ISLAND ILLUSIONS (#2 PARADISE ISLAND duology)

--seventeen--

A throaty, chant-like tune escaped from Jessa's sealed lips. Almost as if she wasn't speaking at all, but humming a melodic hymn that subdued anyone in the vicinity.

Anyone but Kera, it appeared—she, unlike Miles and Vick, was unaffected by Jessa's presence, by the spell she seemed to weave through her pressed lips. Kera remained with her back against the cavern's wall, struggling through the various wounds inflicted on her by the island and its supernatural inhabitants.

Miles couldn't think. The more Jessa sang, the more his mind scrambled with thoughts that weren't his own. Thoughts of blood and sex and death, of hairy monsters biting into faces, of ominous, smoky shapes fizzling to life before him.

He forced his eyes open, attempting to look at Jessa in her hypnotic chanting. There had to be a way to break her spell, to knock her off balance. To stop her from summoning the alien gods he'd made clear he wanted to destroy.

Vick was stiff as a statue beside Miles, unmoving. Miles couldn't quite move his head to the side to verify that he was still alive. The only way he knew for sure was that Vick would have fallen face forward onto the sand were he dead. Right?

At this point, I don't know what is what.

"Yeah," said Kera, her voice loud enough to cover up Jessa's eerie incantation. "That's not a godly tongue I've ever read about or studied." She wriggled about, figuring out how to get on her knees, instead of sitting on her behind. "You were right—they're not gods. These things are fakes."

Miles glared at her, thinking shh, be quiet, she'll hear you; but Jessa had no reaction to Kera speaking. She continued on, undisturbed by any presences around her.

Could he speak, too? Miles felt weighed down by tons of bricks, crumbling beneath Jessa's spell. Like if he tried to open his mouth, his jaw would break off and collapse.

Why wasn't Kera affected? And how could he combat this, like her?

He dared to open his mouth, despite his fear of losing his jaw. He let out a breath, let out a few half words to test his speech—and smiled when realizing he could talk.

"Why aren't you... fucked up like us?" he said, addressing Kera, who was progressively crawling over to him. She struggled, wincing with every movement, every breath, her injuries likely too deep for her to be moving about at all.

"Because I'm already fucked up." She jutted her chin towards the entrance behind Jessa. "I'm already on my way to becoming a monster. I don't think whatever she's doing is going to do worse to me."

She stopped inches away, managing to straighten up. She was on her knees, too, but so much smaller than Miles. So tiny, so frail, and in need of medical care in haste. Yet he couldn't provide it; he couldn't do anything in his current state of mind.

"Ugh," Vick nudged him with his elbow, "this is... not fun."

"You're okay?" Miles gritted his teeth and tried one more time to turn and look at Vick, but his muscles refused to obey him. "You're alive?"

"Barely. It's... strong." Vick's voice was frail, almost muffled. He elbowed Miles again, but Miles thought he might not have been doing it on purpose.

"He's convulsing," said Kera, as Vick fell forward and rolled over to his back. He was, as Kera implied, violently shaking, foaming a bit at the mouth.

"Help him!" Miles couldn't move his arms or legs, so he pointed at the suffering Vick with his chin, which seemed to be the only body part he had control over. "Kera, do something! If he chokes on his spit, he'll die!"