Fruit of Misfortune Read online

  I placed my hand over Eros’ grip, applying pressure to the knife against my skin.

  “Do it,” I said. “Kill me.”

  Eros’ breath was unsteady, his stare like a warrior’s at the onset of battle, widened and crazed.

  “Please,” I begged, closing my eyes. “Please.”

  Eros was as quiet and still as the marble statues I had seen of him at the historical museum days earlier. I waited, shaking, yet eager for the blade to slice through my skin. For a long while, the only sound in the room was that of our ragged breathing.

  The silence broke when Eros asked, “Does Alezzander know—that you’re Creatura?”

  “Yes,” I said, with my eyes closed.

  “And he did nothing?”

  “He tried, but his family stopped him.”

  “Tried what?”

  “He strangled me.”

  “He should have killed you.” His grip on my hair tightened, and I let out a short cry. “Open your eyes and look at me.” I parted my lids. His platinum stare grew wide. “Look at yourself,” he said, lifting the dagger from my throat and placing the blade in front of my face. On the mirrored blade, a pair of green reptilian eyes looked back at me.

  “You have no place in this world,” Eros said. “Not even in hell.”

  Slowly, I turned to view him. I placed the palm of my hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes. His lids closed for a moment. The creased lines between his brows softened. I reached for his hand, which was still grasping the dagger. I lifted his arm, and with trembling fingers, I placed the blade to my throat. “Then, please, help me stop this.”

  Eros pulled his hand away from my hold. “Damn you.” He dropped the dagger beside him and lunged toward me, pushing my back against the cool marble floor. “I want to hate you, to loathe you, to detest you, but for all my attempts, the need to touch you is ten times more powerful.” His fingers grazed the curve of my jaw and traveled down my neck, stopping at my collarbone.

  “Don’t,” I said, trying to push him off me. He locked my wrists in his hands and restrained them against his chest.

  “I can’t kill you, my sweet. You’re the only person that, like me, is a misfit. With you, I’m not alone.”

  “Get off me, Eros.” I writhed under him. I twisted my hands, trying to pry them free from his grip.

  Eros gave me a wicked smile as he looked down at me. “You’re by far the most sickening Creatura I’ve ever come across. I want to throw up every time I look at you.”

  As I fought harder to loosen his grip, Eros yanked my arms, pulling me to a sitting position. “Let me go, you schizophrenic ass—”

  Before I had the chance to verbalize the key syllable in my insult, Eros pressed his lips to mine. For a moment, my head swirled and my body tingled with tiny shocks of delight. His lips were so soft, so inviting, and so… No! My conscious screamed loud and clear. I jerked my head back, and then thrust it forward with all my strength. My forehead hit Eros on the mouth, full on, sending him flying back. I stumbled onto my feet with my hands on my head, dizzy from the head-to-mouth collision.

  Eros wiped his bloody lips with the back of his hand. His eyes were wide-open. “Did I not warn you about the consequences of striking a deity?”

  Uh oh. I remembered the flesh-eating maggots. Being eaten alive by worms wasn’t on my top three picks of how I should die. Still, it was death and a sure fire way to end what was happening to everyone around me. Resigned, I sighed and sat on the chair that Camilla had used to take vigil when I was ill. I looked to the floor, thinking of the only person on my mind at that moment.

  “Tell my mother the truth, would you?” I said to Eros. “Tell her I died. It doesn’t matter what lie you make up about it. Just don’t leave her with the hope that I might be alive somewhere.”

  “You’re not going to die,” he said.

  “I have to.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t want you to.” Eros walked to the bathroom and returned with a small towel in his hand. “I know how to forgive. I’ve been around for a very long time.” He pressed the cut on his lip with a corner of the cloth.

  My head dropped back on the chair, and I let out a breath of both relief and disappointment. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the bright reflection dancing on the silver dagger on the floor. I moved closer and appraised the fine craftsmanship. It was ancient and elegant. The handle looked like it was made of ivory, shapes resembling gold thorns encasing it. One red tear-shaped ruby was placed at the tip of each thorn, simulating blood.

