by R. L. Wilson
“You’re back here in the cafe in Detroit,” Kato says. “What did you see?”
I describe the boy and the lady and the bloody werewolves. Tears fill my eyes. Images of what happened to the lady and boy replay in my mind. Are the werewolves after them? I know I can’t save them…can I?
“I’m sorry to tell you, but it sounds as if you’ve been cursed.” Kato collects the small bag and the vial of blood from the table. His voice is lower and more even.
My mouth becomes dry as I tremble at the calmness in his voice. It’s the sympathy voice. It’s the same tone Momma had when she informed me of my father’s grave condition. I understand I have a curse, but is this curse eternal? Was I stuck with Prentiss forever?
“But I still have the collar off and I’m fine.”
“I’ll take your blood sample and do research. Maybe the curse is from the collar. If so, you have no reason to worry.”
He slides to the edge of the seat and stands. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Wait, let me give you my address and phone number.”
He blushes. “I’ll find you.”
Chapter 4
Thunder, lightning, and raindrops hit the cement around me as I race down the street. The sun was shining and the sky was clear before I went to the diner. I don’t fear the rain. I love rain, it’s the lightning that petrifies me. The rain is a constant reminder I need to make money so the rent gets paid this month. Or I’ll be homeless, me and Morgan.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’d be homeless. Two years ago, I left my mother’s home and found myself on the streets. I love my mother, but she’s impossible to live with.
I make it to my porch and let out a sigh. My hair is dripping wet and my cloth pants cling to my legs as I race up the stairs and into my apartment.
“What are you doing home this early?” Morgan asks.
I continue across the plush carpet, passing the blue leather sofa, to the bathroom. I grab a towel to dry my hair. I’m not trying to ignore Morgan, but I didn’t want to soak the carpet.
Morgan has an aunt who helped her get a high-paying job, and she doesn’t make minimum wage, I do. It’s been hard for me to make the rent for three months. But I’ve tried.
As I continue down the hall drying my hair, I debate if I should go in the living room and talk to her. I’m still tired from the healing this morning and don’t want to hear Morgan complain.
I continue into the front room and plop on the sofa. I wrap my hair in the bath towel.
Morgan sits in the recliner watching the news. She veers her gaze my way. “So.”
“What?” I lean back on the sofa and peer at the television, trying to avoid her puzzled eyes.
“Did you get fired?”
The question rolls off her tongue like syrup. She sits there with her arms folded, waiting for an answer. I’ve had trouble before quite often with the rent. She is within her rights to ask. Morgan gives it to you straight, no chaser.
“No. I didn’t get fired. They summoned me to do a healing.”
“A healing? You left work to do free healings for Prentiss?” she quietly snarls, turning back to give me an intense glare.
Her slender face is now even longer. I shrug. I’m not enthused—what did she want me to do? It was an injured supernatural. Morgan’s all human, even though she knows about the contract she doesn’t completely understand the supernatural world. She once told me to just rip the contract to shreds or take Prentiss to court.
“Harmony,” her voice now raised, “if you are going to leave work and do a healing, Prentiss needs to pay you; he pays everybody else. We have bills around here.” Wrinkles appear across her forehead.
I roll my eyes. “I know we have bills, including rent, and I will have the rent next week.”
She lets out a huff. “The same shit every other month,” she mumbles.
“Morgan, let it go. I said I will have the rent.”
“How patient are they going to be before they fire you?” She rolls her eyes and turns in the direction of the television.
I’m guessing she’s done with her lecture.
A knock on the door echoes from the hall and is delightful to hear. Maybe this will shut Morgan’s mouth temporarily.
Morgan rises to her feet and slaps a rubber band around her long black hair. She goes to the door and swings it open.
I notice the black shoes before his face appears. Scott is my other best friend. He loves Nikes too. We all have been friends since middle school. He doesn’t come over much since he started dating Bethany.
