A Twist of Fates Read online

  For the first time I realized that I was stark naked. A shiver ran down my spine.

  I grabbed at the blocks where my feet had been and attempted to break them, push them off me somehow. As I flexed my ankles, at least I was able to move the blocks—assuring me that I still had feet… they were just buried deep inside the slabs of resin.

  I came under a spell of dizziness. I was forced to lie back down. I realized just how weak I was feeling. It was an effort to sit up. Just to raise my legs.

  I tried to thin myself but quickly realized I couldn’t. I was too much in contact with the physical world. Not only was I drenched in this thick resin, but the blocks around my feet clung so tightly to my skin, there was no room for my feet to even breathe.

  “Hello?” I dared call, trying once again to sit upright. My speech sounded disturbingly slurred. “Is there anyone here?”

  As I gripped the sides of the wooden tub, it took all the strength I had to raise myself and kneel against its edge. I was about to attempt to throw myself out and roll along the floor toward a door I had just spied in one corner of the room when the door creaked open. A familiar form glided inside. The marsh dweller I had been chasing. Damn Ottalie. She was naked as she had been then, but for a skimpy skirt of flowers hanging around her waist. And behind her entered another marsh dweller—only this was a male. His skin was just as pale, smooth and flawless as the female, and he was also just as naked—with the same kind of skirt wrapped around his hips.

  Okay. This is getting weird.

  “You need to let me go,” I breathed.

  Before I could throw myself out of the bath, the girl hurried over to me and gripped my arms. She pushed me back down. Her grip was alarmingly strong.

  What had she done to me to make me so weak? I should have at least been able to soar out of here in my physical body, even if I couldn’t thin myself.

  “What do you want with me?” I managed.

  Her pillowy lips parted in a smile. She merely knelt by the tub next to me, pressing her hand over my forehead and gazing down at me adoringly.

  “Rest, my sweet,” she whispered.

  Her face descended too close, until her lips were on mine again. I resisted, trying to push her away, but she caught my hands and planted them by my sides. Then she let out a giggle and raised her head. She pressed her palms against my chest and kept my back pressed down against the base of the tub.

  “Stay,” she said firmly.

  I swallowed as her fingers ran down my chest, tracing a line toward my abdomen. Then she stopped and moved around the tub until she was standing over my legs. She drew up a three-legged wooden stool and sat at the end of the tub before reaching her hands into the resin and lifting up my right foot so that it rested on the tub’s edge.

  She glanced toward her male companion and nodded.

  Since the last time I had laid eyes on him, he had picked up a bowl of… what looked like more resin. Only it was halfway between the state of the resin I was bathed in and that around my feet. It was thick, but still malleable. Not a solid block.

  Still clutching my leg aloft, she took the gooey substance from the man and began spreading it over my leg, from the base of my knee to my ankle. She smoothed it downward several times, until it had stuck fast.

  “What are you—”

  Barely had I opened my mouth than her fingers curved against the base of the resin strip. Without warning, she yanked it upward. It felt like she’d just ripped off my skin. I roared in pain, every breath knocked out of me.

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I panted.

  Jerking my leg away from her, I clutched it. As I touched the skin she had assaulted, I realized that it felt much smoother than it had just a few seconds ago. Completely smooth, in fact.

  Horror dawned on me.

  She’s… She’s waxing me.

  No, no, no. This is not happening, young lady. This. Is. Not. Happening.

  I threw my weight against the side of the tub at once, attempting to scramble out of it like a wet cat. Only half of my body made it out before the man stooped down and gripped my wrists, bundling me back into the tub.

  “Stop this!” I yelled.

  The girl actually had the audacity to hush me as she reached for my right leg again. This time her hand settled on my upper thigh.

  “Be calm,” she whispered. “I am making you beautiful, like us.”

  So close to the man’s legs, I realized that he, like the woman, was hairless… I tried not to look past his thighs.