  “If you want something done right…” I said.

  I picked up the dagger and held it with both hands, the blade horizontal on the side of my neck at the main artery. I breathed deep breaths as I counted, “One… two…” From behind me, Eros pulled the dagger away from my throat and tried to force it from my grip. My elbow dug into his ribcage, and he drew in a gasp of air. I raised the dagger again, but this time Eros came at me from the front and held an arm around me as we struggled.

  “You’re getting very strong, my sweet, and very, very stupid.” His thumb dug into the inside of my wrist and I let out a short cry, but I didn’t let go of the dagger.

  “Release it,” Eros said, pushing me back.

  I gritted my teeth. “No.”

  My back hit the wall, and Eros slammed my hand against the hard surface, making me drop the blade.

  “Why won’t you just let me die?” Tears rolled down my smoldering cheeks. I slapped Eros’ face more times than I could count. Each time my palm hit his face, a snapping sound bounced off the walls. I wanted him to fight back, but all Eros did was take each strike and turn the other cheek, waiting for the next.

  By the time my hands ached from the blows and my rage had died, Eros’ face had turned a bright shade of red. My finger marks were painted raw across his cheeks. I saw what I had done, and I wanted to apologize. But how do you apologize for something like that? I opened my mouth, not really knowing what I was going to say. Eros put his finger on my lips.

  “It’s okay,” Eros said. “I won’t let you die.”

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  “That’s what you believe.”

  “But you were ready to slit my throat just a few minutes ago.”

  “What did you expect? Your eyes changed when I threw the journal at you. I thought you were going to attack me.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? Wait until I turn into a monster so that you can kill me then?” I shook my head. “I can’t wait. I need to stop this.”

  “Okay. So ask for my help again.” The back of his hand trailed down my neck, and I slapped it away.

  “I don’t trust you. You can’t help me.”

  “I can take you to Kyparissia. That’s where you need to go to find your father, isn’t it?”

  Surprised at his offer, I looked up at him. I could tell by the slight smile on his lips that he saw hope light up in me. There had to be a catch.

  “In exchange for what?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “You.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You were going to leave Dahveed anyway.” He shrugged. “You wanted to die, remember? It’ll be noble on your part to save him. So, if I help you and stop this change,” he tapped my chest with his index finger, “I keep you.”

  “I’m not a piece of real estate.”

  “I know, but you can be a part of my estate, oui?”

  “You said I made you want to throw up. Why would you want me?”

  Eros cocked his head to one side. “You don’t think much of yourself, do you, my sweet?”

  My mouth tightened. He was right, and it upset me that he knew this about me.

  “I have to confess something,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not disgusted by you. I like to see the ferocious creature that stirs inside you. I can read your hormone levels and vitals so much better when you’re angry. Even your body temperature rises.” He swept my cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re beautif
ul, Isis. But when you let your feelings run wild, you’re gorgeous.” He pulled me against him.

  Blood raced up my neck and face. Eros had been playing a twisted mind game with me all this time to reassure himself that I might be crushing on him. I tried to move past his toned, lean body, but he didn’t budge.

  “Let me through.”

  “You haven’t answered me.”

  I stared at the red streaks my fingers had left on his face. I didn’t trust Eros, but I also didn’t have a lot of other options. Was this deal such a bad one?

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  He took a step to the side and bent over to fetch the dagger. “I would tell you to take your time, but you know better than I do that you haven’t any to waste.” Eros opened the balcony doors and smiled back at me. “I think you already know what a man says after he willfully lets a woman beat the living crap out of him, oui?”

  “What?”

  His face turned serious. “I’m in love with you.”

