Capricorn Cursed

by Sèphera Girón

  She decided to go with framed posters of old movies and chose West Side Story, Romeo and Juliet and Gone with the Wind as well as a few smaller placards.

  Her apartment felt like a vintage store.

  She went into her bedroom. At least she didn’t feel out of place there yet. She had saged it and, so far, the ghosts seemed to be staying away.

  Her mind was racing. What a day it had been. It had started with a phone call from that Bob guy. He wanted her to go over to read for him. He’d sounded so nervous that she almost didn’t take the job. But a job was a job, and who was she to decide whether or not he was allowed to communicate with a dearly departed person? His intentions could be pure, for all she knew.

  Still, something about it all didn’t seem right.

  Then she had gone through the ordeal of picking up the curtains and actually hanging them. What a pain in the ass that had been. She was sure her friends would have killed themselves laughing had they seen her climbing up on the window ledges to push the drape brackets in place.

  She had bought some colorful green-and-yellow throw pillows and a tan afghan for the couch. She also purchased more gemstones, cleansed them and placed them in strategic corners. She even threw out the poor dead tree and replaced it with an artificial jade plant made from silk.

  Ellie had left her feng shui charts and Gwen’s astrology charts with Natasha. Natasha had poured over them, trying to find even more little things she could do to activate her love energy and be rid of the ghosts. She bought several pieces of rose quartz and hid them in every love corner of every room.

  By the time she had finished all her shopping, rearranging, pounding nails into the wall and fiddling with the stones, she was mentally exhausted. She lay back on the bed and thought about Gus. Why hadn’t he answered her email? He was the one who had asked her out. She had accepted. Was he so surprised at her agreement? Why couldn’t he just pick a date? Men were so weird.

  Closing her eyes, she imagined his face in front of her. That mysterious, troubled, strong-jawed, dark-eyed face.

  How handsome he was. So broad and muscular. She ached to feel his arms around her again. She dreamed about how his kisses had been so gentle, so soft.

  She ran her hands along her breasts, imaging him touching her. How he would kiss her from her neck to her ears, from her cheek to her forehead. His strong fingers would part her legs and rub her pussy firmly.

  Natasha pulled off her pants and panties, lay back down and spread her legs. Her fingers touched her swollen clit as she thought about Gus touching her there. She rubbed herself, imagining his hot breath on her neck. How he would tweak her nipple and pull at her breasts. She arched her back so she could slide her fingers into her pussy. Her heat surprised her, and she pushed her fingers in deeper as she imagined them to be his cock.

  She pushed against her hand, enjoying the tingling sensations as she stroked herself harder and faster.

  It was Gus’s cock she was fucking; it was Gus’s lips she was kissing.

  She rolled over onto her stomach, keeping her hands between her legs. As she pushed herself against the bed, she imagined Gus flipping her onto her hands and knees to fuck her doggy-style. She imagined his big cock slamming into her, pushing her into the bed until he finally came.

  Her muscles clamped around her hand, and she climaxed with a groan.

  She lay panting for a moment, thoughts of Gus retreating from her mind as sleep overtook her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Beware of strangers.

  Capture

  As Natasha climbed the wooden stairs that led to the front door, a thought flashed through her mind.

  There are no ghosts here.

  She shrugged off the idea, as she had so many other times when she was called to strange, creepy houses. How many times had Maggie warned her not to go to clients’ houses alone?

  Natasha shook her head and slapped the large clapper against the door. She stood on the porch, hugging her coat tightly around herself as she tried to hide behind the porch swing from the chilly wind.

  Within minutes, Bob, the man from the flea market, opened the door.

  “Come in, Miss Natasha,” he said, indicating the front hallway. There were mounds of clutter everywhere, from the front hall and into the living room—piles of clothes, boots, fishing tackle and Lord knew what else as far as the eye could see

  “Probably messier than what you’re used to. I can’t afford servants, and I don’t have a wife,” he said. “My wife passed. That’s why you’re here.”

  “Of course,” Natasha said as she picked her way through the home. The locket on her chest burned so hot that she could feel it through her shirt.

  A wife. Maggie had said he had asked about his father.

  He led her into a room with a wooden table and two chairs. There were three candles to light the whole room.

  “It’s a bit dark. Can’t afford much in the way of candles,” he said.

  “I understand,” Natasha said as she gingerly sat down. She put her purse on the floor beside her. “Candles are good for talking to the spirits.”

  He sat down in the chair across from her. “I want to talk to her. Really talk to her,” he said, his eyes glittering in the darkness.

  “We can,” Natasha reassured him. “Just close your eyes.”

  She shut her eyes and waited for the dead wife to come forth. There was nothing.

  Just a dark sense of urgency.

  A noise swirled in her head. A warning.

  She realized she should leave, but it was too late. There was only darkness.

  * * *

  When she woke, she realized she must be in a basement. She tried to stand but hit her head on steel. Many candles lit the dingy room, and she discovered she was in a cage. Across from her, the man from the flea market snored lightly. There wasn’t much else in the room besides the couch Bob lay on and the cage. A table. A couple of chairs.

