Sweet Desire, Wicked Fate

by Wray Ardan

  With the flashlight guiding her way, Jaden followed Datura and Anders into the tunnel. In the second cavern, Datura took the flashlight from Jaden and aimed it into the middle of the room. Jaden pretended she didn’t know what she was looking at.

  “You brought me all the way out here to show me a pile of dirty laundry?”

  “It’s yer sister, dummy.” Datura strutted over and kicked Ava in the gut.

  Jaden laughed. “She looks dead.”

  “So, this is funny to ya?” Datura kicked Ava again.

  “Well, I didn’t expect to see her in here.” Jaden lied. “That’s what I’d call bad karma.”

  Judging from Datura’s expression, she’d never heard of karma.

  “You know, ‘what goes around comes around,’ ‘the golden rule,’ ‘do unto others.’ ” Jaden stomped over to Datura and took back her flashlight. “The princess deserves whatever she gets. You’d be blown away by how mean she is.” She paused. “Well, no, you wouldn’t be. The two of you have a lot in common.”

  “What do ya mean? I ain’t no princess.”

  Anders sniggered and stepped back into the tunnel before Datura could swat him.

  “Yeah, you are,” Jaden insisted. “You both have a hateful streak. You’d shrivel up and die if you couldn’t be mean and nasty.” As she looked at the crumpled figure on the ground, it was strangely easy for her to act detached. “She’s not as bad as you, but she can hold her own. Once, when we were kids, my dad was going to punish me for some lame-ass thing I’d done. Ava jumped around all excited shouting, ‘Kill her, Dad, kill her! Come on, kill her!’ He told me to go outside and play. I guess he decided that my having to live with Ava was punishment enough.” Her jaw tightened as she stared down at her sister. “It all sounds so sappy now. I was a wimp and she thrived on pushing me around.”

  Jaden questioned why she’d told Datura anything. She should have let go of it a long time ago. But how do you love someone who has spent years tearing you down? When their dad died, she’d thought their grief would bring her and Ava closer together. But it put even more of a wedge between them. While Jaden’s heart felt battered, vulnerable to the world, Ava’s became an empty shell.

  The idea of forgiveness darted through her mind, but she instantly dismissed it. “If you’re going to murder her, I want her fully awake. I want to see the terror on her face. Payback for all the years she mistreated me—and for lying to me about Briz.”

  “Ya is not so dumb and mousy after all,” Datura crooned as if she was going to start singing a Broadway song. “Not like I thought ya was.”

  “Yeah, well you are.” Jaden’s testy response caused Datura to chirr with pleasure. “So, this is what you dragged me all the way out here for? Did you think you were going to have to intimidate me into submission? Have you forgotten? My emotions are dried up now, like yours. So, what do you want me to do with her?”

  “I got yer mom here, too.” Datura giggled like a schoolgirl. “I been thinkin’ ‘a feedin’ ‘em to the gators. I thought ya should be here for the auspicious occasion.”

  Auspicious occasion? Violet was right. Datura is smarter than she lets on.

  Datura’s words were meant to be uplifting. Instead, seeing her mom, Jaden’s grisly attitude collapsed as her conscience shut down her vengeful ideas. Compassion reared up, squelching the urge to be cruel.

  Compassion for who, though?

  She craved her tonic. It brought out the best in her, accelerating her transformation. Vacillating between her loyalties to the Mal Rous and to her mom and sister, she felt drops of sweat creep down her forehead. Pressing her palm firmly against her brow, Jaden wiped the sweat away, wishing the act would remove her confusion. She felt like an addict going through drug withdrawal. If she could just slug down an entire bottle of her drink, she knew it would help her think more clearly. She reached in her pocket and grasped her father’s knife, squeezing it as if to invoke his spirit and ease her confusion. Should she save her family or not?

  Earlier, Jaden had been so certain about her choice.

  Feed them to the gators. A burst of energy raced up her spine, and her body shivered as if desperate to reconnect with her old self. That comforting feeling she’d had earlier, of her drink snuggling around her brain, was fighting a losing battle against the sweet girl she had been so happy to abandon. Pointing the flashlight down at Datura’s face, Jaden felt like a marionette that the Mal Rou had been manipulating with invisible strings, not only moving her arms and legs, but also controlling her thoughts.

