Chapter Twenty-Two Mabel

B itter cold leeches into my body as we move through the bog. Water and muck seep into my shoes, sucking at my pants and legs as we move through the soggy area. All the time, I am conscious of my surroundings and hyper aware of the man behind me, the one who has his fingers clasped so tightly around my arm that my hand has gone numb.

As soon as he gives me a moment, I will attack. The fight will not be easy, or pretty. But I'm determined to win. This has all gone on long enough and I need to escape, I have to find my monsters and get out of here.

While Reeve can control me with his mind, I have noticed that I need to give him warning that I am about to do something for him to react to it. And ever since he kissed me, I have focused on that, on the pure hatred I felt when he forced his tongue into my mouth. A couple of times, I have caught Reeve smirking at me, obviously assuming I am enjoying the memory of our kiss.

However, nothing is further from the truth.

And as I realize he can't quite read my mind as easily as I first thought, I wiggle my way around the edges of the curse, trying to find out the exact boundaries of it. And, all the while, I have been using the vision of the kiss while I have set my mind firmly on the feel of Fenn's mouth between my legs, of Brugo's large cock, Zeklan's deliciously slimy tentacles, and the way in which Arthur can force his way into my mind without it feeling like and invasion, such as it is with Reeve.

And therein lies the way in which I am going to attempt to escape.

If I can fool him long enough and take advantage of any given chance that presents itself, I just might be able to attack him. If I do it quickly enough, and with enough surprise on his behalf, he might not see it coming. I just need to keep hitting him, distracting him with my attack so that he doesn't have time to control me.

It's a sucky plan, based on nothing more than a hunch, but it's all I have right now.

I'm also not sure what to do about the full extent of the curse, or whether I should try to kill Reeve. He needs to die, but what of my monsters? I'm not sure I can live without them. So, escape it needs to be. Let us all work out what to do next later, from Fenn's island, which is the only safe place we have left.

However, I have no idea if I can run away quickly enough before Reeve sinks his clutches back into my mind. Death may be the only damned option here.

Reeve pushes me forward, always making sure I keep a quick pace. He obviously wants us to be far away from here. Although, I can't think of where he might be taking me. To a cave, a ship? Who knows. Maybe he doesn't have a strong plan beyond merely taking me.

The bog is deepening, turning into more water than mud now and I stumble when my toes hit a large rock under the water. Pain shoots up my leg and I lurch forward. Reeve wasn't expecting the fall so his fingers loosen just slightly with his surprise.

It is the opening I need.

Ignoring the sharp pain up my leg and the numbness of my sore toes, I swivel quickly, pulling Reeve further off balance. He lets go of one arm completely even as the other hand clamps down tighter. Swinging my freed arm around, I clench my fist and feel the delicious satisfaction of my knuckles connecting firmly with Reeve's cheek. His head whips to the side and I turn further, my caught arm wrenching painfully but I pay it any heed. Instead, I scream out loud before shoving my entire body at Reeve's and he finally loses his balance completely.

Water splashes up around us as we both hit the ground and I close my mouth a moment too late as the brackish muck hits my face. Spitting the mud back out I grab at the man below me, straddling his body even as he thrashes out. One knee hits me between the legs, and I gnash my teeth together, biting my tongue and tasting blood as I try to force the agony out of my mind. He still has hold of my right arm and I struggle to free it even as I push Reeve's face down into the black water with the other.

He throws his head around, but I manage to dig my fingers into his skin and force his face under water. He won't die from this, but it might subdue him for long enough that I can wrangle his dagger out of its sheath.

Lurching underneath me, I lean further forward, using all my weight to keep his head under water but he bucks again, digging his heels into the dirt this time and throwing me over his head. I land on my back, the wind pushed from me. My body screams at me as I try to draw a breath, the muscles in my back seizing but I continue to move.

To stop means certain death.

To stop means Reeve can get back inside my head.

And, I feel it briefly, the slow, lazy tendrils of his control.

"No! No, get out of my head!" I punch him scarcely in the mouth before screaming out again. "Die, you fucker!"

Rolling to my side, I drag my fingers through the mud. At least Reeve has finally let go of me and I can't feel his call. Pulling myself onto all fours, I stare at Reeve as he lunges for me.

"Only when you do," he hisses as he grabs for me. I am too quick, though, and roll further away from him.

"Why?" I ask him, suddenly desperate to know why Reeve did this to me, to Arthur. To all of us. I hurl a rock at him, just to keep him busy, so he can't reclaim control again. "Why couldn't you just let me be?"

