Sweet Desire, Wicked Fate

by Wray Ardan

  “Okay, I know, real funny.” Jaden handed the jar to her mom. “So what is this, anyway? Are you sure it’s okay? There’s no expiration date, and it doesn’t say what’s in it.”

  “Fresh cow dung is my guess.” Ava laughed.

  “Ava.” Brooke’s nose crinkled as she turned away from Jaden.

  “She asked,” Ava said, picking up the car keys. “I bet it works really well at keeping off mosquitoes. Flies, fleas, boys… .”

  Brooke turned the jar around. “Dr. Schilling said the formula was originally made when there was an outbreak of poison ivy 50 years ago.”

  “Well, it smells like it was made back then,” Jaden grumbled.

  “I’m sure it’s fine, Jade. The doctor said it’s all natural ingredients.” Brooke smiled as she set the jar on the counter. “I want you to stay home and rest. I need you feeling better so you can help us soon.”

  “Yeah, stinky-pinky, please stay inside, or you’ll scare the landlady’s dog.” Ava eyed Jaden. “Though I’d glob it all over myself if it meant I could stay here instead of sweating under those ancient fans with a bunch of grungy carpenters.”

  “I bought floor fans, too!” Brooke replied.

  “Like they really help.” Ava opened the door, ushering in a blast of heat. “Oh, lovely!” she said, walking out to the car.

  “Mom.” Jaden peered out from behind her mask of pink cream. “What I told you earlier? I wasn’t making it up.”

  “Jade, the sooner you accept that we’re going to be here at least another month, the better off we’ll all be. Forgive your sister. I’m sorry Briz asked her out instead of you. But be mad at him, not her.” Her mother closed the door.

  Asked her out? More like jumped her bones.

  “So much for running away,” Jaden complained to the empty house. “Now what? The Mal Rous’ beloved Professor is probably six feet under, and we’ll be joining him in a few days.”

  She turned on her laptop, intent on learning all she could about Belle Fleur and the poison ivy outbreak or anything that would help save herself and her family—only to remember that their computer-illiterate landlady didn’t have high-speed internet. Snapping the computer shut, she stalked out to the driveway, propped herself up against the garage in a small patch of shade, crossed her legs, and tapped into the neighbor’s Wi-Fi.

  There were 409,000 listings that included the words Belle Fleur, but not one for this Belle Fleur. Great! There’s nothing listed about this skanky town. This place probably doesn’t even exist in the real world. I swear I’ve crossed over into some kind of alternate reality.

  Her mental ranting caused her poison ivy rashes and the small punctures in her ankle to burn and itch. She typed in Tig’s specialty, “spurges plant,” and 65 pages of listings appeared. Clicking on the first one, she quickly browsed the site. The words inflammation, paralysis, and death leaped off the page at her.

  “I can’t do this! What am I—”

  Jaden’s head jerked up. Something was calling her name in a screechy voice. Jumping to her feet and clutching the laptop, she raced for the house.

  She dead-bolted the door. She doubted that any barrier would keep the Mal Rous out if they were determined to get her. There was a loud knocking, and the harsh voice called again. Her heartbeat echoed the frantic banging on the door. She shivered from fear and from the air-conditioner’s icy vapor. She tried to decide which scenario would be worse—letting that Datura monster in and pretending to bravely face her, or getting punished for making Datura force her way in. Standing straight, Jaden opened the door, poised to defend herself as best she could.

  “What’s wrong with ya, girl?” Her landlady stood staring at her. “Actin’ like I’m a shack bully.”

  Jaden snorted. A shack bully? Must be Cajun. It sounds like what Ava will become if she stays in the south too long.

  “It’s just me,” the old woman said, then gave a hearty laugh. “What’s ya got all over ya?”

  Jaden absentmindedly touched her face, and looked at her arms. “Oh, it’s for poison ivy.” The landlady nodded, her head swinging up and down like a seesaw.

  “That’s right, that’s right, I used that when I was a kid. Ya’ll see; it works real fast. Ya gonna be fine in another day. I wanted to tell ya, tomorrow evenin’ I’m leavin’ for New Orleans. I’ll be back in five or six days. I’m takin’ my dog with me. Ask yer mom to grab my mail an’ keep an eye on my place.”

