by Marx, J. A.
Something nudged her back.
Ignoring the playful coaxing, she kept her eye on her pupil. “Did you know that a dolphin’s echolocation ability lets him determine the density of an object, including the weak spot in an enemy?”
“Like sharks?”
“Affirmative.” She squinted up at the seabirds circling directly overhead, a common behavior when foraging for food.
Again, something bumped her.
Chiara twisted around to have a look, and terror seized her. “Get away!”
Isaac silently thanked heaven for Jamila’s last-minute decision to spare her daughter. Although he didn’t press Chiara for further details, he did come close to commanding her to let go and mourn before she made herself sick.
Expressing grief appeared to bother her. Had her tutors outlawed showing emotion?
She had to break down sometime, and Isaac hoped to be there as support. Everyone he knew who’d lost a loved one experienced a period of malfunction. Estimating the distance to her snapping point, he still couldn’t believe how well she was handling the mental strain of the past few days.
He wanted to keep talking, but sensing Chiara’s resistance, he switched mental gears for a dolphin ride. A mass of rubber grazed his foot. Anticipation sparked.
“Get away! No! Get away!”
Isaac jerked himself upright at Chiara’s screaming. He swam at her, grabbed the loop on the back of her jacket, and pulled her to him. Horror bristled his neck hair at the sight of the mutant.
“No! No! No …!” Chiara slammed water nonstop at the pasty-white human torso. Its mangled spine wagged below the chewed-off abdominals.
Mobilizing his courage, Isaac tightened his grip on her jacket and yanked. “Swim to the raft.” He kept an eye on the hideous mass riding the current toward them.
A half-eaten limb dangled from its collarbone. Patchy black hair. Bulging eyes. A cavernous mouth.
Dr. Caedis. Isaac declared him dead despite the lifelike movements.
“Get him! Away! From me!” She panted, madly pushing at the water, tears cascading down her cheeks.
“Breathe, Chiara!” He swam backward, lugging her with him. “I’ve got you.”
Twisting around, she pawed his front, kicking violently.
Kneed in the gut, Isaac grunted. He whirled her back the other away.
“Kill him!” She punched at the grotesque blob.
Caedis’s deformed arm counter punched on a swelling wave.
“Stop looking at it. Close your eyes.” Isaac pulled harder, but her frenzied flailing worked against him. Nausea escalated with every glimpse of the repulsive creature.
Sober shouts drew his attention to Sabio and Akiko paddling toward them. Leaning way over, Akiko extended an oar.
Isaac grasped the tip, and pain bit his other arm. “Agh!”
Chiara was clinging, her nails digging into his flesh. “He’s after me!”
Saltwater stung the bloody slits where Isaac pried off her hands. Reaching again for the oar, he gripped it tightly. “Pull!”
Akiko drew them closer. Sabio and Jase balanced the raft for boarding. Chiara’s tumultuous thrashing thwarted attempts to get her aboard.
Reworking rescue tactics, Isaac had Akiko hold the back of his jacket, tethering him to the raft.
Jase reached for the starter rope.
“No motor!” Isaac cried. The propeller posed a threat to both living and dead bodies. “Paddle us out of here.”
Sabio and Jase dug the oars into the rough sea.
Dragged alongside the raft, Isaac gripped the front of Chiara’s jacket and raised one knee as defense against her kangaroo legs. “I need you to get control.”
She panted fitfully, craning her neck to see behind her.
Isaac pulled her face back toward his. “Focus on me.”
Clutching her vested chest as if in pain, she pierced him with panicked eyes.
If he didn’t act quickly, she might faint from hyperventilation. He weaved an arm under her shoulder and held the back of her head. Cupping his other hand lightly over her mouth and nose, he cut her air intake. “Breathe into my hand.”
No longer crying, she clenched her lifejacket ’til her knuckles whitened. Snapping point. Her grieving circumstances finally caught up with her.
He prayed, and then invited composure. “It’s gone. You’re safe.”
Steadier breaths warmed his palm. Sanity re-emerged in her eyes. Shaky but stabilized.
Removing his hand from her face, Isaac delivered her to the raft. “Pull her up.”
