interpretation tightened her throat. “She kept me alive. They faked our deaths then moved us to Omeàla and organized Max’s business. There’s nothing there. Just a warehouse. A village of indentured workers. And our house.”

  “A prison,” said Jase.

  For freaks. Her T-shirt sleeve was too wet to store any more tears, so she let them drizzle.

  Reconfiguring the slabs of foundation, she realized Max had not made the laws, as she’d always believed. He merely enforced them.

  “Mom said the Lux scrutinized every move, punishing noncompliance.” Which brought to mind Miguel, the murdered galley cleaner. My fault. “When I turned twelve, they forbade me to associate with the villagers.”

  Jase tugged her shirttail. “Why? People need each other.”

  That stung. The mortifying reality of her deviant upbringing throbbed in her belly.

  Sabio flicked Jase’s arm. “They obviously didn’t want her enlightened about other cultures.”

  Jase flicked him back. “What about the rich scum?”

  Huddling tighter, Chiara adjusted the barrier of hair to screen out her squabbling island mates. “The Nave clients kept their private lives confidential.”

  “For different reasons obviously.” Isaac gently squeezed her foot. “So Omeàla is all you’ve ever known?”

  Rub it in. Shivering away excess wretchedness, she pressed on. “When Max wanted me to work aboard ship, they forced him to sign an addendum to the contract.”

  “Let me guess.” Isaac unleashed her foot. “He couldn’t leave you alone with any client.”

  “The Lux would have killed him if he did.” She wished they had anyway.

  “Your mom told you this?”

  Chiara nodded. “They brought in women and turned them into sex slaves for the business. Mom oversaw them.”

  Isaac shifted about on the tile floor. “What did your mom say the Lux wanted with you?”

  Anguish swelled into a moan. “She didn’t. Only my tutors knew this day was coming.” Shaking uncontrollably, she clenched her teeth to keep from biting her tongue. “Last Friday, they boarded the Nave for a week-long cruise.”

  “Not the normal weekend thing?” Isaac’s caring tone eased her through an urge to withdraw.

  “No. They locked me in a cabin.” Memories of that night’s ritual threatened to make her throw up. “I swear I didn’t know any of this until then. And I still don’t know everything.”

  “We believe you.” Isaac jiggled her ankle. “What did they do to you in the cabin?”

  To keep coherent, she hammered her forehead with her fist. The bump left by the door smarted. “Four of them. In black robes. Held me down. The leader, Lord Vétis, spilled oils over me. He chanted weird words and touched me.” Not knowing how to explain, she pointed to her solar plexus.

  Isaac restrained her hammering fist. “Abdominal spasms. Jase told us.”

  “He said I was chosen.” I should’ve killed him. A cold sweat prodded her to forget. “He put strange costumes in my cabin … for …”

  Chiara’s vision grayed. Dizziness sang her to sleep.

  Roused from a cozy oblivion, she saw Isaac’s hand waving a small container under her nose. His other hand held a cup of water.

  “Drink.” He put away the container.

  Grasping the cup with both hands, she took two long drinks. Dread weighed her down.

  Isaac relieved her of the cup before it slipped through her fingers. “Did Lord Vétis say what the costumes were for?”

  Costumes? She thought she’d already explained. “Rituals.” The bloody message on the mirror needled her soul. “What time is it, please?”

  Sabio gave her the time. “What sort of rituals?”

  Less than four hours. Her heart pounded. This confession was anything but freeing. “At midnight, the eve of my nineteenth birthday, Vétis was going to make a blood sacrifice to initiate my destiny. He said he was going to refine everything I learned during Phase I.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what he meant. Isn’t that enough information?”

  Maybe she didn’t deserve freedom. Fear reloaded.

  “What was supposed to happen at midnight?” Isaac lifted the hair barrier.

  Shaking and too weak to move, Chiara met his intense gaze. He had made the evil go away on Turtle’s Head. Could he help tonight? “Vétis was making me marry some Prince of the Air who’s probably hunting for me now.”

  “That’s Satan,” Sabio whispered.

  The revelation clawed her heart, her lungs, every bone. There is no turning back … The message on the mirror confirmed her fate.

  Isaac’s aura of confidence wilted. The boys’ expressions matched the murmurs of disgust.

  Tears exploded, and Chiara covered her face. “Please, have mercy! I knew I shouldn’t have told you. I knew it!”

  She wanted to die. But she’d never make it past the flawless foursome who now knew every miserable detail of her existence.

  Isaac pictured Chiara’s story on the movie screen in his mind. Given the events of the past three days, her confession shouldn’t have shocked him, but it did. Yet not until she passed out in a cold sweat did he clue in to how deeply the Lux tortured her soul.

  Then she bombed him with the forced marriage to Hell. Fiction collided with reality, and Isaac’s westernized mind had to open a door to the unimaginable. He would’ve criticized her for believing in such superstitious foolishness if the ligature mark on her neck and lipstick message hadn’t spelled out the enemy’s intentions. The united gender symbols on the mirror, which he’d never seen before, made sense in light of her eerie story.

