Sweet Desire, Wicked Fate

by Wray Ardan

  “Mom … Mom?” Her words were quieter than a whisper. Pressing her lips together to stifle the sound of her sobs, Ava repeatedly rocked against her mother, trying to wake her. She kept telling herself that her mom was unconscious, not dead.

  Squeezing her cold fingers together, she stopped as a sharp edge pressed into her palm. A few days ago, Ava would have griped about the discomfort. Now, a wave of relief swept through her. She recognized her dad’s pocketknife. She’d know it anywhere. Hadn’t she spent years hiding it from Jaden, threatening to toss it out, just to upset her sister and see her cry? But how had it gotten into her hands, in this place?

  “Mom.” Ava angled her head toward her mother and spoke softly. “If you can hear me, I’m going to get us out of here.”

  There was no response.

  Holding the blade at an awkward angle, Ava repeatedly slid it across the rope that bound her wrists. The process was tedious, but each slice filled her with determination to survive.

  Her tired fingers cramped, and the knife fell to the ground. Her need to throw a mini-tantrum came and went. She was determined to remain silent. Alive.

  Arching her back, she twisted her body until her fingertips touched the precious blade. Wiggling her fingers, Ava shimmied the knife back into her hands, then continued the arduous task of sawing her way to freedom.

  Her fingers ached from clutching the knife as she finally cut through the last bit of rope, then freed her wrists, and untied her feet.

  Removing the rag from Brooke’s mouth, Ava loosened the bonds from her mother’s hands and ankles, then felt her wrist for a pulse. She couldn’t detect anything. Trying not to panic, she pressed her fingers against the artery on Brooke’s neck. The faint beat gave Ava a heightened appreciation of how irreplaceable her mother was. Lovingly holding Brooke in her arms, Ava began rocking her back into consciousness.

  When Brooke finally took a deep breath, Ava leaned close to her ear. “It’s me, Mama, Ava. Don’t say anything. You aren’t dreaming. We were kidnapped—”

  Her mother nodded slightly.

  “We’re in a cave. I don’t know if anyone else is here. We’re going to find a way out.”

  Ava rubbed her mom’s arms and legs, chasing the numbness out of her limbs until Brooke reached for her hand. Slowly standing, leaning on one another, they steadied themselves. It was all they could do to keep their dehydrated, weak bodies from tumbling back to the ground. Not knowing where their captors might be, they held each other’s hands and moved toward a tunnel, the arched opening hardly visible. Ava led the way, knowing they might be walking right into the monsters’ den, but she wasn’t going to give up without trying to fight for her life.

  The two women tried to quiet their breathing as their fingers skimmed over the slick chiseled walls of the tunnel. A dim light flickered, beckoning them forward with a promise of safety. At the end of the passage they paused. Ava squeezed her mother’s hand, gesturing toward thin shafts of sunshine that filtered down from an opening at the far end of the chamber. Remnants of a rope ladder hung from the ten-foot drop. From the tunnel, they could see no signs of their captors.

  Ava drew Brooke closer. “When I let go of your hand, run for that ladder. No matter what, just get out of here.”

  Their hands slipped apart as they hurried toward the opening.

  Ava made a choking sound and squeezed the hilt of her knife as tiny claws grabbed her calf. Brooke turned back to look at her.

  “Mom, go! Get up the ladder,” Ava shouted, the words painfully rising in her dry throat. “I’m right behind you. GO!”

  Streaks of sunlight showed the beast’s malformed face as his tendrils stabbed into her leg. Thrusting the knife forward, Ava stuck it as far as she could into the creature’s bulging eye. His tendrils pulled from her flesh. She twisted the knife free. The beast stumbled backwards, snarling.

  She ran to the ladder.

  The creature right behind her.

  Jumping up, she grabbed the remains of a wooden rung, the knife blade digging into her fingers. Her legs dangled like bait. Before she could pull herself up, sharp claws dug into her ankles. Glancing down, she saw a massive jaw opening. She screamed as it locked around her foot.

