Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse

by Bullion, Glenn

  He pointed to the door. "Get out."

  Andee left, and Jack let out a breath, enjoying the teenage-free quiet. He mentally prepared for the next phase of the evening.

  "Okay, it's time to cook some dinner. Do you want to watch a movie, or give me a hand? You've got an hour before bed."

  "Help you!" she said, throwing her arms in the air. "Come on, Dad. I always help you cook for Miss Hernandez."

  "Alright then, partner. Let's hit it."

  Jack didn't need Tiffany's help, but let her retrieve a spatula, salt and pepper, simple things. He planned the meal carefully out in his head. A simple dish of grilled chicken with a small side of rice. Just enough to satisfy the appetite, but not enough to feel stuffed. He had plans for her after dinner that a food coma wouldn't help with.

  Tiffany stood on the tips of her toes to peer over the stove.

  "Can I have some?"

  "You already had pizza."

  "I know, but it smells so good."

  "No."

  "Please?"

  "Don't make me beat you with this spatula."

  "Well, since I can't have chicken, can I stay up past my bedtime? Just so I can hang out with you guys?"

  Jack laughed and shook his head. Tiffany and he had only been together for a few months, and as close as they were, they were still in the process of feeling things out, learning about each other. She constantly tested and pushed her boundaries, like all children do. Staying up past her bedtime, watching movies she wasn't supposed to watch, spending extra time surfing the Internet, eating ice cream for breakfast. He refused all her attempts, with the exception of ice cream for breakfast. That was actually a good idea.

  "Tiff," was his answer, as he shook the spatula at her.

  "Okay, okay. Jeez."

  She sat at a stool at the breakfast bar behind him, resting her head in her hands. She kicked the bar lightly with her feet, which threatened to drive Jack crazy. He was convinced children had some kind of supernatural power to rattle an adult's nerves with little to no effort.

  "Daddy…."

  Jack smiled, but dreaded what was to come. Tiffany had three names for him. Jack, Dad, and Daddy. He was equally fine with all of them, but noticed Tiffany went to Daddy when she wanted something.

  "What is it, partner?"

  "Can Robbie spend the night over our house this weekend?"

  He nearly dropped the spatula. He moved the chicken and rice to the other half of the stove so they wouldn't burn. Turning in place, his eyes met Tiffany's. She looked up at him, projecting cute, trying to flash that smile of hers.

  She was serious.

  "You're shitting me, right? Robbie's a boy."

  "I know. So? Can he?"

  "Hell, no."

  She pouted. "Why not? Miss Hernandez spends the night over here all the time. And you're a boy, and she's a girl."

  "We're also old. That's what old people do."

  "Okay…so, when can he spend the night?"

  "When you're twenty-five years old."

  "Twenty-five?" She looked down at her fingers, silently counting them. "That's too far!"

  "Jesus, Tiff, give me a break. Don't you have other things to think about? Do you even know what you're dressing up as for Halloween yet? You haven't picked out a costume. How about a ghost, or maybe even a witch?" He lifted the corner of his mouth, silently musing with himself. "Old Glinda would just love that."

  "I don't wanna dress up like those scary demon monster things. I…still have bad dreams sometimes. I wanna be a ballerina." Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Maybe I can dress up like a bat! Then I'd look just like Alex!"

  Jack rolled his eyes at the thought of Alex Teague. Alex could keep his wings and ghostly demonic powers in Baltimore where they belonged.

  "A ballerina will do just fine." He shifted the subject. "Anyway, girls your age aren't supposed to think about spending the night with boys. You're supposed to think about…shit, I don't know…Barbie dolls, and little dresses. Hanging out with your little girlfriends in school, and sleepovers with girls—"

  Her face brightened. "I can have a sleepover?"

  "No. No, no. That's not what I said—"

  "I can invite Jenny!"

  "Jenny's a moron. I'm telling you, she's not all there in the head. She breathes with her mouth open—"

  "And Melissa! Everyone likes Melissa."

  "I'll bet they do. She's a stage-humper in training."

  Tiffany wrinkled her nose. "What's a stage-humper?"

  "Unfortunately, sweetie, you'll never find out."

  "Yeah, I will." She crossed her arms. "I'll just look it up on the Internet."

  "Then I'll cut the wifi. How about that?"

  "No! Please don't, Dad. I was just joking."

  Jack smiled. "That's what I thought."

  Tiffany gave him a minute of quiet while he prepared two plates. Curiosity set in as he glanced at the time. He thought Erica would have arrived already. A smile crossed his face. Perhaps she was picking out a special outfit for him.

  "Sooo," Tiffany said. "Instead of Robbie spending the night over here, can I have a sleepover instead? With girls from school?"