  Before his brain could process everything, her plea for mercy pierced his heart. Those dual-foundations had screwed up her mind. In venting their protest, the Foursome was confusing her, scaring her.

  “Listen to me.” Isaac took her by the shoulders, hoping she still had some sanity left. “We’re not upset with you. We’re angry at the people who forced this on you.”

  He finally agreed that rape fittingly described the enemy’s attacks. Harassment and bullying—impersonations of foreplay—had been setting the stage for a grand wedding night. If Vétis hadn’t died in the explosion, Isaac would hunt him down as a war criminal.

  Drawing Chiara to his chest, he prayed silently.

  The mother who’d loved her enough to push her off the ship was dead. Chiara had no family. No home. No belongings. Nothing. And the delayed shock of discovering her family’s secrets had to be playing on her shame. No doubt Dr. Caedis’s insidious voyeurism and altar-exploits inflamed the situation. This was too much for anyone to endure alone.

  “You haven’t lost us.” Isaac made her look at him. “You were divinely brought here, Chiara. It was no accident.”

  “Don’t condemn yourself for what the Lux wanted to do to you,” Sabio added.

  “We’re still on your side.” Akiko’s rash glistened with tears.
r />   Jase blinked his bloodshot eyes. “Lord Vétis was the freak. Not you.”

  Isaac hoped she could receive their compassion despite her distress.

  Easing away from him, she picked at the blood-crusted grooves on her wrist. “I’ll be nineteen tomorrow.” Agony lurked in her croaky voice. “Vétis said the prince would find me no matter where I was.”

  On the eve of my birthday … Isaac lifted a tear off her cheek as righteous anger drove him to his feet.

  She started to follow.

  Jase pulled her back. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, princess. We won’t let anyone hurt you. Promise.”

  Hearing fresh waves of weeping, Isaac looked down expecting to see her huddled in the corner.

  She was clinging to Jase’s shirtfront, letting him hold her.

  Protection didn’t exist on Omeàla for any woman. Isaac was convinced of that. He doubted anyone had ever treated Chiara with compassion. For the first time in her life, she was around people who cared. Around men she could trust.

  He scrubbed the lipstick off the mirror. “Hell’s bride is not what you were meant to be.” Determined to preserve what dignity she might have left, he handed her a fistful of tissues.

  Confessing had clearly put her through a living nightmare. She needed to mend. While she soaked through ten tissues, he coordinated a strategy.

  What had his dad taught him?

  Isaac poked her foot with his bare toes. “The enemy lost his hold on you up on Mt. Merhamet. Do you believe that?”

  Dabbing her already dry face, she peeked up at him then lowered her head. Human confession and therapy alone didn’t cut it. She needed supernatural intervention.

  As leader of the Foursome, Isaac knew what they needed to do. Trusting his friends to follow his example, he hunkered down and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Lord, heal Chiara’s mind, body, and emotions. Give her strength to get through this.”

  Sabio touched her head. “Break off any remaining chains around her spirit. Completely obliterate the Lux curse.”

  She exhaled heavily.

  Placing his hand on her back, Akiko sniffled. “Help her understand Your destiny for her.”

  Phase I of her new life was already completed. Isaac found his smile.

  Jase wrapped his hand over hers. “Just being yourself pleases God. You’re wired exactly how He meant you to be.”

  The next few minutes of silence freshened the room with strength. Peace buttressed Isaac’s mood.

  “You win,” she said. “I believe in spiritual stuff.”

  “Stank.” Jase shook his head. “You were tough to convince.”

  She giggled. “You guys are unreal. Is this what friends do?”

  It’s what spiritual superheroes do. “Yep.” Isaac marveled at how God had this vacation planned out before they did.

  If simple acts of respect and honor could affect one girl, even transform her, then how many other people could Isaac influence? He now believed in the powerful conspiracy of kindness.

  Wishing he had a stealthy means of watching for Dr. Caedis, he inconspicuously double-checked the locks on both entrances before lumbering into the bunkroom. He decorated the floor with his clothes, switched off the lamp, and plunked down on his bunk. Exhausted to the max.

  Sabio yawned loudly. “I can’t even begin to calculate the planning or finances necessary to run the type of underground operation she described.”

  The scope of the Lux’s undertaking astounded Isaac, too.

  “Forget the deceased,” Akiko whispered. “Dr. Psycho’s here and on the prowl. Why aren’t we guarding the living room?”

  “That would make her suspicious. She’s suffering enough.” Aware of the ache in his own heart, Isaac imagined Chiara was hurting much more over her losses. “Don’t scare her with news of a stalker.”

  A faint knock at the bunkroom door caused a rustling of bed covers.

  He lifted his head off the pillow. “Is that you, princess?”

  “Affirmative,” seeped through the crack.

  Isaac turned on the lamp and propped himself on an elbow. “Come on in.”

  The door opened haltingly. Chiara stood at the threshold with a sheet wrapped around her, concealing all but a sliver of the pajama top and shorts. Her toes massaged the carpet. Her chocolate eyes zipped back and forth. On her forehead, the brownish-blue lump from the collision with the door stood out as another battle scar.

  With all the action, Isaac had forgotten to give her an icepack. “Everything okay?”

