The Curse Begins

by Abby James

  “Oh, Sam, what the hell is going on?” A small sob escaped. I palmed my mouth when I heard it as if that would form a dam wall and hold back my tears. Falling apart wouldn’t help me. I had no use for tears.

  I wiped my eyes then felt the flutterings of something at my buckle. When I looked down, I saw my buckle undoing, flicking the clasp then slipping out of each loop of my jeans. I grabbed at the leather belt, but it slipped through my fingers then wound up into the air like a snake and wrapped itself around my wrists before I could do anything about it.

  With a tug, the wrapped belt drew me forward to the faucets by my wrists, now clasped together. Attempting to yank my wrists back was futile, the invisible pull too strong. All I could do was helplessly watch as the leather bind slipped itself over the hot faucet and anchored me in place. I tried to lift it back over but it was like the leather had turned to stone. And I thought the mutilated corpse was bad.

  Helpless I may be at this moment, but I was not going to give in. I braced one leg against the wall and yanked at the leather bind.

  “Bloody hell,” I gasped after a few attempts of tugging against the restraint. A few more groans as I wrestled against my belt and I was panting.

  My hands had turned blue. All I’d achieved through my struggles was to tighten the bind around my wrists. I glanced around the bathroom, but given my hands were tied tight around the faucet, even if I did see something useful, I couldn’t grab it.

  “Hey, anyone, help!” I yelled.

  The smart smack of shoes coming down the hall toward the bathroom door was my answer. I swallowed, waiting, listening to the heavy tread, half expecting it to be Mr. Tucker.

  They stopped just outside the door.

  “Can someone help me?” I yelled.

  The door flew open, then rebounded with a shudder from the force of hitting the wall. I gasped and jumped away, banging my knee on the underside of the basin and for a blinding moment saw stars from the pain.

  A man stood in the doorway, looking alive and normal enough, except for the trench coat when the night air was balmy.

  “Did I hear a cry for help from a damsel in distress?”

  His accent was polished, making him sound cultured but arrogant. That coupled with the leather shoes, fancy suit and expensive trench coat, the guy reminded me of an English spy straight out of a Duncan Bond movie. His cologne reached me before he’d crossed two feet of the room. It was a blend I would normally find attractive, but given my hands were tied to a faucet by my rogue belt and I’d just mutilated Mr. Tucker, I wasn’t in the frame of mind to appreciate how some guy smelt.

  “Are we in a spot of bother?” He glanced at the faucet wearing a smug smile.

  A horrible creepy tingle inched up my spine and my heart leaped a few extra beats. He wasn’t surprised by my predicament. In fact he was downright smug about it.

  “Let me go,” I growled at him.

  His expression changed to one of innocent surprise. “Me? You’re accusing me?”

  “Cut the shit. In the last twenty-four hours I’ve faced a man mountain, a black blob, a zombie and now this.”

  “A zombie?”

  “The innocent act doesn’t suit you. Tell me what the hell is going on?”

  “When you say zombie, you mean a reanimated corpse?”

  Asshole, why was he focusing on that? “Just remove the belt, will you?”

  That I could have a conversation about all these things with a strange guy in the ladies bathroom of a diner without blabbering hysterically went a long way to explain my mental state.

  “I’ve been continually scared to death this last day and it’s all because of you. I don’t know what shit’s going on, hell, I can’t even believe I’m not jabbering right now, a psychotic mess, but you’re going to tell me the truth. Why are you doing this to me? What the hell is going on?”

  “Scullion is interested in you.”

  “Scullion? I don’t know the guy so why’s he interested in me? How does he even know I exist?”

  “Scullion’s special. He knows things.”

  Great, now there was a Yoda character.

  “He wants to meet you.”

  “If that is all, why didn’t he send me a text inviting me out for a drink? I would’ve been more obliging.”

  “He sent someone to invite you in person, but you weren’t so accommodating.”

  “The invitation wasn’t very polite.”

  “Massus isn’t known for his delicacy.”

  “And you are?”

  “Rosta.” He held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Yeah, real funny.”

  He smiled as he lowered his hand, really it was closer to a smirk.

  “Are you going to undo me?”

  A short wave of his hand as he turned to lean his back against the wall and my belt fell limp to the porcelain.

  “What are you?” I said as I grabbed my belt and threaded it back through the loops on my jeans.

  “Someone you may come to like in time. Once you get over your feral nature.”

  He was good-looking in that upper class, well-groomed sort of way. He wore his sandy blond hair short at the back and sides but longer on top. The sort of style that made a woman want to run her fingers through the strands to muss it up before she gave him a devastating kiss. But the hypnotic blue eyes and defined cheekbones were not enough to persuade me to trust him, or even like him.

  “I’m outta here.”

  I spun on my heels, and managed two strides when the bathroom door slammed closed. I jolted to a stop knowing there was no use rushing to the door and attempting to open it. If he could anchor my belt around a faucet and make it feel as heavy as stone, then I wasn’t getting out that door without his permission.

  “Is this your welcoming invitation?” I said as I turned to face him.