  “Okay, I’ll let her know.”

  When the woman trotted off, Jaden shut the door and locked it. Sinking onto the cold tiles, she wondered if there was anyone who’d lived in town back in the 1950s who Ivan hadn’t spit on. She closed her eyes wishing that when she opened them Louisiana and everything that was happening there would turn out to have been a bad dream. Leaning her head back, she peeked through slits in her eyes and moaned. She was still there. Grappling with thoughts of the Mal Rous—and of Briz with Ava—Jaden knew it was going to be a long day, and an even longer night, with images of all of them stuck in her head.

  CHAPTER 6

  The weight of the fallen branch pinned Violet’s leg down, holding her captive like an animal. If only she’d die before the Mal Rous decided to torture her, she thought. That would truly infuriate them and ruin their fun.

  They’d always hated her for being a Bellibone, so different from them. In their minds, she was weak.

  She lay there remembering the first day the Professor had brought his precious Mal Rous to his cellar to live. He’d claimed that by combining his own DNA with that of a variety of predator strains, he’d be giving his newest creations a better survival rate than the less aggressive species from his earlier experiments with rabbit, deer, nasturtiums, and violets. To the Professor’s dismay, as the Mal Rous grew they became more cruel, and cruelty gave them joy. They took great pleasure in capturing a hummingbird and plucking the feathers from its small frame, beaming with delight and satisfaction as it writhed in agony. After watching it perish, they tossed it aside like a filthy rag.

  Violet knew that some things would never change.

  Her leg was broken and her body weak, but she could hear every word the Mal Rous were saying in the other room. She felt a slight relief to know that their rancor was focused, at the moment, on the girl who had set Tig free.

  “That kid weren’t here yesterday, and she ain’t comin’ today,” Esere was saying. “She ain’t got no idea what we can do to her, or her kin, or this here town.”

  “Quiet, Esere. If she don’t show up, we’ll find her,” Datura said. “She’ll be an easy one to sniff out. It’ll be like the old days, when the Professor would take us to town at night to tease and feed on the locals.”

  Violet thought she detected a tinge of anxiety in Datura’s voice. The Mal Rous had never been on their own. They were probably longing for the security of having the Professor near.

  “Yeah,” Tig mimicked Datura, “to tease and feed on the locals.”

  To feed. Violet’s fears lodged in her chest. She struggled to inhale a deep breath. The Mal Rous were recovering from their dormant state much more quickly than she’d expected. She closed her eyes as Datura entered the kitchen. Datura didn’t walk. She stalked, whether hunting a human, reptile, or Bellibone. Life had always been a fun-filled, bloodthirsty game to her. Inflicting pain was a deeply embedded part of her genetic makeup.

  The Professor had never been able to teach the Mal Rous to restrain their predatory natures. Their caustic bug instincts ruled the pack’s actions. They were both mindless and cunning. They had their rare moments of nurturing—such as the time they’d cared for an orphaned baby opossum until it was old enough to fend for itself—but the Mal Rous were usually heartless.

  Datura stuck her face close to Violet’s. The Bellibone coughed from the offensive odor of the cockroaches Datura had recently fed on.

  “Where are we?”

  Violet didn’t respond.

  “I know ya hear me, runt!” Datura jabbed Violet i
n the arm. “Ya repulsive thin’. Don’t know what the Professor made ya for. Now answer me, or we is gonna fill yer days with misery. What is this here place?”

  “You are in the caretaker’s house. Or what is left of it.” Violet could tell that her well-articulated words rankled Datura, causing the tips of her tentacles to arch and crimp.

  “No way! I ain’t blind.” Datura surveyed the rooms. “This here place is fallen apart. ‘Sides, if this is the caretaker’s house, where’s his boy? Where’s all his stuff?”

  “Don’t you remember? After the five of you brutalized the little boy, they moved away.”

  “What ‘bout the Professor’s wife? She would’a stuck someone else in here to do her chores.”

  “She left a long time ago.”

  “The old slug took off, did she?” A sardonic grin fanned across Datura’s face. “Then where’s our Professor Dekle?”

  “You asked me last night, and the night before. My answer is the same.” Violet exhaled her floral breath in Datura’s face.