A grin blessed my face at the sight of Scott’s tall, stocky frame, but he had a serious expression on his face. I can sense there is a problem.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
His blue eyes dart around the room, then he takes a seat on the couch next to me. Morgan hovers nearby, anticipating something vital rolling off his tongue.
“I was at the library today and read an article in an old book regarding a girl who was cursed by vampires and the only way she breaks the curse is by letting them bite her.” His eyes got wider and danced back and forth between me and Morgan.
“No, no, no.” I sit up on the couch. “I’ve tried telling Morgan, but she has an attitude.”
“Telling me what?” Morgan says then takes a seat on the recliner.
“I met this man today, Kato. He told me I’m cursed, which is not news, but he stated it could be from the collar.” I lift my chin to show them the collar is off. “I haven’t been sick since I took it off.”
“Where is it?” Morgan asks.
“In my purse. He also blew some dust in my face and I saw a vision.” I hate reliving the scary vision. It will freak Morgan out, but it happened.
“A vision of what?” She moves closer to the edge of the chair.
“A lady from years ago with a bloody knife in her hand.” As I tremble, I recount the events.
“Who is this Kato?” Scott asked.
“He’s a nice guy, a Voodoo priest.”
“A Voodoo priest?” they both ask with their mouths and eyes wide open.
“Yes, a Voodoo priest.” I know why they are concerned but not every Voodoo priest is bad. And I know Kato is safe. But by the expressions on their faces, you would think I said a serial killer.
Scott’s face contorts in a frown. His rough glare would have sent shivers through me if I were afraid of him.
“Did you give him any of your blood?” Scott asks.
“Yes, he’s going to run some tests. Listen, I trust him.” It’s my way of trying to soothe Scott. I hate when he’s angry.
“Your collar is off; make an escape,” Morgan prods.
“It’s already crossed my mind. But I’ve thought of Momma; I’d have to leave her behind.” She’s afraid to leave the house. Maybe I can convince her.
A sudden sadness comes over me. Leaving my friends is devastating. Scott and Morgan are family to me.
Blinking back tears, I glare over at Morgan. My muscles tense. I take a hard swallow of pain.
“It’s okay, Morgan, your life is worth more than anything. I’ll be fine.”
She rises to her feet and walks to me with her hands extended. I leap from the couch and hug her. She is my best friend and was there for me when no one else was. More than anything, I know both of them love me unconditionally.
Scott appears visibly mad, his face flushed with anger. I know Scott has romantic feelings for me. In high school, I entertained going out with him. I got scared, not wanting to ruin our friendship. Then Bethany came into the picture, killing any romantic chances we had. But I must admit, he is handsome with nice slick blond hair and a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. He even got my name tattooed on him in Chinese letters. I went with him to get it. He told me when Bethany asked what it meant he said harmony, like peace.
“I second that, Harmony. You should get away from here. If it will make you happier, I’m all for it,” Scott says.
“I have somethi
ng to tell you both,” Scott announces to us both. He takes three guilty steps back. He bites his lip and stares at the floor. He’s nervous it’s something stupid. I fix him with a stare.
“Bethany is pregnant.”
Pregnant? I’m in shock. My hands shake. She barely lets him outside now and with a baby, he will be Bethany’s prisoner. I’m trying to forget the words flying out of his mouth.
Morgan does her happy dance. “Congratulations, Scott!”
“Aren’t you happy for me, Harmony?”
“Yep,” I let out a sigh. “Are you happy about this?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he nods his head, “I’m going to be a father.”
Hell no, I’m not happy. Scott is barely twenty, he knows nothing in regards to being a father. Bethany has been trying to get her claws in him for years. She’s a shifter from Night Heights. I’m not sure why Scott even got involved with her. She’s been involved with several other paranormals within the last year.
I wanted me and Scott to be together one day, but it’s not going to happen. I’m emotional; everything is happening simultaneously. I’m free, I’m moving, Scott’s having a baby, and I might have to leave my mother behind.