Akiko hauled her in.
Inhaling deeply to combat an unavoidable surge, Isaac hoisted himself aboard then spun around and threw up over the edge. He’d seen corpses before but none as nasty as that one. Getting kneed in the gut had started the nausea rolling.
Once they gained sufficient distance from the cadaver, Jase and Sabio, looking winded, surrendered the oars.
Isaac slouched against the tubular wall across from Chiara and rested a foot on either side of her. Taking swigs from a canteen, he thawed out under the sun. “Want water?”
Teeth chattering, she stayed huddled up. “Tell me that was not Dr. Caedis.”
He dragged the back of his hand across his forehead, skimming off perspiration. “Does it matter? He’s dead.”
“Yes! It matters.” Her anger snipped his budding relief. She hadn’t recuperated.
Leaning forward, Isaac placed a hand on her knee in peace, hoping to preserve tempers. “It was Caedis.”
“A doctor?”
“A bogus psychiatrist. More likely a criminal.”
She seized his wrist. “How about a human roadie from Hell?”
Taken aback, Isaac stared at each friend to ferret out who had told her about the demonic symbols and bloody altars.
Chiara swatted his hand off her knee. “If you hadn’t kept me from seeing him, I could’ve warned you. Never trust him. Never get caught alone with him.”
She knew the guy. Isaac’s chest cramped. This ordeal was supposed to be over.
Sabio smacked the raft. “We did tell you about Caedis.”
“Wrong!” Her finger air-jabbed him. “You deceived me.”
The mood decayed, and Sabio threw himself right in front of her. “Own up. What are you hiding?”
Isaac grabbed his friend by the jacket, primed to take him down.
“Stop.” Chiara’s hand clasped his forearm at the same time Sabio’s did.
Their double grip cut the blood flow to Isaac’s fingers. Split loyalty had him up a creek.
“You didn’t deceive me,” she said to Sabio. “I chose to believe the Caedis story because I needed him to be a hallucination.”
The scholar’s glare narrowed. “You knew he was here from day one?”
She shook her head. “Not physically. But I felt him watching me. Following me.”
“What else?”
Incensed by the badgering tone, Isaac jostled Sabio with his free hand. “This isn’t an interrogation.”
Chiara let go of his arm and sank against the side of the raft. “The freak nightmares got so bad last night that I … snuck into your room. I’m sorry.”
Isaac kept mum about catching her in the act. “Wake me next time.” He pried off Sabio’s fingers and lightly pushed him into his corner.
Chiara’s flaccid gaze drifted out to sea. She looked lost in another land. “After regaining my memory, I convinced myself the paranoia was irrational. But something inside still feared that he’d survived the explosion and was coming after me.” Her knees folded against her chest. “Omeàlans feared him. Including Max, who feared nobody.”
Wherever she was headed with this confession gave Isaac the same eerie sensations he’d felt toward the lipstick message on the mirror. He resettled against the wall.
Her features hardened. “His stench polluted me the second he drugged me. If his thugs weren’t pinning me down, I would’ve killed him.”
Tension crept a
long Isaac’s shoulders, and he realized only one man fit the description. “Are you saying Dr. Caedis was actually—” The Nazi-ish tyrant who’d tried to make you the bride?
Her countenance exploded with anger. “When and how did Lord Vétis get to you?”
Without delay, he divulged how the man had manipulated Akiko. Isaac concluded with Sabio finding the Asian comatose in the lair, which explained the splotchy complexion. The rest she could piece together.
Her glare shifted so swiftly onto Akiko that he cringed. He deserved a verbal thrashing. Sabio too, for the accusations.
While praying that she’d have mercy on his friends, Isaac realized his own error. Had he made Chiara aware of Caedis from the onset, as the scholar had suggested, Jase and Sabio might have escaped suffering.
Forgive me, God. Isaac had made that decision out of fear, not faith. He got ready to intervene and take any tongue-lashing she dished out.
After a ruthlessly long silence, her gaze sandpapered each of them. “Oppression. Torture. Humiliation. Deceit. Those, and the absolute hatred you experienced for the past five days, Omeàlans suffered for nineteen plus years. Welcome to my old world.”