  “I don’t want to look like you,” I protested, still struggling with them. The man’s grip around me tightened, painfully so. Dammit! If only I could thin myself.

  “We will make you soft, like a flower,” the girl cooed.

  Her lips pressed down against my naked lower leg, making it tingle… though I couldn’t deny that it did something to soothe the burning.

  She spread out the dreaded malleable resin once again, this time over my thigh, before ripping it off me once again. I bellowed even louder the second time. Somehow, the pain was worse, knowing what was coming.

  All the while, I was unable to do anything.

  She worked her way to my other leg and as she began moving higher, the male marsh dweller snatched up a flower, pressed it against my nose and wisely, mercifully put me back to sleep.

  When I awoke a second time, my skin prickled all over like someone had just blasted electricity through me. There I lay, smooth as the day I was born… and feeling utterly violated.

  This was a kind of torture that even the ghouls hadn’t thought to mete out.

  Even my jaw stubble was gone.

  My eyes coming into focus, I realized, to my dismay, that Ottalie was still by my side. At least the man appeared to have left the room.

  She smiled again—that sweet, innocent, schoolgirl smile—before holding up a bowl of purple berries. She popped one in her mouth, her eyes widening emphatically with pleasure. Then she stooped over me and closed her lips around my mouth. Before I could attempt to stop her, her tongue pushed through my lips and she inserted her mushed-up berries into my mouth, feeding me like a mother bird.

  If this was some kind of karmic reaction for all the times I had taken advantage of girls in my youth, I supposed that this was a very fitting punishment. But for heaven’s sake, haven’t I already clocked my time in purgatory?

  She force-fed me the rest of the berries, which were undeniably sweet and delicious. Then, gripping my hands, she pulled me out of the tub. I stood on the blocks that still remained encasing my feet, but I realized that I was no longer naked. At least, not by marsh dwellers’ standards. I wore the same chain of white flowers around my waist that she and her male friend wore.

  She ran her hands down my hairless arms, delight sparking in her eyes. “See what you’ve become, my sweet?… White and smooth as a virgin.”

  Lord help me.

  Lucas

  My feet weighing me down like the bricks that they were, the marsh dweller led me away from the tub and through the door, into a second room much like the one I had just left. But instead of the bathtub, in here stood a long, narrow table, whose top was covered with more of those blasted white flowers.

  I felt weaker than ever, nauseated almost. Those berries had done something to my brain.

  The marsh dweller led me to the table and gestured that I lay down on my stomach. What was she going to do to me now? I could hardly even bring myself to ask the question anymore. What was the point? She had me, and she was going to do whatever she wanted with me.

  She pulled me down, quickening my descent to the tabletop. I lay on my stomach, my arms trailing down on either side of the table. I felt like an animal being prepared for slaughter.

  She moved to the end of the table, just in front of my head. As her small palms descended on my shoulder blades, mixing with the warm resin that still clung to me, I realized that she had brought me in here for a massage. At least this was less painful than her previous beau
ty treatment.

  Her strong little hands dug deep into the knots in my back, making me groan and feel all the more sleepy. She worked expertly, until my entire neck, back and shoulders felt light and loosened.

  Then she tugged on my arm, indicating that I stand up. She led me through yet another door. We emerged on a balcony, revealing that we were in a two-story wooden house, surrounded by The Dewglades’ strange yet beautiful forests. A stream flowed nearby, deep and wide enough to be considered a small river. She led me down a narrow, rickety wooden staircase—my feet hitting against the steps with a clunk, clunk—across a patch of slushy grass, to the edge of the water.

  Without warning, she pushed me hard, causing me to lose balance and topple in. She jumped in after me, her lithe, supple body quickly finding its way to mine. Clutching my hair, she pushed my head downward until I was submerged in the water. She let me surface a few seconds later, allowing me to breathe, before proceeding to rinse the resin off my body with her palms.

  “What are you doing this for?” I asked her. What are you going to do with me?