  “Yer not as tough as ya act,” Datura smirked. “But ya will be … ya will be. Ya is doin’ better than I thought ya was gonna with only a little ‘a my blood.”

  “What are you wasting my time for? They’re already half dead.” Jaden flicked the beam of light over their bodies. “If you want to get some kind of a reaction out of me, stop drugging them with your venom.”

  Looking at her mother and sister, the unbearable thought of losing them settled in.

  She aimed the flashlight directly into Datura’s eyes, blinding her. Pulling the knife from her pocket Jaden kept it concealed in her hand as she flipped the lever, releasing the blade.

  “Rip into them when they’re conscious!” As Jaden spoke, she kneeled next to Ava and tucked the knife into her sister’s palm. “Let’s have some real fun.”

  With all of her strength, Jaden slapped Ava’s face. “You’ve always been a raging bitch.” Then she slapped her mother as hard as she could. Inside, Jaden was screaming, Come on, wake up, wake up and get out of here!

  Some part of her still knew that she loved her mom and sister, and that they loved her. Even Ava … she hoped.

  CHAPTER 43

  Was it really such a good idea to let Jaden go meet the Mal Rous at the shack on her own? Briz was having serious second thoughts about their plan as he sat in the car.

  Part of him thought he should call the authorities. But he knew they wouldn’t listen to his crazy story. They’d think he was just some smartass kid feeding them a line of bull. Until he and Jaden could get their hands on the Mal Rous, no one was going to believe the monsters were real. Even then, the triplets were worried that the authorities might hand the Mal Rous over to another mad scientist. For now he’d stick with the plan.

  He had to remind himself that of all their idiotic ideas for capturing the Mal Rous, this one was the best the triplets and Violet could come up with. And it was the only one he and Jaden had been willing to try. He locked the car doors, then silently laughed at himself as he rolled the windows down so he wouldn’t suffocate.

  For the millionth time, Briz questioned his decision to follow Jaden into the field that night and to race into the shack despite what he saw through the door. He could have turned and run.

  “I hardly know her.” He looked into his eyes in the rear-view mirror. “But I know how she makes me feel.”

  Love. His lips barely moved as he mouthed the word. He stared at his reflection as his heart swelled with acceptance.

  “I love her,” he whispered. “That’s why I’m doing this.”

  At that moment, passion, desire, lust … love, it was starting to feel like a form of mental illness. Why else would he be sitting here waiting for Jaden’s call. A call that would send him into a dangerous situation. The thought didn’t help the nervousness that was taking root in his stomach. Jaden had been acting strange all morning. Then again, lately, what exactly was normal for her? His new girlfriend was currently possessed by wild beasties. Wild beasties with attitude.

  A heavy silence surrounded him. He imagined the ghosts of slaves and sharecrop workers wandering through the abandoned fields. He wanted to start the car, turn the air on high, listen to music, and distract himself from the heebie-jeebies that were taking over his thoughts. He surrendered to the fact that he had to be quiet. Who knows how keen their hearing is?

  Every word he’d read about the Mal Rous, all the stories Violet had told him, were fresh in his mind, i
ncluding their names, appearance, how they preferred to hunt in pairs, and each of their “specialties.” It was vital for him to stay alert, but as he rested his head against the back of the seat, the stillness and heat weighed his eyelids down.

  Briz woke to the sound of his own voice crying out like a wounded soldier on his deathbed. His head snapped up as wiry feelers gouged his neck. He gasped, and his breath became caught in his lungs. He couldn’t exhale, and he couldn’t take in more air as he looked at Ivan standing on the seat beside him.

  “That’s enough, Tig. We gotta stash him before Datura comes.”

  Tig’s tendrils pulled free. Her high-pitched voice shrilled in Briz’s ear. “What ‘bout that girl? Datura said she’d be with him.”

  “Yeah, well she ain’t.” Ivan slid his claws up Briz’s arm as if searching for a nice tender spot to bite. “Start the car and drive to the house.”

  A distant voice in Briz’s head was telling him to throw Tig and Ivan out of the car and speed away, but the voice faded as Tig’s poison turned his brain into a sponge that squeezed mind-numbing fluids through his entire body.

  “Start the car!” Ivan said again, swatting him.