Reeve is quiet for a moment as he studies my face. He is ready to punch but I pull myself to my feet, nimbly keeping on the move even though I feel broken inside from the harshness of being thrown over his head. Grappling for my rocks, I gather another and another, throwing them quickly, to keep the man busy.

Still, he manages to lurch in my direction. I am ready and dart away from him, reaching for a tree as I go and pulling myself behind it. I turn, pressing myself to the bark and try to see through the murk of the forest surrounding us. Damn this fog. I can't see anything.

Fingers curl around my arm again and I realize I waited too long, that I should have been running rather than trying to see further than a fist in front of myself. Even if it meant giving him a chance to take over again. Reeve whips me around to confront him, the bark of the tree dragging across my back, and I feel the seep of blood and the ruin of my shirt. Grabbing at a stick, I break it free and gouge him in the face with it.

"If only you had picked me," Reeve hisses while reaching for his face and wiping the blood from it. "Arthur never deserved your affection."

"Neither do you," I say, returning venom with my words, jabbing with the stick as I watch him dodge it.

Even as he evades me, his pupils dilate with my words, and I can see I have hurt him. Peering into his eyes, I try to find the friend I once had–or thought I had. Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I try to concentrate on the here and now.

"I'll make you love me, one way or another," Reeve says, his head whipping to the side when I hit him with the stick once more.

"Then why don't you drop this curse and let us speak freely for once?"

Reeve cocks his head at me before I feel a shudder roll over my body. He gives a simple nod and I feel the truce between us. I don't trust him, not for a second. I know that as soon as he needs to, he will take control, and all will have been lost. But I need answers. So, I drop the stick.

This man is the very ruin of me. He caused every part of my current agony. Arthur, on the other hand, while he deserted me, he never gave up on me. He returned when it truly mattered. All Reeve has done is torture me in one way or another. Manipulating myself and those around me and all to his own means. I doubt he even really felt anything for me, contrary to what he says out loud. A man like him, who curses a person to be tied to them from afar, is not one that knows what true love really is.

"That will never happen. Arthur and the others are the ones I love. There is no room for the likes of you."

"Yet, I made them that way. You wouldn't have all those disgusting monsters fucking you if it wasn't for me."

I wonder at the man's sanity. Not that I haven't in the past. But how can he think that by ridiculing them, I will somehow side with him?

"It is the one thing I am thankful that you did for me," I hiss in reply. "You may think monsters are abhorrent, but they are perfect to me."

"Even Zeklan?" he asks. "He isn't even a real monster."

"Even Zeklan," I confirm. "You could have made him have three heads and it just would have meant there was more of him to love."

Reeve still has a hold of my arm. Discreetly, I look for a way to get the upper hand in the situation, even as I wonder about his words. Why is Zeklan the way he is? I can understand splitting Arthur up into various monsters if Reeve's aim was to make them seem ugly and appealing to me, but Zeklan doesn't really make any sense at all. He's not really a kraken or like any other creature I know of.

Reeve laughs at me and I freeze as he leans in close, his hot breath against my face making my stomach roil and heave.

"When I cursed Arthur, I wanted to turn him into creatures so hideous that you would never want him back should you ever come across him after your change." I still further beneath his touch, my breath freezing in my throat as I wait for him to continue. "Brugo was such an obvious choice, no one likes orcs after all."

"I did, though," I whisper as Brugo's green face, and his shiny tusks enter my mind. My breath hitches as I remember just how gentle he can be with me; how completely different he is on the inside compared to his exterior.

"Arthur as a person had to disappear completely, hence why I changed him into a smoke demon. I hoped he would just disappear into the clouds once he saw that no one else could properly see how handsome he was. And, oh, how right I was there."

A sob is fighting to rise up my throat and expose just how much Reeve's words are affecting me. I swallow hard and it feels like there are bones in my throat for the agony it causes. Sweet Arthur, who I loved all those years ago and thought I had lost after I was changed. I see his face, the beauty of him from long ago and regret that I ever thought he had given up on me.

"Fenn was my own personal joke," Reeve continues. "He may be good looking, but he is obscene and embarrassing. No respectable person should find him attractive."

And yet, I did. Oh, how I missed his openness and honesty. Fenn always spoke from the heart and never let sadness or anger, or any negative emotion get in the way. He loved hard and deeply and wasn't afraid to show it.