  I took in a breath and held it while I blinked at his words. In love? That was impossible. Eros’ silhouette disappeared as he stepped onto the balcony and into the night. The wind caught a single white feather that danced with the current. I watched it twirl and spiral into my bedroom and land on the floor next to my journal.

  The police were in the kitchen questioning Paulina when the doorbell rang in the early morning. I was the only one not contributing to the report so I volunteered to get the door, expecting more men in uniform. My head hurt from lack of sleep, and the sunlight that seeped in through the windows in the foyer made it worse. I opened the front door.

  “Dr. Gunn? What are you doing here?”

  “Good morning,” he said, and looked back to the street. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” He took a second peek past his shoulder and over his dark sunglasses.

  “Come in,” I said. “You look nervous.”

  “There are two police cars in your driveway,” he said. “Is this a bad time?” He hugged the leather messenger bag in his arms tighter against his chest. “Are they here for me?”

  “No, no. You’re fine doctor. There was a—a—never mind. You can wait in the den while I go tell David and Galen that you’re here. I’ll show you where it is.”

  After I left the doctor, I walked back to the kitchen. Paulina was still being questioned. Not wanting to interrupt the interrogation by speaking, I wrapped my arm around David’s and pulled him out of the room.

  “Dr. Gunn is in the den,” I said. “He’s worried about the police being here. You should get Galen.”

  “We don’t need Galen. This concerns us, and I think we should be the first to know the results.” David gave my hand a light tug. “Come on. Let’s see what the good doctor has to say.”

  When we walked into the den, Dr. Gunn was powering up his laptop on the desk, his sunglasses still in place.

  “Morning, Doctor.” David extended his hand. “I was expecting you to call.”

  “In all my excitement, I forgot.” The doctor took David's hand. “My goodness,” Gunn said with a wide smile. “I’ve been searching for you almost half of my life.” The geneticist shook his head. “I don’t know where to begin. I have so many questions,” he turned to look at me, “about the both of you.”

  “First things first, Doctor. We need to know what you’ve found.”

  “I had prepared a full report for each of your case studies, but…” Gunn tightened his mouth as he drew in air through his lips.

  “But?” David raised his brows.

  The scientist removed his sunglasses, revealing a stitched cut over his left brow. His eyelid looked like a golf-sized ball with hues of red, blue, and purple on and around it. I cringed at the sight of his swollen eye.

  “There was an incident,” said Dr. Gunn.

  “What happened to you?” I asked.

  “Oh dear.” Gunn’s blinking tick set in. “Ow.” He winced. “You won’t be happy about this, Mr. Chios. I’d like to begin by apologizing.”

  David’s jaw tightened as he stared at the doctor, already upset by his words. “What happened to the two reports, Gunn?”

  The scientist withdrew a pink binder from his messenger bag. “This is Mrs. Chios’ report.” He turned to look at me. “Are we still calling you that?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Just call me Isis.”

  Gunn nodded, and then turned his apologetic stare to David. “Your file…” Gunn cleared his throat. “Well, it’s… I don’t have it.” Gunn grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

  “Come again?” David furrowed his brow.

  “Someone else has your file, Mr. Chios.”

  “What?” I glared at the doctor.

  David’s mouth was as wide as his eyes. Gunn lowered his head.

  “Please tell me you’re joking,” I said, and Gunn shook his head. “Oh my God.” I stared at David. “What are we going to do?”

  David took a few steps back and landed on a small sofa. His eyes were set on a portrait of his family that hung on the wall above a mahogany credenza.

  “If the Council finds out that my identity has been exposed, they’ll begin an investigation. They’ll find out that we’ve been protecting Isis and my entire family will die.” He turned to me with consternation in his stare, “And her entire family will, too.”

  It felt like someone had punched me in the gut, and I exhaled the air in my lungs. The thought of offing myself couldn’t have been more attractive at the moment, but this wasn’t just about David and me, anymore. It was about our families. My mother, who was ignorant of what was happening, would suffer the consequences of bearing me.

