Fruit of Misfortune Page 16

  “We’ll go to them.” Nyx looked at David with concern. “Are you still able to cross between realms?”

  “With effort, but I can.”

  “Then it’s settled.”

  “But Isis will be alone. She’ll be unprotected. I can’t leave her.”

  “We have no other choice. It’ll be two, three hours at most. We have to attend. They may not suspect anything of you, but if they come here looking for the reason behind our sudden distancing from The Clergy and find Isis…” Nyx shook her head. “Her condition is too far advanced. The Council Members that possess the slightest empathy will notice a strong peculiarity in her. Even without trying, I can sense that she isn’t human or deity. We can’t hide it anymore. To be honest, I’m surprised Eros hasn’t said something.”

  He already knows.

  David dropped his shoulders, defeated by his mother’s reasoning.

  “What time’s your meeting?” I asked.

  “At dawn. We leave shortly before. I trust in Deus that you’ll be fine.” Nyx turned to David. “Where are your brothers? We have to tell them.”

  “Eryx is keeping an eye on Carboné’s place tonight. I don’t know where Galen is. He was speaking with Galilea on the phone when I last saw him.”

  “Who’s Galilea?” I asked.

  “His ex-girlfriend,” David said.

  “That poor girl,” Nyx said.

  ***

  With the utmost care, I opened the door to my room and tiptoed down the dim left corridor. Eros’ door was half open. I stood at the entrance of the dark room, holding my breath.

  “The door’s open for a reason,” Eros’ voice came from within the blackness. I heard a click and light flooded the room. Eros was lying on the bed with his hands behind his head, shirtless, and wearing a pair of silky, gray pajama pants.

  Oh Gawd! Why couldn’t you have a muffin top or a beer belly? I tried not to stare. A wry smile was on his face as he motioned with his index finger for me to step in. I closed the door and leaned my back against it. My face turned warm, a reaction to the uncomfortable feeling that his stare provoked.

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not your next meal.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Eros winked. I hated how he had turned that into a double entendre.

  “Shut up.” I frowned. “I came to tell you something.”

  “Oui?”

  I watched his well-defined torso rise and fall for a few seconds. Muffin top. Muffin top. I tore my eyes away from his abs and looked past his gaze.

  “We leave tomorrow morning,” I said. “Early.”

  “My, my. You’re in a hurry, aren’t you?” Eros sat up. “Come here, my sweet.”

  “Uh—no. See you tomorrow.” I cracked the door open. “Early,” I reiterated, looking over my shoulder. “And put a shirt on.” Eros was smiling when I shut the door behind me.

  Tiptoeing, I made my way past my room and across to the right corridor. I tapped on the door and waited. A drowsy David stuck his head out.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I looked up at him. “I was wondering—”

  “If you can sleep here tonight?”

  I nodded.

  David slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me into the room. With his free hand he closed the door and turned the lock. In one swift move, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me to the bed. He planted soft kisses around my neck until he reached my ear.

  “I love you so much,” he whispered.

  “How much?”

  “I would die for you,” he said, and I stilled under him. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.” I pulled him closer to me. I was grateful for the darkness in the room because he couldn’t see the tears in the corners of my eyes. “I would die for you, too.”

  I pulled his lips to mine, and I drank him in. His fingers traveled under my nightshirt and over my rear. He flooded my skin with savory kisses that made my bones quiver. Like entangled vines, we curled and coiled, neither surrendering our hold. David nestled my head on his chest where I could hear the beat of his heart. The soothing rhythm had served me as a lullaby on other nights, making me give in to a blissful and profound sleep. Tonight was different, however. Tonight was the last night I’d spend with him, and I didn’t want to sleep through it.

  ***

  At the break of dawn, David woke me with a kiss on the lips. He was kneeling on the floor next to the bed. He handed me a piece of paper and a red rose, which I guessed he had picked from the back garden.

  “This is for you,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  “And this.” David held up his right pinky finger, displaying the red ruby ring band I had seen him toss into the large vase in the foyer. He poised his elbows on the bed and leaned in so I could see it better. “These red stones,” he pointed to the rubies, “they signify how my heart bleeds for you when we’re apart.” He placed the ring on my chest and kissed my forehead. “Now you know how much I love you.” He rose to his feet. “Everyone else is gone. I have to go, as well.”

  “David—you know that I love you, right?”

  He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “Yes. And I love you.”

  He stared at me for a moment. Then, like many times before, a golden shimmer formed around and within him, and he disappeared. That was the last time I would see him. I was going to break his heart, and I hated myself. It served me well, too, because I wasn’t worthy of him. He was too good a person to be with me, and I had known it all along. It was too good to be true. There were no happily-ever-afters in my life.

  My chest ached as I sat on the edge of the bed staring at the ring in one hand and the note and the rose in the other. I opened the folded paper and read.