  “Tonight is a dance,” she responded simply. “A very special dance.”

  “Dance? What are you talking about?”

  “You will see,” she whispered, another mysterious smile playing across her lips. “You will be the guest of honor… for our queen.”

  Queen? I hadn’t known that marsh dwellers had a system of royalty. But I supposed most supernaturals had some kind of leadership structure. Why shouldn’t they have kings and queens?

  “What does your queen want with me?” I dared ask.

  She rolled her eyes. “Too many questions, beauty,” she whispered.

  She led me out of the water again and back toward the house… back toward the dreaded tub room. She handed me a thick cloth which was absorbent, yet smooth as silk. Apparently the marsh dweller equivalent of a towel. I dried myself down before gesturing to my feet. “Why did you put these on me?” I asked. “How can I take part in a dance if I cannot even walk properly?”

  She ignored my question.

  Before I could ask it again, a familiar male voice called from the other side of the room, “Ottalie.”

  The same male who had so courteously assisted Ottalie earlier entered the room. He eyed her meaningfully and nodded. “It is time,” he muttered.

  My gut flipped. I hurried toward the man as fast as I could, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. “Time for what?”

  The two marsh dwellers said nothing. Ottalie moved to the other side of the room, where I realized there was another doorway. It had been obscured from view by a low-hanging silken drape. They escorted me through it to a second rickety staircase attached to the exterior of the building. We moved down it and arrived in a small round clearing, shrouded by trees and dappled with the light of glowing butterflies.

  In the center was erected a wooden log, dug into the ground and pointing upright. It was tall, about twice my height.

  The marsh dwellers led me to it, and disturbingly, I already guessed what they were about to do.

  They twisted me around and pressed my back against the log. Then, grabbing both of my hands, they pulled them back, wrapping them around the log in an awkward kind of backward embrace. I felt some kind of tough string being fastened around my wrists and the next thing I knew, they were bound tightly together.

  As I strained to break free, the male marsh dweller lashed out and slapped me across the face, leaving a raw, stinging trail.

  I stared at him, stunned.

  Ottalie was more gentle. She touched my arm and whispered, “Just be still.” She turned on her male companion, a cross look forming on her face. “Go, Diordor!”

  Diordor scowled before stalking off.

  And then the girl and I were left alone. The quiet of the clearing felt suffocating. Sweat trickled down my brows.

  Why would they want me tied to this log?

  Were they about to perform some kind of pagan sacrifice? From the position they had put me in, it sure felt like it.

  I found myself wishing that this could be some kind of burning. Anything to do with fire. But they were probably smarter than that. Given these blocks on my feet, they must have known that I was a fae and what kind of power I possessed. I could think of no other rational explanation for why they would’ve done it. Ottalie would have seen me zooming toward her when we were chasing her. She saw exactly what I am.

  This was all my fault, anyway. I shouldn’t have disobeyed Ibrahim. He’d told us categorically that we must not stray from his protection. And what was the first thing I’d done? Exactly that. I deserved what was happening to me for being such a fool. Though I vowed that if I ever managed to get out of this mess, I would never, ever take that warlock’s instructions for granted again.

  I glanced down at my flowery skirt and winced. I would almost rather be naked.

  “Come, come!” Ottalie suddenly called out.

  I followed her gaze across the clearing. She was looking at a group of five marsh dwellers skipping out of the wood and closing the distance between us. Four females and one male, all wearing the same skirt as Ottalie and me. More marsh dwellers followed after them—a group of ten this time—and then came another group. And another. Until the clearing was filled with smiling marsh dwellers, every single set of eyes on me.

  A girl stepped forward from the crowd carrying a small flower garland and pulled me down by my shoulders so she could reach my head. She placed the garland over my head before backing away, her eyes twinkling with delight… or was it mockery?

  They began to skip around me in circles, the sea of rotating faces making me dizzy. I closed my eyes and hung my head, facing the ground.