  Her mother’s hands clasped onto her wrists, pulling Ava higher. With her free foot anchored on a rung, Ava gripped the rope and heaved her body from side to side, swinging the ladder, knocking the creature repeatedly against the cavern walls. She cried out as a hunk of flesh was torn from her heel and the beast fell to the ground. Ava stared at him lapping her blood off the floor as if it were raspberry jam.

  “Ava, hurry!”

  They crawled out over the lip of the cave into heat and blinding sunlight.

  Shielding her eyes from the brightness, Brooke looked past Ava and her face contorted. Ava turned to see the creature’s head emerging.

  “You little bastard!” Brooke dropped to her knees and shook the ladder.

  Ava ran the blade of the knife back and forth across the ropes as fast as she could. As she cut through the last strands, the ladder slid from her mother’s hands like a pair of decapitated snakes, dropping with the creature down to the cave floor. They both stared at the opening, as if expecting the barbarian to reappear.

  Then Brooke focused on the knife in Ava’s hand. “How did you get—?”

  Ava shrugged, slipping the knife into her pocket and wiping her hands on her shorts. She didn’t have an answer.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Brooke said in a hoarse voice.

  Ava led the way, limping downhill on a trail she had hazy memories of climbing. Passing the mound of dirt at Esere’s shallow grave, she said, “Guess we’re going in the right direction.”

  “What is that?” Brooke asked.

  “One of those things. You don’t remember burying it?”

  Brooke shook her head.

  “We should make our own path. In case the others show up.” Ava pushed her way into the thicket without waiting for her mother’s reply. Ignoring cuts and scrapes from the branches, she found she had a whole new level of tolerance for pain.

  “The sun is pretty high.” Brooke squinted up at the sky. “It must be close to noon.”

  Ava had forgotten what an outdoorswoman her mom used to be—all those camping trips the family took when her dad was alive.

  They made their way to the brackish water. Ava stared at it and swallowed, wishing it was drinkable.

  “We need to take a look at your foot.” Brooke stopped at a massive bald cypress tree and motioned for Ava to sit.

  Ava had no interest in the bloody, muddy mess sticking to her sandal. She closed her eyes as her mother scooped handfuls of murky water to rinse it. Peeling a strip of bark from the tree, Brooke wrapped it around the wound, securing it in place with the tie from Ava’s straggly ponytail. Then she helped her daughter stand up.

  “Which way?” Ava asked.

  Brooke looked at the flow of the water, then up at the tree tops. “I’m guessing that direction is south. It would be our best chance of finding someone to help us.”

  Ava swore all thirty-nine species of mosquito that lived in Louisiana were lunching on them. At least the bloodsuckers were distracting her from her throbbing foot, the damp clothes sticking to her like a second skin, and the water moccasins undulating through the green water.

  “We’re an easy target.” Ava gestured toward an alligator gliding along. “Especially if those alien things show up in their boat, looking for us.”

  Brooke took Ava’s hand and squeezed it.

  As they headed away from the bayou, she said, “Your sister was telling me the truth, but I didn’t believe her.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Brooke shared the story Jaden had told her about discovering the Mal Rous. She spoke quietly, yet the meaning of what she said was loud and clear to Ava.

  “So this is all Jaden's fault. You’re telling me she freed them?” Ava’s voice cut through the air like a whip cracking
. “It figures. That good-for-nothing … if she’s not already dead, I’m gonna kill her!”

  “Oh, no. She can’t be.” Brooke stopped in her tracks and stared at Ava.

  “Well if she is, it’ll save me the hassle—”

  “Ava, please—”

  “After what she—”

  “Please, Ava, stop it. Now.” The lines in Brooke’s face showed sadness, regret, and anger.

  Ava didn’t care.

  “Mom, look what she’s put us through.”

  “Enough! No more cruelty!” Ava hadn’t expected her mother to have the energy to snap at her. To be so angry. “I love you, Ava. You’re my daughter. And you just saved my life. But Jade’s my daughter, too. And your hostility toward her hurts me as well.” Brooke’s tears mixed with grime, weaving moist patterns on her cheeks. “I realize having a sister has been a great inconvenience to you. From the day Jade was born, you’ve acted like a princess, angry because you’d been dethroned. You’re not a kid anymore. It’s time you stopped.”