  She pulled at the bars, but they held firm. She ran her fingers along the cold steel trying to find a latch, but there was none. Her locket was gone. She saw it glinting over on the table.

  Realizing she was trapped, she let out an unearthly howl.

  The sound raised the man from his sleep.

  “What the fu…?” he said as he turned his gaze towards her. “Oh, I see you’re awake.” He shook himself and stood up. “A vampire. My God. Who knew?”

  He laughed as Natasha’s rage boiled within her.

  “What do you want from me? I’ve done nothing to you,” she screamed.

  The man stopped and stared at her. “Does William McKenzie ring a bell?”

  Natasha stared blankly at him.

  “No? Of course not. Why would you get to know the people who keep you alive?” Bob said angrily.

  When Natasha didn’t answer, he continued on, his voice choking with emotion. “He was my father. Not perfect, but the only one I had.”

  “I’m sorry,” Natasha said.

  “No, you aren’t. Your kind aren’t.”

  “I really…I mean, I don’t kill…”

  “Well, you did. He was so shamed, so traumatized…” Bob’s voice cracked.

  “Why? Because of who he was or what I was?”

  “It all came out. The clubs. The other women. He was so riddled with guilt. And my mom…her heart was broken. Why couldn’t you leave him alone?”

  “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “No one knew. No one knew until you came along. When they found him so sick…he confessed to it all. For years. His whole marriage was a lie.” The man sobbed.

  Natasha watched him coldly. “So why is it my fault he led a double life?”

  The man stood up and approached her cage. “You don’t get it, do you? If you hadn’t hurt him, he’d never have confessed.”

  “I didn’t kill him. It’s not my fault. He shouldn’t have been where he was without his wife. And he certainly should never have gone home with another woman.”r />
  The man sat down heavily on his chair. “I know. I think that too. But still, our lives were perfect before you came along. We had money. Lots of money. Now there’s none.”

  “That’s not my fault.”

  “Oh, but it is, and you’re going to pay.”

  “What do you want? I don’t have much money,” Natasha said.

  “I want you. I want you gone. I know how to do it. I’ve been waiting for you for five years, until the planets were aligned exactly right. That’s when you are the weakest and I’m the strongest. I’ve done my research. That day is very soon.”

  “Today is no different than any other,” Natasha scoffed. “You can’t hurt me.”

  “Yes, today is different. The next day is different again. It doesn’t matter what you think, I’m the one in charge. I know I will triumph.”

  Natasha watched him. He paced, and his forehead glistened with sweat. She sat back in her cage. His fear was the thickest scent she could sense. Above him, spirits were gathering.

  In amazement, she realized they were whispering about her. How to help me.

  They didn’t want their link to the human race to be destroyed.

  It would be a while before he would be able to put his thoughts together enough to do anything with her. In the meantime, she wondered if anyone would notice she was missing.

  When she awoke again, he was staring at her. All the lights in the basement were on, and he wore a white gown. She was grateful that she still wore her clothes.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  He grinned as he reached toward her. “Your hair is so pretty. I’ve always wanted to touch it. Can I touch it?” he asked, grabbing onto a clump that fell through the bars.

  “Let go,” she said.

  He jerked his hand back, causing her to press her face against the bars. “No, I won’t. I love you, Natasha.” He tried to kiss her, but she bared her teeth, tearing his lip.

  “Fuck,” he cried, sitting back. He held his mouth as blood spilled through his hand. “You like the taste of me, bitch?”

  “What answer do you want?” she replied, wiping her mouth with her hand. “I’m sure I don’t taste half as vile as you do.”

  “My blood is the best. And you’ll never have it.”

  “I just did.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He stood up and paced. He sobbed and paced, staring furtively over at her.

  “This isn’t how I meant it, Natasha.” He stopped and stood in front of the cage. “I mean, I like you.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “No, really.”

  “No, you want to kill me. You told me yourself.”

  “I want to kill vampires. You’re evil. But you, Natasha, I love you.”

  “I am vampire. What do you need to know?”

  “I need—I need to know you love me too.”

  Natasha laughed. “Why would I love you? Tell me, why? I don’t even know you.”

  “But I know you. I’ve followed you. I’ve seen you. I’ve listened to you play the violin. Will you play for me now?”

  Natasha stared in disbelief as he brought her violin to her. “How did you get that?”

  “Easy. I went into your house and took it.”

  Anger surged through her. She pulled at the bars in a rage. “You went into my house? That’s not fair,” she cried.

  “You killed my dad, remember? That’s not fair.”

  “I didn’t kill your dad. I’ve not killed anyone for… for…” She couldn’t remember. She knew she must have killed someone at some point, even virgins for her youth, but she didn’t remember. Yes, she did remember. There was Sandy only just the other day. He was right, she was evil.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore, Natasha,” he said hopefully. “Here, just play your violin.”

  “How the hell can I play when I’m in a cage?” she asked angrily. “You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy for you,” he said. “Crazy for your dark, mysterious eyes and your full, red lips.”

  “Stop it.”

  “I will.”

  Before Natasha realized what was happening, he had plunged a hypodermic needle into her hip. He pushed the plunger, and Natasha felt icy coldness running through her veins.