  He pushed off the wall. “I think we’re beyond welcoming by now, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I’m not interested in meeting your master.”

  He pushed his hands into his pockets, chuckling to himself. “Master. He’d like to hear that.”

  “You’re doing the dirty work, aren’t you? That’s a classic master and slave setup to me.”

  It was so sudden I had yet to breathe, but a heavy weight pushed me in the chest, sending me backward and into the wall, crushing me in place. My lungs couldn’t expand enough to suck the air in, and I was left taking short little gasps as Rosta strode toward me, hands still in his pockets, with a slow arrogant stride like he had all the time in the world and he was enjoying my punishment.

  “You need to learn how to play with the grownups before you go making statements like that.” His voice slid out like velvet.

  “Let me go,” I hissed, my lungs feeling like they were on the verge of collapsing.

  “Not until you learn to be nice.” His smirk made my toes curl.

  “I can’t breathe.” I was serious. The pressure on my chest constricted my lungs such that I couldn’t take in enough air.

  The pressure relented, but not enough for me to push off the wall.

  “Now that I have your attention, perhaps we can talk.”

  “You have nothing I want to hear. I’m not interested in speaking with this Scullion guy. I want you all to leave me alone.”

  Rosta stepped in close, keeping his body mere inches from mine. “That is not part of the deal.”

  “If I spoke to this guy, would you all leave me alone then?”

  “What I find curious is how you seem to accept this fate.”

  “What fate?”

  “Twenty-four hours ago you learned for the first time there existed a reality beyond anything you’ve ever known.”

  “I adapt quick, especially when my life depends on it. But what does that have to do with my fate?”

  “A lot, as it turns out.”

  “And you think I belong to this weird reality of yours?”

  “I don’t think it. I know it.”

 
“Why have you suddenly turned up now? I’ve been alive twenty years and now you decide that I’m one of you.”

  “The occasional few will experience their ability throughout their life, for the greater majority it lays dormant until the body is mature. Then it requires certain events to trigger it.”

  “And those certain events require the person to be scared to death, right?”

  This time he gave me a smile. “We have no intention of hurting you.”

  “Then why this?”

  “It was necessary to get your attention. You’re a stubborn woman. Normally I would find that very attractive.” His eyes crawled my body as a salacious smile creeped onto his face, “but I have more serious concerns.”

  “Let me go, and I may listen to what you have to say.”

  “Or.”

  “I won’t stop screaming until someone out there hears.”

  The crush on my body released and I collapsed forward, hands to knees, gulping in large breaths. “Asshole.” I managed between each breath.

  “Come now. You know, I think you and I could end up good friends.” Again his eyes crawled over my body.

  I straightened, not bothering to reply to his degrading comment. “Say what you have to say and then I’ll be on my way.”

  Rosta rolled his eyes. “Dear, dear me. You are a hard one to teach. But I think I know how to take care of that.”

  He grabbed my arm and yanked me around, using his body to push me into the wall, the cold pressing against my cheek. Along the seam where our bodies joined I felt a vibration and a zing like a mini electric shock. It lasted mere seconds but was enough to send a minor shock wave humming throughout my body.

  I would push back, fight him, but that would only press me farther into him, and, after everything he’d done, I couldn’t win this war.

  He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “This is cozy, now isn’t it? Maybe I should’ve thought of this right from the start.”

  The heat of fury that rose up within doused any fear I should feel right now.

  “If you don’t get off of me—”

  His weight vanished before I’d finished having my say. With the sound of crashing and a heavy thud, I spun to find Rosta’s body sliding down the opposite wall into a heap on the floor next to the toppled bin. Used hand towels scattered around his prone form.

  Confused, shocked, I stood where I was waiting for him to get up, but he didn’t stir. I took a few tentative steps toward him, then stopped when I saw the blood seeping from a cut on the back of his head. Definitely unconscious.

  I turned, seeking out every corner and space in the cramped confines of the bathroom looking for whoever or whatever had done this. But we were alone.

  I swiped my bag off the floor and rushed for the door, breathing out a big exhale when I found it easy to open. I hurried for the exit, flicking glances over my shoulder, expecting to see Rosta or something else weird and supernatural to come hulking down the corridor. I’d ordered a coffee before heading for the bathroom, but wasn’t going to bother with it now, instead I rushed for the door and pushed out into the warm night air. Putting distance between me and Rosta was the only thought in my head. So without thinking as to where I was going I walked away.

  There was nowhere I could go. Scullion and his minions seemed to be able to find me wherever I went. But how? Maybe I had some form of tracker on me, placed there when I first met Massus. That wouldn’t explain how Massus found me, unless I wanted to believe Scullion was like a supernatural sniffer dog. And what would he find in me if he looked? What sort of power did I possess? And what was it that made Scullion so interested in me?

  I ducked across the street behind the taxi and headed for the Stow bridge. The obvious place to head was home, and that was the likely place anyone would go looking for me so I would head elsewhere, taking the steps that led down to the base of the bridge where the street lights thinned, leaving the moon as the only light. Under the bridge was a popular place for the homeless and right now that seemed the best place to hide until I could figure out something better to do.