  “Why are you amping on me? She hates me, too.”

  “If she does, whose fault is it? Jade adored you until you beat any love she had for you out of her. For her own self-preservation, she learned to cater to you, or to avoid you. And I’m to blame for that, along with your dad. We always told her to let you have your way because it was easier. We were wrong. It wasn’t fair to her. It certainly wasn’t fair to you. It was lazy parenting!”

  Oh, bite me!

  Every muscle in Brooke’s face tightened, as if she heard her daughter’s thoughts. Ava couldn’t care less.

  Her mom was physically and mentally fried, and taking it out on her.

  Well, she was maxed out, too! From the open wound in her foot. From being told she was a bad person, when she’d just saved her mom. From being a pincushion for a pack of mutants spawned in the crud floating in the bayou. From thinking she was going to die. She was stuck in this hellish inferno with bugs swarming over her, all because of Jaden. Every horrible experience they’d been through was because of Jaden. No matter what her mom blamed on her, she couldn’t say any of this was Ava’s fault! It was all because of Jaden baby.

  “Ava, you’re stunning and smart.” Brooke’s tone was sharp, her expression pained. “But that doesn’t entitle you to be a bitch and a bully.”

  “I don’t get it. What’d I do? Why are you so pissed off at me? I didn’t release alien assassins. Jaden did.”

  Brooke eyed her daughter.

  Ava stared back. All I said was that I wanted Jaden dead. I say it all the time. It’s not like I really mean it.

  Without another word Brooke turned and worked her way through the growth. Ava limped after her. They continued in silence.

  Ava had never been so quiet before. She’d always avoided being alone with her thoughts. But she wasn’t about to speak now. Harboring her resentment, she let it grow steadily in her like a tumor. She found it comforting to feel this way.

  Miles later, they entered a grove of ancient bald cypress trees that stood like giant death totems in the black-clay gumbo soil. The ideal place for those little Mal Rou monsters to lurk—to jump out from behind the tree trunks and force them back to the cave, or leave them lying there as food for the vultures. Her foot was swollen. Each step more painful than the last. Without speaking, her mom gestured for her to sit down. Brooke packed mud on the gaping hole in Ava’s heel and attached a fresh hunk of bark to it.

  When the afternoon rains began, Brooke silently showed Ava how to catch raindrops in oversized leaves. The small amounts of the water they dribbled into their mouths only left them thirsty for more.

  At last they came to an overgrown sugar cane field, and Ava knew they had reached the outer edge of their plantation. It was the most wonderful sight she’d ever seen. Her mom sighed and took hold of her hand. Misshapen smiles appeared on their tired faces. Leaving their angry words behind them, Ava and Brooke climbed through the thick foliage together, moving in the direction of town, determined to avoid the dirt road, the mansion, and their captors.

  CHAPTER 46

  When Jaden awoke, she was alone in the mansion. She wandered aimlessly from room to room as if trapped in a glass snow globe, small flakes of awareness drifting around her. Her brain might as well have been a fried computer chip. Sparks of memory surged through, stimulating random nerve fibers. Hugging herself, she studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were sunken and vacant. She looked as if she had died and was coming back to life.

  That’s not possible. Is it?

  She got into the shower and let the cool water flow over her, cleaning off the grunge and some of her confusion. Slowly Briz, the triplets, Hubs, and their plan emerged from her fractured thoughts, reminding her of what she was supposed to have done—only hadn’t. There was a vague memory of Datura happily declaring that they were allies now. Was it true? Had an unexpected alliance been formed between the two of them? Had she willingly ceded to Datura and become her minion? Jaden got dressed and made her way down the grand staircase, the emptiness inside her echoing off the walls. Without Datura around, Jaden hoped to be herself again. Whoever that was.

  This must be what Datura’s blood did to the Professor. It let her manipulate him. Control him. Tweak just the right mind strings to make him do what she wanted.