I give Scott a hug “Congratulations, I’ll go pack now.”
Scott pins me with his gaze. I’m trapped in his eyes. Trying to hide my emotions. I’m not happy for him at all, and he knows.
I race out of the room fighting back tears.
Chapter 5
I stuff my clothes in a suitcase then slam it shut. I don’t want to leave, but Scott and Morgan insist. I scrape together my life savings of four hundred and seventy-eight dollars. I have an aunt in New Orleans and I’m sure she’ll let me stay with her. All I need is a Greyhound ticket and to convince Momma to come.
I grab my bag and shuffle to the front door. Morgan and Scott are both sitting on the couch. A panicked expression clouds Morgan’s face. She’s always been vocal.
A heavy exhalation escapes my lips as I scan the living room for more of my possessions.
“Your tattoo is getting larger, I have a creepy feeling.” Morgan says shaking her head while staring at my neck.
I’m curious, but the tattoo isn’t hurting me. Morgan hands me a mirror. “Look at how large it’s gotten.”
I grab the mirror to view the tattoo. I flick my long blonde hair over my shoulder and glare at my reflection in the mirror. The tattoo is rough, staring back at me. I run my finger across the warm, scaly texture. My God, it has gotten larger since this morning. Is this a sign? I’ve had the tattoo since my adolescent years.
“It’s mandatory, get out of town and stop performing the healings,” Morgan says. “Seems like they’re related.”
“I hope not.” My flat tone has Scott trembling.
He wasn’t paying much attention to Morgan; all eyes are on me. His glowing green eyes had taken over, and for a second, I forgot my circumstances.
“I’m not sure, but it might,” Scott says and takes a huge swig of water.
I’m freaked out, and there’s no time to waste. There are rumors about a girl who tried escaping, never to be seen again. I don’t want my face plastered across a milk carton.
“You have to consider yourself,” Scott says. He always has my best interest at heart and I have no reason to believe he doesn’t now.
I grab him and give him a bear hug. I sniffle and let him go, wiping my tears.
“This is not goodbye. I’ll see you later.” Scott says.
As I stand in front of Momma’s building, I cringe in disgust. She doesn’t own the building, but she has lived there longer than I can remember. She lives in a rundown flat she should be happy to leave. But she won’t. Her stress, bipolar, and anxiety are terrible; she never leaves. She orders everything off television, Amazon, and groceries from Peapod. She has gotten comfortable in the house and wants me to stay inside with her. She thinks someone is always out to kill us both. Right now, I have one shot to convince her to come with me.
I bang on the door and get a whiff of fried chicken. Geesh, I’m hungry. My stomach growls. I need a home-cooked meal.
“Hey, Harmony”. Her brown eyes twinkle and she giggles. Her laugh is infectious. I’m her only child—she is overbearing, but there is nothing she wouldn’t do for me.
“Why do you have your suitcase? Are you moving in?” she asks.
I continue into the house, closing the door behind me. “No Momma, but I’m hungry.”
“You’re right on time for dinner.”
I pass the large red sofa, as the sun shines through the cracks of the zebra print curtains. Momma has a plain jane sense of fashion, so I helped her decorate. I enter the dining room and rest my suitcase against the wooden china cabinet. Viewing the dozens of pictures on the wall gives me great sadness. Pictures of Dad and me when I was a child. I miss him so much.
The peach-colored walls, the aroma of fried chicken, and homemade mashed potatoes all tell me I’m home.
Momma walks in the dining room, carrying a plate of food. She puts the plate in front of me. And I dig in like it is my last meal. I don’t have much money, and I haven’t had Momma’s chicken in a long time. I fill my belly until my pants are too tight.
Morgan doesn’t cook and neither do I. We eat quick foods, something to pop in the microwave or Burger King, and I’m sick of burgers.
“How is Morgan doing?
“She’s fine, Momma, working hard.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I haven’t seen you in a while.” She extends her hand out, and I put my hand in hers.