  Pinkness shimmied up her cheeks. “Can’t sleep.”

  Don’t alarm her. His heart raced. “Hearing voices?”

  Shaking her head no, she slouched against the doorframe.

  Isaac checked the digital alarm on the dresser. Eleven o’clock. One more hour to the appointed time of union with the ex-fiancé from hell. “Afraid to be alone?”

  Her head bobbled a definite yes.

  Doh! Call me Homer Simpson. The enemy’s scheme had plagued Chiara throughout the interrogation, and Isaac hadn’t thought to question why she kept asking for the time.

  He visually consulted with Sabio in the bunk above Akiko. Should they ask her to stay in their room? It might give her peace of mind, but considering her obvious discomfort around men, would she even consent to the offer?

  Sabio’s gaze signaled approval before it traveled to Chiara. “Do you want to campout with us tonight?”

  “I’ll get my bedding.” She scurried away.

  Jase whipped a pillow across the room. “Party time.”

  Throwing off his bed sheet, Isaac grabbed his shorts off the floor and put them on. He tossed a shirt up at Jase. “Cover the bruise.”

  He didn’t want Chiara worrying about the massive discoloration on the musician’s chest. The force that assaulted her had soundly walloped his friend, possibly cracking a rib.

  Dragging the long couch cushion and a pillow past the first set of bunks, she dodged the airborne pillows and set up camp in the middle of the room.

  Isaac bombed her with a pillow.

  “Hey!” She tossed it back then ran and shut the bunkroom door. She dove onto the cushion, enfolded herself in the sheet, and peeked out from under it. “Do you guys always spar at bedtime?”

  “Only when a princess is present.” Jase hurled another pillow.

  Her nose twitched. “I smell lavender.”

  Isaac chuckled at the cranky-faced Hispanic placing his vial of oil back on the dresser. “That means we’ve given Sabio a headache.”

  Seeing the scholar discreetly slide his Swiss Army knife under his pillow, Isaac decided his own pocketknife was staying in his pocket for the remainder of the week.

  He reached for the lamp but couldn’t turn it off. Captivated by the woman stretched out under the sheet with her eyes just visible enough to roam the room, he sighed.

  She’s so cute like that. Pillow in hand, he rose.

  Her eyes locked on him.

  “Get up.” Why hadn’t he thought of this earlier? “We’re switching places.”

  “What?” She pulled the sheet away from her face.

  He pushed her shoulder with his foot. “Get up or I’ll drag you over there.” He pictured himself dragging her to the bunk by her feet in the same way he’d dragged her away from the cliff that afternoon.

  “I’m fine down here.”

  Jase threw a sock at her. “Never argue with a tired Isaac.”

  She speed-crawled to the bottom bunk and slithered under the bedcover.

  Bringing over her pillow, Isaac tossed it on her face. He turned off the lamp and rolled onto the hard couch cushion with a grunt. “Sweet dreams, Peppermint Patty.”

  “You rock, Chuck.”

  If satisfaction were made of light, Isaac’s grin would have blinded his roommates.

  “You rock, Chuck,” whispered Jase, Sabio, and Akiko, muffling their snickers.

  Good grief.

  War broke out around the perimeter of the bungal
ow. Fallen angels exchanged blows with heavenly sentinels. The Prince of the Air had no intentions of abandoning his crusade or his maiden. If not today, then tomorrow. No matter how long it took, he would reclaim Riki Hammad.

  Chapter 49

  Wednesday, May 30

  Vétis awoke in a vindictive mood. He swiveled the crick out of his neck and buttoned his ragged dress shirt. Hatred had time to fester during the short night spent at the side of the bungalow.

  Subdued footsteps left through the front door. He supposed the simple-minded mongrels were sneaking Riki out.

  You can’t hide her.

  Asinine mortals. They had no doubt informed her of Dr. Caedis, a name that would mean nothing to her. Since she hadn’t seen him, he still had the advantage.

  Vétis swept the sand off his soiled clothing and climbed over the railing to the backdoor. Surprised to find it unlocked, he stole inside. Malodorous ashes of warfare fouled his nostrils as he crossed the living room. Evidence of treason. Payment was due.

  He rummaged through the bathroom storage closet. No longer concerned if they found anything missing, he pocketed necessities.

  Duct tape. String. A satchel.

  Benzene hexachloride? Reading the product label, Vétis smiled at the possibilities. Suffering. Death. “Behold my cunning, beloved prince.”

  Stopping by the kitchen to restock his supply of matches, he noticed a vial of oil and a bottle of herbal tablets on the counter. He conjured up an image of Goatee—lynched. Sabio would be the first to suffer.

  No. The Asian traitor must fill the first grave.

  Since each mongrel had an appointment with affliction, Vétis decided the method mattered more than the order of victims.

  Let them fall as fate willed.

  Carrying his assigned food items, Isaac entered the bungalow with his friends. Seven-thirty was generally too early to deal with consciousness after a day like yesterday, but party-man Jase had woken them up with a brilliant idea. Armed with one of the two-ways, Isaac had stayed close enough to monitor the deck for psychotic intruders.