  Derek, you’d better come for me. You’d better come for me…

  Cheers swept around the gathering. The women began to laugh and squeal excitedly. Still, I kept my eyelids sealed shut. I felt almost like a child in that moment. Vulnerable, helpless. What was the point of even seeing who had arrived? I already knew. It must be their queen. I would prefer to keep my eyes shut, head down, attempting to hold on to at least some sense of dignity… even if it was only in my head.

  I need fire. God, I need fire.

  They had been careful to keep flames away from me until now. Truth be told, I wasn’t even sure how those wooden rooms had been lit. There had been a soft yellow lighting, but I had neither sensed nor spotted any actual flames. I had been too out of it to verify the source. They could be powered by some of the glowing bottled-up insects that infested this realm for all I knew.

  They began to sing around me. Though singing was actually the wrong word. It was more like a humming, a haunting choir of high- and low-pitched voices. It seemed to have no particular rhythm. It meandered like a river, though somehow always strangely in harmony.

  “Open your eyes!” a woman called from my left. Probably Ottalie.

  Then a male voice called more forcefully, repeating the instruction. “Open them!”

  I only pressed my lids more tightly together.

  It took fingers to literally press against my lids and force them upward. And when they did, oh, how I wished they had remained closed.

  The crowd around me had parted slightly, forming an aisle that began directly in front of me and led toward a woman about fifteen feet away at the edge of the clearing. She was the only marsh dweller not wearing a white flower skirt. She wore nothing at all. Her knee-length blonde hair blowing against her body in the mild breeze was her only form of chastity.

  Her jasmine eyes were fixed right on me, her plump, high cheekbones highlighting her cherubic face.

  She drifted slowly toward me like a beautiful nightmare. I wished there was a remote I could hit pause on as she reached halfway down the aisle, then three quarters of the way, and then when she was standing just three feet away from me.

  Up close, she was even more striking to behold, but in my stomach I felt nothing but sickness.

  “What is your name?”
she asked in a whisper, her voice as deceptively sweet and honeyed as Ottalie’s.

  I couldn’t bring myself to talk.

  But my silence only caused her to reach out and touch me. She extended an arm and slid her hand against the side of my face, tilting my chin up to look her directly in the eye.

  “What is your name?” she repeated, her lips continuing to smile pleasantly, even as her right brow quirked up, as if daring me to disobey again.

  “Dominic,” I hissed. Giving her my middle name, which I never used, was the only act of defiance I could manage.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck, our skin touching as she kissed my cheek. Then she drew away again.

  “What is on your mind, Dominic?” she asked.

  The other marsh dwellers around her had begun to dance again, continuing their bewitching humming.

  “You are our guest of honor tonight,” she went on before I could even respond. “You should not look so sad.”

  I stared at her, exasperated. Well, giving me back my clothes would be a good start to cheering up my night.

  “Watch the dance,” she said, gesturing all around us. “They are dancing for your pleasure… Yours and mine.”

  She clapped her hand abruptly, summoning the closest male marsh dweller. “Release our guest from his bonds.”

  The marsh dweller moved round the back of me and broke whatever rope was binding me. I drew my hands in front of me, wincing as I rubbed my wrists. Whatever they had tied me with had dug into my skin, leaving red marks.

  The “queen” pulled me away from the upright log, and, using me like a pole, began to dance around me. Her hair blowing in my face, her mirthful laughter filled my ears.

  Marsh dwellers had redefined my definition of weird.

  “Is there somebody stopping you from being all mine tonight?” she asked in a whisper as she whizzed around me.

  My throat tightened. To my surprise, my mind flitted immediately back to Marion. I imagined her resting somewhere in my apartment, waiting for my return. I had already asked Claudia what the last words Marion had spoken to me meant, but Claudia had blown me off, saying that she would tell me later. And then we had all been so distracted with other matters that I hadn’t found the chance to follow up with her.