“No, what are you doing?” Her trembling hands grip mine tight.
“Momma, what’s wrong?”
Her face becomes pale and the dark circles around her eyes become exaggerated. She appears to have seen a ghost, but she is having a conversation with someone.
My heart flutters, but I stay calm. She has visions.
“Momma, what do you see?” I’m concerned because Momma appears more terrified than usual.
“A young lady…she is hurt, there is blood everywhere.” She eases her grip on my hand and covers her mouth. “Please, someone help.” She screams.
Her visions, the anxiety, have taken a toll on our relationship. However, she is my mother and I love her no matter what. Doctors told me not to feed into her visions, they aren’t real. But they are real to Momma and I can’t blow her off.
“A young boy running, with dark hair…he’s missing a shoe.” The fear in her voice sends a ball of pain shooting through my stomach, like a star in the middle of the night. The boy from my vision earlier. I want to talk to him, what happened? Why is he running?
I inch over and kneel until we face each other. She looks past me, tears filled her eyes. I wrap my arms around her, as she tries pulling away from my thin limbs, but I pull her in close.
“Stay calm, Momma,” I whisper.
Her posture relaxes but fear still dances across her face. The more I view her face, the weaker the veil appears. The vision is clear.
“Momma, I see him, can he hear us?”
The thump of my heartbeat is loud and rapid. Momma had plenty of visions before but I’d never been able to view them. She is not crazy. The visions are real.
“No, but if you have a glimpse of him the veil between the living and the dead world is getting weaker.” Momma’s cringes, her eyes widen, her face flushed with fear. “The wolves, they’re chasing him,” she gasps.
I lose the vision of the young boy, but Momma is stuck in the illusion. I tried quieting her screams once her anxiety had taken over. I’m not sure if she could hear me, but then a loud bang came from the door.
Momma put her hand over her mouth, muffling her screams. Now she’s terrified, glaring at the door.
“It’s okay.”
I turn to answer the door when Momma grabs my arm. I dart my gaze back to Momma, the hopelessness showing in her face. Her expression says danger is lurking, but she doesn’t say a word. I pry my arm away fro
m her death grip and race to the door.
I assume it’s the neighbors, concerned because of the screaming. Without asking for a name, I open the door. And Prentiss stands there with a snarl. His bulky arms folded, his stance defensive.
I back away from the door as he makes his way farther into my house.
He glances over at Momma and waves. Her breathing becomes more labored and she grimaces as if she’s in pain. The pain is the sight of him. She doesn’t know Prentiss, but she knows danger.
“It’s rude not to offer me a seat.” He slams the door behind him and takes a seat on the sofa.
What the hell is he doing here, and furthermore, how did he know where my mother lives? He knows everyone in the neighborhood. I’m sure he asked. He has a lot of nerve coming to my mother’s house unannounced.
“What are you doing here?” I clench my teeth. Blood shoots fast through my veins to my brain; everything’s red. “My mother is not involved in this, so leave her out of it.”
“I came to check on you. Where’s the collar?” He crosses his legs.
I stand there in silence. There must be a tracking device in this damn collar. Anger flits across his face as he waits for an answer. He shakes his head as his eyes buck.
“Let me make this clear. If you leave, everything you love will be destroyed. The paranoia your mother has will be catastrophic. Morgan, she is a fine little thing and I’m sure I could get a lot of money for her.”
“If you touch my family…”
He bolts off the couch. “You will do what?” He stands within an inch of me. My heart thunders inside my chest. I back away from him, hitting the wall.
He eyes me holding on to his waist. “Oh yeah, Scott will never meet his baby. If you’re willing to sacrifice everything for your freedom, leave.”
I hate ever getting myself in this situation. I’m suffocating with no way out. All my concentration is on Momma. Her safety, her sanity. Hallucinating, my spirit is leaving my body. They will be better without me. I could rid myself of this curse and guarantee safety for my family.