  Datura’s nostrils contracted, trying to avoid the sweet smell. Raising her hand, she scraped a claw over the Bellibone’s chin, drawing a thin line of blood. “Well, I’m askin’ ya again. Where is he? He was comin’ back for us.”

  “I presume he is deceased.” Turning away from Datura even slightly caused spasms to shoot down the length of Violet’s ensnared body.

  “How long was we buried for?” Datura shrieked. “Answer me! How long was we buried for?” She snatched a handful of Violet’s hair, yanking her head back.

  “A little more than fifty years.”

  “That’d mean our Professor probably is dead.” Anders spoke from the doorway. The meaning of his own words struck him, and he staggered back as if Violet had thrown a spear at his chest.

  “So we is all alone?” Tig took hold of Anders’s hand as she and Ivan entered the kitchen.

  Violet observed her strange family of mentally depraved human rats and lizards. She knew how dependent they were on the Professor. He’d been their father figure, their only emotional compass.

  Datura had become uncharacteristically quiet. Her oversized nose pulsed as if it were a beating heart. Her tentacles extended, needing to satiate their hunger with blood, or inject their toxic poisons into a victim. Violet waited for the wormy strands to strike, to dig into her carcass. Her eyes locked with Datura’s as the rodent gulped in air to calm her restless tentacles.

  Apparently now was not a good time for Violet to die.

  “Ya chumps.” Ivan stepped forward, his slobber cascading onto the floor. “Y’all trust that Bellibone? She just suckered y’all in.”

  “He’s right. Why we listenin’ to her?” Esere pushed past Datura. “We should pluck out her eyeballs while she’s alive.” He flicked his claws in Violet’s face. “’Sides, why weren’t she buried, too?”

  Violet closed her eyes.

  “Look at me, ya sissy!” Datura demanded, squeezing a clump of her less complacent tentacles and sending thick globs of yellow gel onto the floor. “Why wasn’t ya buried? The Professor, he filled up jugs for all ‘a us.”

  The Mal Rous leered at Violet, clearly hoping her answer would give them an excuse to strike her.

  “After he had you situated, the Professor thought it best that I remain …” Violet caught the word free on the tip of her tongue. “He decided that I should keep guard, so no one would find you, and you would be safe.” She couldn’t tell them that she had escaped from the mad man they worshipped. “Have you forgotten, Datura? He’s one of you now. He’ll probably live forever.”

  Violet paused, glancing at each of the Mal Rous. “It hasn’t really been fifty years. I only said that to upset you. It’s probably been merely nine or ten years,” she lied. “I have no doubts that girl will bring him here to you today.”

  “I ain’t buyin’ it.” Datura’s eyes narrowed. “This here place weren’t rottin’ the last time we seen it. And ya ain’t so young lookin’ no more.”

  “The house was fine prior to when lightning struck the tree.” Violet tried to deliver her deceitful words smoothly. “If you release me, I … I might know where to find him.”

  “Ya is lyin’.” Datura slapped her, leaving a palm print on Violet’s pale cheek.

  “Enough ‘a this.” Ivan marched to the front door. “I ain’t sittin’ around waitin’ for that kid. I’m goin’ up to the house. Gonna look for the Professor myself. We should’a done that yesterday.”

  Datura put her arm on the branch. Bearing down with all her weight, she grinned at Violet. “Hurt much?” She laughed and turned to follow Ivan outside, the others tagging behind.

  “Let’s get goin’,” Ivan spoke loudly from the porch, obviously wanting Violet to hear. “We can eat on the way. Scrounge up a few rats for ya to suck a drink from, Datura. If that mousey girl’s here when we get back, she can be our main course.” Snickering, he added, “Right after we hack apart the Bellibone.”

  CHAPTER 7

  It was mid-morning and the heat was sweltering. The so-called miracle ointment on Jaden’s sores reminded her of cherry sorbet as it dripped from her oozing blisters and merged with her perspiration.

  She stashed her bicycle at the head of the path and trudged through the maze of vegetation toward the shack, mimicking one of the hot babes in a Final Fantasy video game, trying to psyche herself up and figure out what to do. If only it really were all cyber simulation, and not her own personal tale of horror.