  Briz’s limbs felt detached from his torso as he pressed the ignition button and pushed his foot down on the accelerator. Ivan’s claws wrapped around his wrist, while Tig remained sprawled over the back of the seat, her feelers caressing Briz’s face.

  Arriving at the estate, Briz had just enough reasoning ability left to know that it was his last chance to make a run for it, but he didn’t have the physical capability to actually try. Ivan shut off the engine while Tig climbed into Briz’s lap, stretching up as if to kiss him. He was jolted out of his fog as her feelers sank back into his neck.

  The next thing Briz knew, afternoon sun had replaced morning light and the humidity was even more oppressive. He was sprawled on the ground next to his car, his face smashed into the gravel. His wrists were bound tightly behind his back, and his feet were loosely tied together.

  “Put this here over his eyes.” Wielding a ten-inch boning knife, Ivan cut off a strip of Briz’s shirt. “He don’t need to see where we’s takin’ him.”

  Tig wrapped the cloth around Briz’s head, ripping out hunks of his hair as she tied a knot.

  “Stand up,” she said, kicking him in his ribs, laughing when he curled up in a protective ball. “Oh, he wants his mommy. We should go get her for him.”

  The thought of his mother being hurt pained Briz more than Tig’s physical abuse. Raising himself to a standing position, he tried to twist his hands free from the ropes. He stopped when Ivan pressed the tip of the knife into his tailbone, driving him forward. Briz shuffled along until Tig tripped him, intentionally making him stumble and fall. With shrieks of joy, his captors yelled at him to get up. Then his hunting knife was ripped from his belt loop.

  “Well.” Ivan slobbered on Briz excitedly. “Ain’t this a pretty thin’.”

  Ivan’s saliva singed Briz’s arms. Blisters popped out of his skin while at the same time boring deep into his muscles. Briz hauled himself onto his knees. Before he could stand, Tig looped a coarse rope around his neck and tugged on it, forcing him to follow her. His shins scraped the gravel as he shimmied along like a blindfolded animal being led to slaughter.

  If they’re doing this to me, what have they done to Jade?

  A door opened and damp, stale air filled his lungs. A harder yank on the rope caused Briz to topple forward, his chin grinding into the dirt floor. Rolling onto his side, he raised himself back up. The Professor had kept the Mal Rous hidden in the garage cellar. Briz assumed that was where they were taking him now. Tig pulled on his leash. Wobbling forward, Briz heard another set of door hinges groaning—a guttural sound—raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

  “Watch yer step,” Ivan said, cheerfully. With a shove, he sent Briz tumbling down a flight of wooden stairs.

  Lying crumpled on the ground, Briz wanted to sob, but wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. They yelled at him to stand up again. Ivan’s claw struck his face, gouging it beneath his eye; he could feel blood bubbling up.

  “No! Not his face.” Briz heard the impact as Tig swatted Ivan. “He’s pretty. In fact—” Tig crawled onto Briz’s chest. Her tongue slinked across his face like an eel dipped in warm olive oil, lapping up drops of blood as they slid down his cheek. “Yum.” Licking Briz’s lips, she tried to poke her tongue into his tightly sealed mouth. Giving up, she moved her tongue along his jaw, gyrating it into his ear. Briz thought he would vomit.

  “Enough Tig!” Ivan knocked her off of Briz. “Ya can play with him later.”

  They didn’t have to yell or smack Briz any more. He willed himself to stand.

  “Move it.” Ivan pushed the knife into Briz’s tailbone. “Tig, open the lid. Hurry up! I don’t want to be here all day.” Ivan’s slobber spread across Briz’s legs, raising fresh welts to match the ones on his inflamed arms.

  Briz stopped moving forward when his knees hit the edge of a wood crate. His muscles tensed as Ivan’s knife dug in deeper.

  “Do it now Ivan … do it now,” Tig chirped.

  The sensation of Ivan’s fangs touching Briz’s leg, lingering on the arteries behind his knees, signaled what was coming. His skin popped as Ivan’s fangs dug in. The venom flowed into Briz’s body as if Ivan were pumping gasoline into an oil tanker. Tig chomped into his other leg as if it were a piece of fried chicken. Briz went weak from the pain. Ivan’s teeth disengaged from Briz’s flesh, his tongue hovering over the wounds as if he wanted to strike again. Briz tumbled into darkness as Tig’s fangs pulled free from his calf.