Isaac swallowed defiant stomach acid. Unlike Omeàlans, they at least had a way off the Cay.
Slumping onto the floor of the raft, Akiko paled.
Yep. You assisted the devil himself. Isaac tossed him the canteen.
“Actually …” Chiara’s sternness tapered with a sigh. “If you had let me meet Caedis, it would’ve ruined my birthday. Thanks for your gift of silence.”
The unexpected appreciation carried healing. Isaac’s mood lifted. Meeting Vétis definitely helped him understand her better. He needed no further introduction to the Lux.
She huddled up again, shaking her head. “What he did to me happened almost a week ago. I should be over it by now.”
Wanting to wrap her in his arms, Isaac settled for placing both hands on her bent knees. “Not something that invasive.” He realized she hadn’t seen a corpse in the water today. She had re-experienced Vétis. After nineteen years in hell, her survival really was a miracle.
Sabio crawled over and offered his hand. “Sorry about earlier.”
She shook it, mending their friendship.
Jase hooted. “Those freaks are finally out of your life, princess. No more worries.”
She unzipped her jacket and fanned it. “Except having to live with unanswered questions.”
“Or you can forget them.” Isaac gave her a fresh canteen.
He envisioned their happily-ever-after future. Movies. Running together. Long talks. Her becoming part of his family.
Only twenty-four more hours.
Chapter 60
Standing under the running water, Isaac soaked in relief. The death of Caedis, a.k.a. Vétis, lowered the casualty rate, which dismissed Isaac from hazard duty. Chiara had said the name Caedis was likely Latin for slaughter. Killer.
No doubt. Isaac finished showering and put on his last set of fresh clothes. On his way to the couch for a nap, he passed the bungalow’s sheets and towels lying on the hallway floor. He spun and followed Chiara to the bathroom.
The clothes she’d borrowed—outfits revealing as much of her physique as a graduation gown would have—were already soaking in the washbasin.
Isaac stood at the doorway. “I’ll help.”
“I’m showering.” Smiling, she closed the door.
Determined not to let her become their maid, Isaac stationed himself on the couch where he could intercept her trek to the deck to hang the wash. The laundry had to dry by morning, and the bungalow had no dryer.
On the floor near the back door, Akiko and Sabio busied themselves playing a game of chess they must’ve found in the loft cabinet. Too bad they hadn’t found Risk.
Isaac was too tired to conquer the world anyway. He scooched down and propped a foot on the coffee table.
“You didn’t sneeze in the loft,” Sabio said.
“Thanks to Chiara’s poultice,” the Asian replied.
Had she healed Akiko’s allergies?
Isaac tuned in to the other end of the couch where the musician was practicing an instrumental piece he’d been working on over the past couple of days. Lullabied by the JasTunes, Isaac yawned. Shut his eyes just for a second.
“Who’s winning?” Chiara said.
Winning what? He licked the drool off the corner of his lip.
“I should be winning.” Sabio sounded cranky. “Kiko’s cheating.”
“Am not. Poor loser.”
Roused by the bantering, Isaac opened a bleary eye.
A basket of wet laundry sat on the coffee table by his foot. Either GI Jane excelled at speed washing, or Isaac was more tired than he thought. He hadn’t even heard the pipes squeak when the shower turned off.
Carrying a bag of clothespins, Chiara entered the room decked out in Omeàlan attire.
White jeans snuggly contoured her hips and legs down to her mid-calf. Four buttons—he counted each—fastened up inches below her navel. And a string of gold, heart-shaped holes lined the outside of each leg.
Isaac sat taller. How had he missed this last Saturday? He only remembered finding her on the beach half dead with seaweed hair.
Patterned with flowers, the low-cut top buttoned down her front and tied in a knot. Curves defined. Flat belly bared for his appraisal. The whole outfit warped common American clothing standards.
Isaac suffered a rush of delight. “I see you found your old clothes.”
According to Chiara, Max chose the Spencer women’s clothing. Isaac pictured an entire wardrobe stocked with apparel as sensually appealing as this outfit, which looked custom made. With any luck, his brain wouldn’t short circuit before sundown.