  “Maybe those demonic mutants won’t be mad that I didn’t show up yesterday. Or the house will be empty and I’ll see that I just imagined it all. Or if I ignore them, they’ll find someone else to torment.” She swiped her hand through a large spider web as she said, “That’s never worked with Ava. Why would it work with the Mal Rous?”

  She reached the house sooner than she would have liked. Stepping out from the protection of the foliage, she became aware of the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest. She had to quell her urge to dash back into the plants. Her body jerked up the stairs with robotic motions as the nerves of steel she’d had on the trail turned into a puddle of Gerber baby food. Chicken, to be exact.

  “Hello?” Her voice and legs quivered. “I brought some food.”

  There was no answer. Only the draguitoes relentlessly buzzed around her trying to find their way through the ointment. Taking off her backpack, Jaden dumped a partially eaten jar of peanut butter on the porch.

  “Well, here’s to a perfect day for meeting up with miniature savages.”

  Her words were soft as she opened the door and paused, waiting for it to fall off its hinges.

  When it didn’t, she walked into the decrepit dwelling. A poorly filmed animal documentary began streaming in her head, flashing gory images of cheetahs pouncing on gazelles and tearing them to shreds. Jaden teetered back on her heels. She was the gazelle. Scanning the room, she peered into the dark corners expecting to see a Mal Rou looking back at her.

  No. Vengeful killing vermin don’t really exist.

  She tiptoed into the kitchen and stared at the very real creature that lay pinned under a branch of the huge tree. Setting her pack down, Jaden picked up a stick and pointed it at the small pixie-like thing. Its eyelids fluttered open, and it looked at her wrinkling its petite nose.

  “Is that because of Ivan?”

  As it spoke in a soft feminine voice, the subtle fragrance of violets floated through the room.

  “What?” After a moment Jaden realized that the creature was looking at the fuchsia cream coating her skin. “Oh. It’s supposed to heal the poison ivy.”

  “Yes,” it said. “I’m sure that Ivan has missed infecting unsuspecting humans.”

  Jaden considered that the ointment might be the one thing that could keep her safe. Nothing would want to bite her through that stuff. Still, she kept her stick aimed at the creature.

  “Jaden?” it said. “Is that correct?”

  Jaden nodded nervously.

 
; “As you can see, my relatives are not here.”

  “Your re-relatives … ?” Jaden stumbled over her words. “The—the Mal Rous called you a … what was it? A Bellibone? They sounded like they hated you.”

  “Yes, it is true. We are different. And they are quite hostile toward me.”

  “Hostile? They wanted you dead.”

  “But they are the only family I’ve ever known,” it sighed. “In the past I tried to set our differences aside, though they have always, and will always, consider me their enemy.”

  “It’s the same way with me and my sister.” Jaden replied.

  “My name is Violet.”

  Of course it is. Jaden breathed in the pixie’s floral scent and eyed the purple jumpsuit it was wearing.

  The Bellibone seemed to be regarding Jaden with kindness. There was a long silence, as if it wanted to tell Jaden everything was going to be all right, only couldn’t. Jaden suspected that the Bellibone knew nothing in her life would ever be all right again.

  “So, Violet.” Jaden paused, half-wishing the Bellibone would just go poof into thin air. But now Jaden knew her name, which made the Bellibone real. “What are the Mal Rous going to do to me?”

  “You must understand that the Mal Rous love to play games, and humans are their favorite conquests. As you have seen, they do not play nice. And they don’t fight fair. Mostly they enjoy inflicting pain, breathing in the scent of fear. In the past they did not take pleasure in the consumption of human flesh. They have killed once that I know of, though they do not normally put an end to people’s lives. However, that was when the Professor was here to keep them in line.”

  How many have you killed? Biting her lip, Jaden didn’t ask.

  “Do you know where I can find the Professor?”

  Violet shook her head slightly.

  The stagnant air and incessant buzzing of insects was making it hard for Jaden to think. She was positive the pesky bugs were on a mission to eradicate any sanity she had left. Even so, she knew it wasn’t the insects that were really eating at her. She had bigger concerns. Was Violet like the rest of her so-called family? Maybe Violet wasn’t as demure as she was acting—this was a trick to befriend her so she could finish Jaden off on her own.