Fruit of Misfortune (9 page)

“You see,” he continued, “there was a similar
circumstance to the one with Veronica. I’m sure David told you the
story.”

“You did the same thing to another girl?”
How dumb are you?

“No, my sweet. Not to another girl—to four
others.” He shook his head and let out a laugh, but he looked like
he was about to be sick. “Veronica was an obsession. I understand
that now. The second, third, and fourth loved me, and I felt fond
of them. I thought there wouldn’t be repercussions if I made them
love me—more than anything or anyone. I was wrong. They didn’t die,
but they went insane. The fifth I didn’t love, but she loved me in
the way I ached for—sincerely and wholly. So, I asked her to be my
wife. I told her I couldn’t be with her as a man is with a woman,
and even after this, she accepted my proposal. She was beautiful.
Her name was Iliana.

“It had been only eight days after the
wedding when she told me that men made advances on her when I
wasn’t home. I was enraged, jealous. I thought she would leave me
for one of them. I couldn’t have that. I wouldn’t let her love
anyone else. That same day I began to infuse her with my gift.

“Iliana showed none of the signs of lunacy
the others had experienced; however, her lust was intensified. One
night, after a walk along the edge of the village, she seduced me.
I told her she must never do that again, or I would leave her. She
agreed and kept her word. But she became ill for almost two months,
on the verge of death. I should have known, but I was so ignorant.
Iliana was pregnant. She kept it a secret from me until her stomach
was the shape of a half moon. Five months. She thought she was
giving me the greatest joy. I acted like she was, and I waited for
the birth of the spawn, knowing what I had to do.

“One more month passed when the complications
began. She lay in bed covered with boils, her blood poisoned by the
blood of the Creatura inside of her. Iliana’s body didn’t resist
the poison. I doubt anyone’s body would. On a cold night, she died.
But that thing, it was still alive inside of her, eating away at
her remains. I watched as the Creatura writhed around inside her,
her lifeless body convulsing with its movement. I knew that at any
moment it would burst from beneath her skin and attack me.

“I took an iron rod from the fire pit where
Iliana cooked and returned to the bed. I stood over Iliana’s body
and stabbed the mound under her skin until the deafening screams of
that abomination stopped. When I stepped back, Iliana’s body was
laying in two pieces. The Creatura slipped out from inside of her
and rolled to the floor. I can’t even begin to describe the
hideousness of the two-faced creature covered in blood.” He looked
at me. “I had fathered a monster, and I had killed my wife.”

“I couldn’t believe what I had done. I fell
to my knees on the dirt floor of our home. I asked Deus for
forgiveness and begged for death. He said that I would learn
nothing by dying, and then at the door there appeared the
silhouette of a man. He touched my forehead, and I collapsed. When
I awoke, I called to Deus. He said a single word to me: ‘Sterilis.’
At once I knew what that man had taken from me when he touched me.
Only, he was no man. He was a deity carrying out the decree.”

Eros’ eyes were glossy. “He made me barren,
because what woman would want a man like this? Any hope that I
would find a wife of my own kind—to have the family I never had—was
gone. I’m alone. Forever. That is my punishment.”

My eyes were burning and mouth agape when he
finished the account. I don’t think I blinked once while he spoke.
“Why? Why did you do that to so many? That’s what you’re doing to
me, isn’t it?”

“No, I haven’t done anything to you. I
swear.” He raised his hand. “It took years to understand why I did
those things, but I finally found my answer.” He swallowed before
he said in almost a whisper, “I wanted to belong to someone.”

That wasn’t what I expected to hear from
Eros. How horrible it must feel to be alone in the world.

“So, now,” Eros took a brief pause, as he
cocked his head, “this is the part where you call me a bastard and
spit on me.”

I wanted to call him all sorts of things—a
womanizer, a degenerate—but I couldn’t. How could I when he had
just told me what an awful life he was damned to live? That was
punishment enough, I thought. The regret in his voice as he told
the story confirmed it.

The thought of his child being a bloodthirsty
freak of nature made a cold chill run down my spine. And to think
that I could have killed my mother had I also been born a full-fury
Creatura. Was I going to become something similar to that repulsive
being that Eros had skewered to death—and David along with me? I
could wake up tomorrow disfigured and a… a fiend.

Eros became a blur, and for a few seconds, I
relived the nightmare I had on the plane. I felt sick from the
visions of carnage in my head. Buried inside me was a
monster—perhaps, the spawn of Lucifer, himself.

“I’m just like…” The words trailed off, as I
heard myself voicing the thought.

“You’re what?”

“Nothing.” I turned away from him. “I should
finish getting ready before David arrives.”

“We’ll speak later, then.”

“I think it would be better if we don’t speak
at all.”

“You realize that the more unavailable you
make yourself to me, the more of a challenge you become? It’s
common for a person to want what they can’t have. And I want
you
.”

My body tensed. Hearing his words unleashed a
mixture of feelings—anger being one of them. And what was that
other thing I felt? Was it thrill? It couldn’t be. It made my
stomach constrict and my lip slightly curl. I silently reprimanded
myself for having that second emotion stir inside me.

I watched Eros walk down the hallway and turn
the corner. A breath of relief escaped me. I was rid of him, if
only for that moment. But I had another problem. How would I hide
my guilt and face David after his best friend kissed me? Was this
thing I felt for Eros real, or was he manipulating me?

Desperate to
vent, I took the journal from the nightstand drawer where I had
decided it should stay for the duration of my visit. Before I
started writing, I turned to the last entry I wrote prior to
leaving home and read.

***

June 2, 5:41 A.M.