  When Briz regained consciousness, he thought he was dreaming. Then the sensation of a noose cinched around his neck made him weep. A dream would be nice. Night terrors would be nice. This is real. He had no idea how long he’d been there. Minutes, hours, days. Filled with poison. Slowly dying.

  Convulsions rocked his contorted body as he shifted onto his back. He tried to extend his legs, to get free of the ropes that bound his wrists and feet, but the wooden box constricted his movements. The poison ivy sores itched to the point of making him want to scream. Sweat seeped from his pores; he felt like an egg being poached. Concern for Jaden, pain, and intense thirst kept him conscious. He had to will himself to pass out again.

  CHAPTER 44

  The trip back through the bayou had been excruciatingly long. Jaden was thirsty; she craved her drink. Tying up the boat, she ran all the way to the shack and grabbed a bottle of her tonic. A voice in her head repeatedly said, don’t drink it.

  Her body won.

  It didn’t take long to get used to it again, and find enjoyment in the way it slithered down, filling her lungs, then settling in her belly. By the time she finished off two bottles, Jaden’s confusion was gone. She knew where her loyalties lay. She was pleased with herself for convincing Datura that her mother and sister should be coherent when the Mal Rous tortured them.

  What was wrong with me, leaving my knife with Ava? Why would I want to give her a chance to escape from Anders?

  She looked down at Datura, ready to confess, but didn’t.

  Anders will be fine. He’d keep guard at the cave until the games began in two days. By then, the women would be fully awake. And the fun could start.

  “Let’s go,” Datura said, interrupting Jaden’s thoughts. Lugging the pack, Jaden followed her.

  The two of them walked silently along the road toward the mansion. A purr rumbled from Datura’s chest. Jaden sighed, knowing that Datura was pleased with her progress. So was she. Jaden found the changes in her personality liberating. She looked forward to the time when she would no longer need her tonic to help her feel like a Mal Rou.

  Standing in front of the estate’s massive gate, a powerful sense of pride welled up in Jaden. It was a pride Datura had always felt. This was the home of Jaden’s grandfather, the brilliant man who excelled in genetic engineering. In the 1940s, while other sci
entists were arguing about DNA structure, he’d already begun experimenting with cloning. He achieved far more than his so-called colleagues were even beginning to understand at the time.

  “Stinky magnolia blossoms,” Jaden grumbled, as she opened the gate.

  As they neared the manor Jaden recoiled at the sight of Briz’s car. “What’s he doing here?”

  “It’s all right.” Datura’s words were like a cool, calming liquid flowing over Jaden. “If Ivan and Tig did what I told ‘em, he won’t be botherin’ ya no more.”

  Glugging down the dregs of her tonic, Jaden opened Briz’s car door, tossed the empty bottle inside, and grabbed three full ones. Then she strutted into the house after Datura.

  CHAPTER 45

  There was a painful rumble in Ava’s head, as if a semi truck was parking in it. Her eyes were sealed together. When she cracked them open, all she saw was blackness. A droning hum filled her ears. She tried to lift her arms up, but they were a numb, heavy weight, wrenched behind her. Gagging on something that was stuffed in her mouth, she felt sores on her lips. She spat out a rag and relished the sensation of her saliva glands kicking in, filling her mouth with moisture.

  Where the hell am I? Ava stared into the dark emptiness. As her pupils dilated, the room expanded into layers of gray. She couldn’t understand where she was, or what had happened. Then it hit her as if someone had sucker-punched her in the gut; she remembered finding Rick dead in his truck, being kidnapped by strange mutant aliens, and dropped into a cave.

  This can’t be happening to me. Lying there, helpless, she surrendered to the fact that this was real. And for the first time ever, Ava prayed.

  She prayed that her mother was alive. Prayed that someone would save them. Her prayers were followed by an all-consuming feeling of panic. Her life had never been threatened before. She wanted to cry the way she had when she’d hidden in her bedroom on the day she learned her father died. Another part of her wanted to fight. Her aching, bruised muscles convulsed, sending a prickling sensation swarming over her numb hands and feet. Her body lurched backward, bumping a lifeless form.