  Agreeing to meet with Scullion was one option, but there was no guarantee the guy wasn’t a dangerous nutcase. I would run out of options for keeping myself hidden. Actually I had no plan in that regard apart from hiding with the homeless.

  There were a few bodies laid out under old blankets or stripped cardboard. I kept my distance from that wretched group and huddled down at the far end of the bridge, my back against the cold concrete, hugging my knees tight to my chest and staring out over the water with my bag pulled close to my chest. There would be no sleep for me tonight.

  4

  At some point I did fall asleep, slumped sideways on the cold paving. A shiver ran through my body, forcing me up off the ground. The left side of me was numb, and the rest of me wasn’t much better. My neighbors had yet to stir, and it was best to get going before they did.

  I scooped my bag close, thankful it was still with me, and rose to my feet, feeling like I’d been run over by a bus. I retraced my steps back up the stairs and onto the street and headed for the first bus stop.

  This early in the morning there were only two other people at the bus stop, a tall thin man dressed in a business suit and an older woman in a woolen plaid skirt and jacket, her hair looking like it had just come out of curlers. Both looked a sight better than I and smelt a world better too. What I wouldn’t do for a warm shower and a change of clothes right now. My grumbling stomach reminded me I’d not eaten since my coffee date with Nathan yesterday afternoon.

  Thinking of Nathan made me think about work and the nightmare Hack and everyone else at the funeral parlor would discover this morning. How could I explain it so that anyone would believe me? But the state of Mr. Tucker was the least of my worries. I had to keep Scullion and any dogs he sent after me off my tail.

  I wasn’t sure of the route this bus would take, but I stood and queued behind the man and woman when the bus came into view. I needed some time to think. Keeping on the move seemed a good idea. A secure confined place also felt good, and I could see who got on the bus easy enough.

  I followed the man and woman onto the mostly empty bus and found myself a seat toward the middle. With the bus about to pull away from the curb, a young guy banged on the side, announcing that he wanted to get on. I watched him jog to the front of the bus then clamber up the steps. His spiked hair, tipped a deep blue at the ends, matched his lipstick. With his jeans hanging low on his hips, I was treated to a show of the top half of his branded boxers as he reached up to run a hand along the metal railing of the bus to steady himself as the driver pulled away.

  I flicked my gaze elsewhere the moment our eyes met, and a pulse of instant adrenaline surged through my veins. Was this guy one of Scullion’s dogs? With the smile on his face as he looked at me, it was highly probable. The street scene became very interesting, and I pressed my head against the window staring at the buildings flash past while my body amped to ultra alert.

  He sat in front of me, invading my space with incense, patchouli oil if I wasn’t mistaken. I pressed back into my seat, but the distance wasn’t far enough, forcing myself to sit still when thoughts of hiking it over the seats and hiding up the back ran through my mind. Instead I stayed where I was, acutely aware of the boy in front of me. What ability would he have to stop me from escaping?

  The bus slowed and I contemplated getting off, but he’d likely get off with me. At least on the bus he had to behave with the other passengers around, unless these people didn’t care about exposing their gifts in public. Given no one in this city knew about this reality, as far as I could tell, I would say these people went to great lengths to keep themselves a secret, which meant staying in public places would keep me safe, for now.

  The business man got off with some others, leaving the older woman, myself and the young guy. He positioned himself in the corner of his seat, leaning his back against the window, which placed him side on to me, one easy glance sid
eways and he’d be looking at me. I felt pinned like a butterfly. My only escape was the view out the window.

  With each passing moment a bubble of heat cooked in my gut, roiling to a boil until I felt I would burst. Soon I was unable to take the silence any longer. These bastards had to stop harassing me. “I know who you are, so stop pretending. And you’re wasting your time. I refuse to meet him.”

  The guy looked up from his phone and blinked at me. He glanced around before looking back at me.

  “You talking to me?”

  “Don’t be so obtuse. I’m not an imbecile. And you can go back and tell Scullion he can stick his invitation up his ass.”

  His only response was a frown, a deep set one that formed grooves in his forehead. “Okay, I’ll tell the guy. Just point me in the right direction.”

  I mustered a hard glare. He returned it with a confused smile.

  “You’re here to take me, right?”

  “Look, lady, you’re cute and all, but I have a girlfriend. I mean, this is a novel way of scoring, but yeah, I’m not interested.” He shuffled around to face the front, giving me the back of his head.

  Oh shit. Oops.

  The next stop emptied the bus, but before the young guy left his seat he turned to me. “Hope this works out for you and all.” He nodded once and climbed off the bus.

  I slid down in my seat, rubbing my forehead. I was going to end up crazy. Out the corner of my eye I spied a middle aged man rushing along the paving toward the waiting bus. He was almost inside when the bus driver closed the doors, forcing him to leap backward rather than be sandwiched half in half out. Ignoring the man, the driver pulled out into the traffic, causing a few squealed brakes and honked horns. Not too mention the verbal barrage the guy on the paving sent our way, which was lost through all the chaos. The driver sure was in a hurry to get his route finished.