The dream was the same tonight, except for
the flowing white dress I wore. It was covered in crimson
smears—the blood of the woman I kill again and again in my
nightmares. Her face is a blur, but the screams are clear and
piercing.

Like a wild animal, I gnaw at the pulse in
her neck, the warm blood gurgling in her throat. When at last
there’s no life left in her, I feel free, alive and satisfied. I
fear the pleasure carnage gives me, if only while I’m
unconscious.

***

It was so stupid of me to be preoccupied with
Eros when I knew what I had to do. If my father couldn’t or
wouldn’t tell me what I was becoming and we couldn’t stop it, then
the decision I had just made would settle it all. I didn’t know how
I would achieve it, but I would stop at nothing.

Biting at one end of the pen, I decided it
was unnecessary to rant over Eros in my journal. He wasn’t worthy
of being documented, especially not when I would hand this journal
over to either my mother or David in the end.

***

June 6, 1:32 P.M.

I’m certain that my dreams are visions of
what I am. I’ll find a way to deliver myself to the Council, and
they’ll put this wretched thing inside me to rest. Because if I
don’t exist, then David will never become what I could one day be—a
killer.

***

I returned the notebook to its resting place
and sat on my bed, staring off into nothing, wondering why I was
born this way. I wanted an answer.

Claire would be devastated if and when I
didn’t return to her. Here I was, pitying myself, when she would be
left alone. But I would rather that she lives than she dies at my
hand.

I rested my head on the bed and clenched a
pillow as I felt a burst of nervousness. I hoped that both David
and my mother would forgive me.

Minutes later, David arrived. Paulina called
us to lunch on Camilla’s order. In David’s presence, Paulina
avoided looking me in the eye and having any contact with Eros. I
didn’t blame her.

I took a seat next to David, across the table
from Eros at the kitchen table. David wrapped his arm around my
shoulders and kissed the side of my head.

“I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to
see you so in love, brother.” Eros smiled so genuinely that I would
have eaten a poisoned apple had he offered it to me. “You two are
perfect together.”

The hypocrite!

“Thank you,” David said.

“Here’s to finding your perfect love.” Eros
raised his glass of wine to us.

I rolled my eyes at him, and hoped David
hadn’t noticed.

Camilla smelled of olive oil, cooking herbs,
and dishwashing soap, as she served our meal. I thought it was
interesting how the scent of a person told so much about their
lives.

When I was little and Claire used to work as
a waitress, she smelled like a mixture of cooking oil and shampoo.
Now, she smells lightly of caramel from the coffee at her office
and like the notes of myrrh in her perfume.

The last time he hugged me, my dad, Hector,
smelled like cigarette smoke and aftershave. His shirts always
smelled like that, washed or unwashed.

I wondered what I smelled like, being that
we’re supposed to be immune to our own scents. I also wondered what
S. Leumas, my biological father, smelled like. And with that
thought I was reminded that I needed to set my plan in motion.

“Do you think we can make the trip to
Kyparissia tomorrow?” I asked David.

“No,” David said, twirling a fork into his
homemade Italian noodles. “Not until I know you’re well enough to
travel.” He looked at my untouched portions of food. “Aren’t you
hungry?”

“I am.” I wasn’t, but I ate a little anyway
to please him. The thought of what I had decided to do was
suppressing my hunger.

***

An hour past sundown, Balthazar arrived with
Nyx, Galen, and Eryx. They were able to catch an earlier flight.
The twins would have been in Athens in a couple of hours had Nyx
not been the one that was most needed. She didn’t have wings like
they did, so they had to fly the human way, via a commercial
airline. David also told me that on a long flight like that, using
their wings was exhausting. Not to mention, Nyx didn’t believe in
traveling light. She had brought three large suitcases, two of
which Balthazar was struggling with in the driveway. Eryx carried a
third, along with a smaller one.

“My dear.” Nyx hugged me. “How are you
feeling?”

“I’m okay,” I said. “Your trip might’ve been
unnecessary. “

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she told me.

Galen strutted through the front door,
Balthazar and Eryx behind him.

“Galen, help Balthazar with the luggage,” Nyx
ordered, when she saw Balthazar’s knees bending in the foyer.

“Mother, you know I have severe carpal tunnel
syndrome.” Galen raised his hands, turning to Balthazar to inspect
them. “I would help you Balthazar, honestly, but the pain is
unbearable.”

Since when did Galen suffer from any type of
illness aside from
Being-An-Ass Syndrome
?

“It’s gotten worse?” Balthazar let out a huff
of relief as he set down the two suitcases and unhitched the three
duffle bags hanging from his neck and shoulders.

Galen rubbed his wrists. “You can’t imagine,”
he said with a look of suffering on his face.

Behind Balthazar, Eryx stood, shaking his
head at his brother’s act.

“Did you have the surgery you were speaking
about last time?” Balthazar asked.

“Yes,” Galen paused, turning in a dramatic
gaze to the floor, “I was close to losing complete use of one hand
after the surgery. They severed my nerves.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You shouldn’t
strain.” Balthazar lifted a duffle over his shoulder. “I hope you
sued that doctor.”

“No.” Eryx patted Balthazar on the shoulder.
“Put that down. We can manage.”

“You’re unbelievable,” David told Galen.

“I’m touched that even with my disability,
you still look up to me,” Galen said. “You make me feel
valued.”

David furrowed his brow and took the duffels
off Balthazar’s hands.

I watched as Eros walked down the stairs.
Galen pretended his wrist hurt and didn’t shake his hand.

“The only one missing is Alezzander,” Eryx
said. “Will he make an appearance this summer, or is he still a
committed slave over his work?”

“The latter, I suspect.” Nyx shrugged.
“Perhaps he’ll grace us for a few days.”