  In the kitchen, Jaden found her backpack on the floor surrounded by empty plastic bottles. The sight of it brought back a memory of the Mal Rous’ reactions when they’d discovered the special beverages. She recalled the way Datura’s bulbous nose had throbbed with excitement, her tentacles rippling over her head like serpents, as she encouraged Jaden to drink the runny slime. Unwilling to admit that it had been made to drug them, Jaden had sipped it slowly, unwisely using her own mixture as a chaser. The combination had made her feel loopy and punch-drunk.

  When the yellow glutinous drink hadn’t made her keel over, the Mal Rous excitedly guzzled down the rest of the bottles, including the ones they’d found in Briz’s car. She couldn’t remember if the drink had had any effect on them, or how much they had made her swallow.

  Jaden opened her pack. A smile spread across her face when she found her mom’s cell phone. She could escape. She could sneak off, hide in the cane field, and call Briz to pick her up. Relieved that the battery was still charged, she noted the time, 4:57 P.M. Then she saw the date, and she sank down onto a chair.

  “Was I passed out for two days? That’s impossible. What did the triplets put in—”

  Jaden’s words faded. Her eyes widened as she noticed an object on the table.

  It was Briz’s hunting knife. The tip of the blade was wedged into the tabletop. Sticking straight up. A glimmering bad omen. Smashing her palm against her chest, she tried to stop the sensation of razor blades slicing off pieces of her heart. Briz … He won’t be botherin’ ya no more. Datura’s words vibrated painfully through Jaden’s bones.

  With shaking hands, she checked the phone for messages. There were none. She called Briz’s number. She heard his voice on the phone telling her to leave a message.

  Jaden reached over and grasped the knife’s handle. If he were hidden in the house, wouldn’t she have smelled his pheromones? She’d been in every room.

  She had to find him.

  She crept out the back door onto the porch. Her heart stilled and then sped up as her attention settled on the weather-beaten garage. Scanning the grounds, she couldn’t see any sign of the Mal Rous. There was a chance they were far away scavenging for food. At least if they were feeding they couldn’t be torturing the townspeople. That would come later, after sunset. For fun.

  Barefoot, Jaden stepped onto the damp grass, letting it swaddle her feet. Then running to the garage she opened the door.

  Narrow rays of light leaked in through the decaying siding and dirty broken window. A rusted machete hung on a wall above a termite-eaten workbench. Glancing nervously behind her, Jaden shut the door, fearing that the Mal Rous were spying, ready to s
trike and punish her.

  She understood that their allegiance to her was as unpredictable as hers was toward them.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw a door at the far end of the room. The sensation of fleshy chicken skin crept across her arms, and Jaden knew.

  Briz was on the other side.

  Every pore in her absorbed his scent. She walked over and opened the door to the Professor’s cellar.

  The quiet rushed up at her. She stood motionless, staring into the bleak space.

  Her fingers trembled as she flipped on the light switch. Nothing happened. Taking the phone from her pocket, she punched in Briz’s number. A muffled ringing sounded from below. She inched down the stairs, in one hand the phone lighting her way, in the other Briz’s knife.

  Softly she called his name.

  When the phone disconnected, Jaden was surrounded by shadows that hovered in the room like ghosts. She pressed redial. Again, a muffled ringing guided her forward.

  Her head felt like carpenter bees were chewing their way into her skull. She wanted to cry out for help. But there was no one. This was it.

  She was the rescuer, not the one to be rescued.

  Jaden pushed redial. She followed the sound to the corner of the room, where a wooden crate looked like a small coffin. Sliding the latch, she lifted the top. Her stomach leaped into her throat then quickly dropped. She choked on the sickly odor.

  The phone’s light bathed Briz in a cold silver glow, as if he were drowned in the depths of a gray sea. His face was sunken and hollow. A blindfold partly covered one eye. The other was swollen shut. Scabbed blisters covered his arms and legs.

  But he was alive.

  Shuddering at the sight of the noose around his neck, she carefully removed it. Then she cut through the rope that bound his feet. With all of her strength she tried to raise him up out of the crate.

  The more her slight frame tugged, the more his weight resisted. Her tears tumbled onto him. She had run out of adrenalin. Pure terror was keeping her going.