  Essence of glory,

  Creating martyrs of sight,

  And you, beautiful creature,

  This poor man’s delight

  Defiance of nature,

  The hope of old seers

  And you, magnificent creature,

  Rob me of my fears

  To have for my hold,

  To expire over your soul,

  And you, marvelous creature,

  Blind me of my role

  Faith, my beginning

  Avarice, my flaw

  And you, untamable creature,

  Depart my skin raw

  Only Yours,

  David

  I grabbed a pillow from the bed and breathed in David’s sandalwood scent. I buried my face in it and wailed into it for what seemed like an eternity. The pain drilled deeper into me as my thoughts turned to my mother and how devastated she would be when I didn’t return. She’ll be alone. I held the pillow over my face and wept and wept—and wept.

  My eyeballs felt like they were swollen and boiled. I gasped for air as I fought with myself to regain control. I touched the Star Crest that hung from my necklace, focusing my thoughts back to David. He’ll hate me. He’ll never forgive me. I wiped my tears on the pillowcase, and held the ruby ring band up to my eye level. My beautiful dream boy. I placed it on the nightstand and took a deep, ragged breath. Hugging the pillow against my chest, I walked out of David’s room and out of his life forever.

  Checking the time on the nightstand clock, I knew I had wasted too much time already. I threw on a fresh pair of jeans, stepped into my tennis shoes, and packed a few changes of clothes and essentials, including my journal. I slid my cell phone into my back pocket and looked around the room to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. Satisfied that I had what I needed to survive for a few days, I zipped the carry-on bag that I had used for the plane trip and set it on the floor by the door.

  A quick stop to the bathroom was all I needed, and I’d be ready to go. As I held my hands under the stream of water from the faucet, I noticed that the cut I had gotten on my thumb on the night that Camilla had died hadn’t closed. The skin around it w
as wrinkled. I picked at the edge of the wound with my fingernails, wincing and expecting it to hurt. To my surprise, there was no pain. I lifted the skin off the edges with my nails and pulled. A section of epidermis tore off my thumb and a fraction of my hand. “Whoa!” I said aloud, staring at the piece of skin between my thumb and forefinger. I dumped the patch of skin in the toilet and flushed. I didn’t have time to marvel over dead cells.

  I hung the bag over my left shoulder as I left my room. I was about to head down the left corridor when I spotted Eros coming up the staircase with a grin as big and stupid as his ego.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I nodded, walking past him down the stairs, to the bottom floor and out the front door. Eros was quick to shadow me. There was a new car in the driveway with the trunk open. It was a gray Jaguar with dark tinted windows. I didn’t bother to ask Eros how he had managed to get another car so fast. I opened one of the back doors and dropped my bag on the carpeted floor, and then slid onto the tan, leather seat.

  Eros closed the trunk and took his spot in the driver’s seat. He looked at me through the rearview mirror.

  “Do I look like a taxi driver?”

  “You look like a lot of things to me.” I fished my earphones out of the bag and inserted the stereo plug end into my phone. “I’m not sure you’d like to hear the list.”

  Eros turned to look at me with his pouty lips pulling down at the corners. “Isis, sit up here, or this car is not moving.”

  “Listen,” I said, sticking an earphone bud in my right ear. “We can sit and argue about the seating arrangement if you want, but you should know that they’ll be back in less than half an hour.”

  “Why are you so difficult?”

  Eros turned to face the front windshield, and the car engine roared to life. He took a moment to slide on his designer sunglasses, adjusted the rearview mirror, and then drove the car out of the driveway.

  I bit my lip to keep from crying. I slumped back into the seat, boosting the music on my earphones to the highest setting, loud enough for Eros to hear and not even attempt to strike up a conversation. As we entered the outskirts of the city, the buildings became smaller. Soon there was only open road ahead of us and the countryside. The trees scurried by like green wisps as I felt the car gaining speed. The Greek countryside reminded me of the forest around the Ebony Estate and the long afternoon walks that David liked to take me on.

  “I don’t have to have to share you with anyone when we’re here,” he had told me once.

  The pain hit me like a fastball to the chest, and I closed my eyes and breathed deep to keep from crumbling. I rested my head against the window, casting a quick glance at Eros. He was watching me through the rearview mirror. I turned the music off and pulled out the earphones.

  “How much longer?” I asked.

  “Two hours.” The car slowed and Eros drove into the only gasoline station I had seen on the road thus far. “We’ll take our breakfast here. It’s not up to my standards for cuisine, but it’ll have to do.”

  “I’m not hungry. Let’s just keep going.”

  He parked the car on the side of the small red building and stepped out. I hadn’t even noticed that he had dressed down for the occasion, wearing jeans and a basic cotton t-shirt. A very tight t-shirt. The sculpted torso that had been lying on the bed the previous night was slightly visible under the thin fabric. The door on my side opened, and Eros offered me his hand.

  “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

  I stared at his hand, then looked up at him and shook my head. He took his sunglasses off and hooked them on his shirt, weighing down the V on his neckline.

  “You go ahead. I’m not hungry,” I said.

  “The faster we do this, the faster we get to Kyparissia.”

  “Fine.” I let one leg slide out of the car onto the gravel parking lot. “But I’m not eating.”