  There was blackness once more.

  * * *

  When Natasha woke again, bright fluorescent lights stung her eyes. She wore heavy chains on her feet, but she was free from the cage. There was nothing around her within reach. The cellar was empty except for her and the shackles around her ankles. There was a small casement window on the far wall. Although there was a ratty curtain over it, she saw shadows on the other side.

  Bob watched her from a safe distance on the stairs.

  “Now you’ll play for me,” he said as he picked up the violin and bow from beside him on the stairs.

  “Yes, I’ll play for you.” She sighed as she took her violin. She placed it under her chin and slid the bow along the strings. A mournful sound wailed from her fingertips as she played. The music filled the room, and soon the man grew teary-eyed.

  “Play something happier,” he finally said.

  “I’m not your puppet. You’re lucky I’m playing at all,” she retorted, vibrating her fingers into a rich, luxurious vibrato.

  “You are so beautiful when you play,” he said.

  She stopped and glared at him. “Silence. Or I will play no more.”

  “Very well,” he said

  She played, losing herself in the rich, fantastic tones that echoed through the room. Her mind was blank as her fingers danced along the fingerboard. She wasn’t in a basement. She wasn’t at a concert. She was inside the notes, humming and vibrating.

  Around them, the ghosts ebbed along the walls, watching and waiting, rolling their ethereal heads in time to her slow, undulating rhythm.

  The shadows in the casement window seemed to grow larger and then fade. When she finally finished, she handed the violin back to the man.

  “There, I played for you. Now will you let me go so I can get back to work?”

  “Oh no, Natasha. There’s no way I can let you go now. You might tell on me,” he said as he stomped up the stairs with the violin.

  “Let me go,” she roared, pulling at the shackles on her legs.

  “No,” replied the distant voice.

  “I want my necklace back,” she screamed.

  “You can’t have it. God knows what spells you’d cast on me,” he shouted.

  “Damn you,” she cried. She looked around the room. There had to be something she could use to escape the locks.

  As she crawled around, she became aware of a chemical smell permeating the room. Within seconds, she was asleep again.

  When she woke once more, she was shackled to a wall. The man stood in front of her, his lips twitching nervously into a smile.

  “My beautiful Natasha. You’re awake,” he said kindly. He reached over to push her hair back from her face. She spit at him. “Now, now. You must remain ladylike.”

  She tried to talk but realized he had placed a plastic ball gag into her mouth.

  “You’re still pretty, but you just can’t answer back,” he said. “Or bite me.” He stroked one of her breasts through the thin cotton of her blouse. “Very nice. I really think we can get to know each other now.”

  He fondled both her breasts. Natasha fought against the restraints, but they held her tight. In the far corner, several ghosts huddled, watching the scene unfold. To the side was the grieving face of a man. His energy spilled into her, and she stared at him. It was William McKenzie.

  His message was to his son.

  Natasha couldn’t say anything, so she closed her eyes. She willed the father to be gone, but when she opened her eyes, he was still there. Another face joined him. Another person who had died by her hand.

  She struggled against the shackles as Bob ran his hands between her legs.

  “You are my beauty, my queen. I can cure you, you know
.” He stepped back proudly and went over to small table he had set up while she was sleeping.

  He held out a cup of liquid. The stench from it turned her stomach.

  “Don’t worry. You don’t have to drink it. I heard this elixir would cure any vampire. I got it at the flea market. A man was selling it.”

  Natasha watched the spirits swirl over Bob. The shadows at the window flickered back and forth.

  Bob approached her with the steaming brew. The foul smell made Natasha dizzy.

  As Bob held the cup to pour the elixir over her head, there was a crashing from the window. The glass blew inward, and a large, clawed hand groped inside. The sound startled Bob, and much of the mixture slopped out over Natasha. She screamed as it seared through her, puffs of steam rising from her burning flesh. Droplets of it splashed into her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, the burning beginning in her left eye and rapidly blurring her vision.

  Bob stared with horror as a large man-beast wriggled through the window. The creature was muscular and covered in a thick mat of blond hair. Massive, furry hands slapped the potion from Bob and sent it flying onto the floor. The spirits shrank back into the corners as the enormous beast stood in front of Bob.

  “What the fuck are you?” Bob cried out, staring at the huge, gnashing jaws that dripped with drool.

  The wolf-man whacked Bob into a corner with one hand and loped over to the screaming Natasha. She cried as the acid burned into her, searing her flesh from her bones. The skin on her face was melting; her hair fell out in clumps.

  Bob moaned from the floor, struggling to get up as the wolf-man easily tore away the leather straps that held Natasha. As the wolf-man tried to hold her up, Bob scrambled to his feet and jumped onto the wolf-man’s back.

  “Don’t free her. She’s evil. She’s a vampire.”

  The wolf-man turned and tore at him with his clawed hand. The flesh on Bob’s face easily ripped away, exposing his jaw and cheekbone. Bob screamed as the wolf-man tackled him to the ground. Natasha fell over, going unconscious; the last sounds she heard were Bob’s screams as the beast pulled him apart.