  I walked to the sofa where David was seated and took a place next to him, lacing my fingers with his.

  “We can’t let the Council find out,” I said with a knot in my throat.

  “Dr. Gunn.” David looked across the room “Who has my file?”

  “Gío Carboné,” Gunn said. “I know where he lives, if that helps.”

  “It does.” David nodded. “Do you have anything left of my case study?”

  Gunn tapped the top of the laptop’s screen. “It’s all backed up here. Hidden and encrypted.”

  David rubbed the ridge of his nose in apparent frustration. Still, he managed to hold his tone under control when he spoke to Dr. Gunn.

  “Tell us what we need to know,” David said. “Then we’re going to find Gío Carboné.”

  “I was hoping I wouldn’t be involved.” The geneticist blinked nervously, wincing at the pain that it produced on his wounded eye.

  “I meant my brothers and me,” David said.

  “Thank you.” Gunn nodded in relief. “I don’t want to deal with him or his men again.” He patted his brown plaid coat pockets and pulled out his eyeglasses. One of the lenses was cracked. He waved in a gesture to join him at the desk. “I’ll begin with your file, Isis.”

  We hovered around the computer. The scientist opened a picture on the screen of what looked like a human blueprint. Its chest and stomach rose and dropped, simulating breathing. Gunn pressed a button and the top layer of the body flipped open like a lid and exposed the organs. They appeared to be in full function.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Indeed.” David nodded.

  “Thank you. It’s my own design,” Gunn said. He zoomed the blueprint to one of the main arteries. “These are cells. But they’re not human cells,” he explained. “I call them Isis cells.” He smiled at me. He then clicked and zoomed again and again until there was a DNA chain, like the one we had seen on his lab coat. “This is your DNA, Isis. This makes you who you are and what you look like. Even to the trained eye it looks normal, but if we click it one more time, it takes us deeper into the DNA sequencing.” He pointed to small particles. “These are proteins and within these proteins are genes that have been splicing.” He glanced at David and me. “That isn’t normal, by the way. These are almost impossible to detect in a standard DNA test, but I’ve dug deep
er and found that, somehow, these proteins have been splicing for years. My guess is that these changes have been happening since the onset of puberty.

  “Females reach maturity between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one. According to your file, you’re eighteen. Is that your correct age?” he asked, and I nodded. “Have you grown taller in the past year?”

  “No. Not that I’ve noticed.”

  “Your maturity is bringing on changes unlike any I’ve ever seen.”

  “Can you give us an example?” David asked.

  “Yes.” Gunn zoomed out of the protein-splicing screen and zoomed back into one of the organs. “This is your stomach.” His finger circled over a small area on the screen where the stomach connected to the esophagus. “And this here, this is a membrane across the sphincter.” Gunn stopped to look for a reaction from David and me.

  Even with the simple explanation, I didn’t understand what the heck the doctor was saying.

  “Maybe this will help me explain better.” From the pink folder, he pulled out a printed diagram of the human stomach and slid it across the desk for me to study. “In a normal human anatomy, there’s no membrane on the sphincter. At some point in your life, you grew new tissue.”

  “What purpose does it have?” David leaned into the computer screen.

  “It’s a selectively permeable membrane. It only accepts nutrients that the body needs. If the body needs iron, it only takes iron; however, when Isis ingests things that her body has no use for, such as unhealthy fats, the enzymes in the gastric juices concentrate the fats, pulling them from the blood stream and rejecting them.”

  “So this…” David tapped the computer screen with his index finger. “Is this why she can’t keep any food down?”

  “It is. That’s what the vomit specimen was—fat.”

  “Hold on.” I touched my stomach. “You’re telling me I have a fat filter? Does that mean I can’t eat pizza or any type of fast food?”

  “Yes.” Gunn’s eyes widened with excitement. “It’s extraordinary. Revolutionary even. But that’s not all…”

  “More good news?” I asked.