  I swung the door a little too hard, making the entire car wobble like Jell-O. Two lines formed in the middle of Eros’ brows. The new strength in my arms was hard to get used to, more so when it was unstable, coming and going like it did.

  “You. Will. Eat.”

  “No.”

  “Listen,” Eros sighed, “I appreciate that you want to look good for me, but anorexia is a bit dramatic.”

  “It’s a medical condition.”

  “Technically, it’s a psychological condition,” he said, digging his hands into his pockets. “Nowadays, society knows nothing about beauty. A woman’s curves are what make her a woman.”

  The sun behind Eros’ head created the illusion of a halo. He looked—well—godly. For a second, I thought he might have meant what he said, but then I brushed the thought away. He was much too arrogant to think like that.

  “I’m not anorexic. And I could care less what I look like.”

  I took a step toward the red building. The window advertisements for French fries, Coca-Cola, and other junk food made my mouth water. I’d kill for a slice of pizza.

  Eros skipped a few steps ahead and opened the paint-chipped door.

  “After you,” he said. I rolled my eyes at him.

  Inside, the building’s walls were lined with bright yellow booths. Each booth could accommodate only two people. Scattered between the center of the room and the register were several tiny tables. They looked clean enough. The other half of the place was an average gasoline convenience store, stocked with chips, candy bars, and maps. The scent of fried food filled my nostrils, and all of a sudden, my craving turned into nausea.

  “It smells horrible in here.” I wrinkled my nose and took the first available booth.

  A young girl with short dark hair set down menus on our table and spoke to me in Greek. My eyes shifted to Eros.

  “What would you like to drink, my sweet?” Eros asked.

  “Stop calling me that. I’ll have water.”

  “You’re American?” the waitress asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Cool. It’s the land of the free and home of the brave, yeah?”

  “It’s what they say,” Eros said, curtly. “We’re ready to order.”

  “What would you like?” the waitress asked.

  “I’ll have coffee—black and freshly brewed.” He looked over the menu. “And a fresh fruit bowl with granola and honey.”

  “And you, miss?”

  “Nothing for me, thank you.”

  “We have fresh pastries,” she offered.

  “Thanks.” I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”

  Eros raised a reprimanding eyebrow at my answer, like my mother used to do when I was a kid.

  “We’ll share the fruit,” he told the waitress.

  “Okay. I’ll bring you an extra bowl,” the waitress said. “So I noticed your accent. My brother just moved to France, and he’s gay, too. You would like him.” She smiled, then turned on her heel and left with a small spring in her step.

  “You really had me fooled,” I teased.

  The glare that Eros gave me made me shrink in my seat, and the silence that followed was awkward. I dedicated my time to twirling the butter knife round and round on the table, waiting for the waitress to return. Eros let his hand drop over mine as I was about to begin another set of loops with the knife.

  “I’m not gay,” he said, taking the knife from under my hand and setting it aside.

  “I know that. Even if you were, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “I’m glad you think that way because I don’t stand for bigotry or prejudice regarding sexual preference. In the end, it’s love, and I speak from experience.”

  I blinked at Eros, trying to make sense of the last part of his statement. After a moment, realization dawned over me.

  “Are you bi?”

  “No—it wasn’t for me.”

  “Oh.”

  The waitress arrived with our drinks and Eros’ fruit. She placed the order on the table and Eros thanked her before she turned to busy herself with an
other table full of patrons.

  Eros pierced a strawberry with his fork and held it up to my mouth.

  “Eat,” he said, and I pushed the fork away.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Would you prefer a nice, raw piece of human meat? I can arrange that.”

  “That’s not funny.” I glared at him.

  “I wasn’t joking.”

  “You never cease to amaze me. And that’s not a compliment.”

  Eros bit off a piece of the strawberry on his fork as he looked at me. Damn those pink, full lips of his. I couldn’t stand for him to do that with the rest of the fruit without staring.

  “I have to use the bathroom,” I said.

  Using his fork, Eros pointed to a hall at the far corner. I slid out of the booth and headed toward it.

  A smoke cloud greeted me as I stepped into the restroom. I coughed.

  “Hey, American girl,” the waitress said. “You want a cig?”

  “No thanks.”

  “You don’t smoke?”

  I shook my head.

  “Hmm…” She sized me up, blowing a thin line of smoke from the corner of her mouth. “You party?”

  “No, not really.”

  “America must be boring. Is that why you and your gay friend are traveling together—to have fun?”

  “No, and he’s not really my friend. He’s helping me find someone.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who are you looking for?”

  “My dad.”

  “Is he missing?”

  “I wouldn’t call it missing. More like hiding. It’s a long story.”

  “And you trust that guy you’re with to find him even though he’s not your friend?” she asked, and I shrugged. “You shouldn’t trust a guy that can manipulate you, you know? Especially, that asshole.” She flicked what was left of the cigarette into the sink. “He’ll make you go crazy, and you won’t even know it.”

  I cocked my head. How did she know that? She was offering too many facts to write it off as a coincidence.

  “So are you going to pee, or what?” she asked.