She bent toward the wet laundry.
“Wait. I’ll help you with that.” Springing off the couch, Isaac picked up the basket of clothes and followed the shapely GI Jane out the door.
Condemning the Nave’s clients for their perverted fondling, Isaac realized he couldn’t remove the effects of Chiara’s past. But he could modify them. She’d never have to fear what moves he’d make on her.
By the time they finished attaching the clothesline from the corner of the bungalow to a breadfruit tree, Sabio appeared. He dropped his notebook on the iron table and wagged a warning finger at Isaac, apparently there to chaperone.
Proud to flaunt his nobly inspired motivation, Isaac plucked his God is Hope muscle shirt from the basket and pinned it on the line. He hadn’t asked Chiara to wash his clothes, but since she’d searched out that shirt for laundering, he’d be sure to wear it tomorrow.
He started hanging one of her shirts next.
“Time out.” Chiara formed a ‘T’ with her hands. “Want some advice on clotheslines?”
Smart-alecky rebel. “Sure.”
She examined his hanging job. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”
Wipe that smirk off your face. “We have what’s called a dryer at home.”
“I know what dryers are, Wild Man. We just never had one.” She was lovely to view from every angle.
Certainly, other women possessed comparable beauty. Isaac failed to understand why he’d never noticed them. Had God really brought her here for him?
Handing him the clothespins, she shook out the shirt he’d draped over the line. “Pay attention.”
“I’m studying every detail.”
She repositioned the shirt so only the tip of the shoulders touched the line. “Put a clothespin here.” Her finger indicated the spot.
Isaac reached over Chiara’s shoulder to attach the clothespin, and his cheek caressed her hair. Her fragrance spiked his pulse. He attached the second pin where she specified.
“Voilà.” Letting go of the shirt, she smiled at him. “This technique eliminates pesky crimples.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Staying close but not smothering, he followed her to the basket and selected a pair of shorts.
&nbs
p; Chiara shook out a towel and stood on her toes. She extended her hands toward the high end of the clothesline, and the hem of her shirt rode up.
Isaac frowned at an odd-shaped blemish. “Where’d the scar come from?”
“Which one?” She clipped on a clothespin.
“What do you mean which one?” He slid his knuckle across the minor keloid on her lower back. “This one.”
Lowering to her heels, she scratched her back with a finger. “Oh, that.” She reached up again and fastened the second clothespin. “It’s from a spot welder.”
Nerves twitching, Isaac yanked his gaze off the scar so he could hang the shorts. “How’d you get burned there?”
“Sure you want to know?”
Not the response he desired. It confirmed his suspicions that Chiara had been mistreated worse than she let on. The mere thought of someone abusing her provoked him like a slug to the gut.
Hoping he wouldn’t come unglued, Isaac forced out a, “Yes.”
She finished hanging a pillowcase and started on a pajama top. “I was hammering together a science project in our work shed while Max repaired appliance wires. My racket irritated him, as usual. He started swearing, shaking the welder. He moved right. I jumped left. Almost made it to the door before he nicked my back.” Spoken like a sportscaster.
Swallowing his grief, Isaac hooked a finger in her back pocket to slow her march toward the basket. “When did this happen?”
She pivoted on her heels. Lips pursed, she bounced her gaze between him and Sabio who had moved to the deck railing. She shook her head as if offended by unspoken pity. “My sixteenth birthday.”
What kind of dad spot welds his daughter? Isaac couldn’t get his face to uncrumple.
“Where’s your moxie, Wild Man?” Pulling pins out of the bag, she handed him a few. “I learned early on how to escape the island tyrant.”
How many tyrants did Omeàla have? He clipped the wooden pins to his pocket then tugged a dishtowel out of the basket. Eyeing his poker-faced friend, he wondered if Chiara’s plight affected Sabio.
The scholar’s cheek twitched. “Did Max take long to cool off?”
“A few hours. Depending on circumstances, a couple days.”
“Days!” Isaac accidentally tore some fringe off the towel. “You had to hide for days?”