"But Zeklan. He was supposed to be a fearsome sea creature. Something that was so hideous and completely unrecognizable as human that there was no way you would identify with him, even if you did find the others. The only thing was, I‘d never seen a kraken when I was creating the curse. And the only way it worked was if I could see the image in my mind's eye. So Zeklan was never real. He was only my approximation of a kraken from things I had heard over the years. And, in a way, that makes it worse that you still fell for him."

I can see the bitterness there in Reeve's expression as his gaze zeros back in on me. But all I can see is Zeklan's face, his slick skin, and his tentacles that always know exactly how to touch me.

"Well, the joke's firmly on you then, because love is love, regardless of what you see on the outside. Arthur and I were always meant to be together. Even by splitting us apart, you couldn't hide all of Arthur's true sides from me. We still found each other in the end. Even if you killed them all, I would never find my way back to you. Only the curse did that."

I spit in his face for good measure and Reeve slaps me hard in response. I wait for his hold inside my head to resume, for this conversation to be over but the familiar squeeze never happens. I am relieved but also worried. Surely, it is coming. Especially since I will never fall for Reeve. He must know that now. Nothing he can do will change the fact that he will always lose when it comes to me loving him. I will never feel anything remotely of the ilk, not even if my monsters are dead and buried. Even as I think it, an unease washes over me. A sick sinking feeling like some sort of horrible premonition of what's to come.

Shaking my head, I force the thoughts away, concentrating only on the present and the fact that while Reeve has been revealing everything to me, I have managed to wheedle one arm free from his clutches and now have his dagger firmly in my grip. I let the image of our kiss wash over my mind, to detract Reeve in the vital moment.

Quick as lightning, I pull the blade free and stab Reeve low in his belly. The wound won't kill him, but it is enough of a shock for the man that his hold slackens on me, and I can wrench myself fully out of his grip again.

I stab him again, and again. Over and over. Covering his body in vicious bloody marks as I take out my anger on him. I scream and cry and continue to plunge the weapon into his body, slashing and digging and shredding his skin as his arms whip out, trying to grab me and restrain me but I am too quick, too filled with rage and revenge. I cry as I continue my attack. Reeve has made me do this. There is no other way. I can't run from him, thanks to this bloody curse, and I can only confront him. I can only remove him from the situation and that makes my heart tear right down the center.

Still, I keep slashing at him.

Skin hangs from his middle, his intestines threaten to spill, so he covers the gaping wound with one hand, effectively making it easier for me to do more damage. He might be hard to kill but he is smart for wanting to keep his guts inside his body. It is way too hard to fight with them tangling up at your feet–even if death isn't really an option.

With only one arm swinging now, I move in a little closer, reaching for his head, I clasp his ear in one hand and slice at his neck. As soon as I dig the dagger into his flesh, he grabs me, pulling me closer but I don't care. It is too late for him now. Sawing back and forth, I sever skin and veins and tendons. The gurgle of blood as he spits it out into my face, warm and thick, is something I ignore as I dig deeper, finally meeting bone. There is a clunky sound as I hit it and the obvious resistance as the scent of bile and metallic blood assaults my nostrils. Still, I work further. Reeve's fingers attempt to contain me, each digit tapping at my body, trying in vain to keep a grip on me but failing miserably as I continue to work.

It is hard now. I have hit a bone and when I move the knife to a new position, I hit another vertebrate. Even then, I don't give up hope. Yelling in frustration, I continue to probe with the weapon, digging and grinding and finally it sinks between the bone to slice through his spinal cord. His hand drops from me, and he becomes dead weight in my arms. Letting go, I watch as he drops to the ground, his eyes searching for mine even as his hand still clutches at his stomach.

"You will never mean anything to me," I scream as I plunge the dagger down once more, stabbing him in the eye. I use all my body weight to press down on his skull. The knife moves freely through his eyeball as it pops and splatters liquid all over my face.

Even as I do so, I hear movement close by. I can't concentrate on that, though, as I have to ensure he is truly dead this time. A part of me tells me to stop, to leave, to go back to my monsters but another part of me is unhinged now, desperate to be over Reeve's curse once and for all.

"Mabel," Brugo utters but I am lost to my fury now, desperate to complete the task at hand, to be rid of Reeve once and for all. I want to stop, I want to turn to Brugo, to see my monsters one last time but Reeve's hand reaches out to me, trying to take the dagger from my hand and I rip my hand free from his clutches, drawing the weapon up once more and stabbing him deeply in the other eye.

"Stop!" Zeklan calls from the sidelines, and I finally turn but I can't see him anywhere.

All I notice is the ecstatic feeling of freedom that has suddenly enveloped me.