  He let out a sigh. He'd stepped directly into the bear trap. Facing her, she still had that smile. Was it possible a sleepover was her plan the entire time? He didn't put it past her. She was a devious, adorable little genius.

  His stomach dropped at the thought of squealing, hyper girls running through their house.

  "Okay," he said. "But you seriously might want to think about Jenny. I don't want drool all over the place."

  "Thank you!" She dropped from the stool and ran around the breakfast bar. "Thank you thank you thank you! I love you, Daddy!"

  He laughed at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, yeah. Go start getting ready for bed. Take a bath, brush your teeth. If Erica's not here when you get out, you can read me a story."

  She stopped to catch her breath. "Okay."

  She turned and took a step to head for the stairs, but then spun around suddenly and sprinted toward Jack. She wrapped her arms around his legs, squeezing him tight. Jack smiled and knelt down, hugging his daughter.

  "I really do love you," Tiffany said, completely serious. "Thank you for being my Dad, and taking care of me."

  A stab of emotion pierced his heart. He tried to push it aside, out of old habit, but decided to embrace it.

  "I love you, too, sweetie. Thank you for taking care of me."

  Tiffany ran and disappeared up the stairs. A tear ran down his cheek, and he wasn't sure why. Centuries without sleep made him break down at times, a form of temporary insanity. He'd collapse in the corner, scream, cry, rage. Ever since the magical trinket Kevin gifted him, he didn't have a single episode. He wiped the tear on his finger and stared at it. Why the waterworks now?

  Jack shifted his attention back to dinner as he heard the bath water run upstairs. He moved dinner to the breakfast bar and set up a few sodas. He didn't drink alcohol at all. It served him no purpose; he couldn't get drunk. Erica would sip wine, but not on a weeknight. They would just have to have nasty, dirty sex with no alcohol involved.

  He sat on the couch and watched TV. So much time passed that Tiffany finished her bath and brushed her teeth. She poked her head down the stairs with a towel wrapped around her. She was so small, and the towel so big, it looked like a huge dress. Her wet hair went in all directions.

  "Dad? Is Miss Hernandez here?"

  "No. Not yet." He looked away from the TV. "Weird."

  "Will you brush my hair? And then I can read you a story. I'm getting better with some of the big words."

  "I'll be right up, partner. Just let me call her. Finish drying off."

  Jack picked up the phone and dialed Erica's number. She only had one number, her cell phone. He laughed to himself as the phone rang. He remembered the first conversation he had over a wired phone with Victoria, more than a hundred years ago. Now mortals were dropping their land lines, content to drag their phone number whe
rever they went.

  Erica didn't answer. Her voice mail picked up. He waited a minute before trying again. The second time it went directly to voice mail without a ring, as if the phone was turned off between calls.

  A feeling of uneasiness crept over him.

  He dialed another number. He hated talking to anyone outside his small inner circle, but he did have the number of Erica's neighbor, Caroline. Caroline was old, annoying, and very nosy, always sticking her nose in his business when he visited Erica's house. In this case, that nosiness may have been a helpful thing.

  "Hello?"

  "Caroline, this is Jack. You know, Erica's boyfriend."

  "Excuse me? Did you say Mack?"

  "No, Jack."

  "Zack? I don't know a Zack."

  "Jack! You wrinkly, dried up old…." He reigned in his temper. "Look, is Erica home? That's your neighbor. One house to the left of yours."

  "Ah, Erica? Actually, no, she's not. It was funny. She came home, and then ran right back out with some guy. She didn't look happy. It looked like they might have been arguing. I watched through the window. I hope she's cheating on her boyfriend. That man is a real dick."

  Jack hung up and replayed the woman's words in his mind. Erica left her home with someone that wasn't Jack, in a hurry, without so much as calling him.

  Something was wrong.

  *****

  Jack was pacing in the kitchen when a knock finally came at the door. He checked his phone every few minutes, and not a word from Erica. Tiffany was up, past her bedtime, eating ice cream at the breakfast bar. The ice cream kept her oblivious to her father's mood.

  "I'll get it!" Tiffany shouted.

  She ran across the house to the front door. She swung open the door and blinked in surprise.

  "Oh. Hi, Andee. I thought you were Miss Hernandez."

  "Hey, Tiff. You're still up? Is everything cool?"

  Jack stood behind the couch. He scowled, trying his best to keep his composure. Tiffany stretched out along the couch.

  "What the hell took you so long?"

  "I stopped for gas and a milkshake on the way home. I just walked in the front door when my mom said you called. She said you were mad, that I needed to get back here fast. Mom thinks I did something wrong, like ripping you off or something." She held up her palms. "Mr. Jack, come on, you agreed with the rates. If you think I charge too much—"

  "Your rates are fine. In fact, I need you to babysit again for me."

  She hesitated. "Right now?"

  "No. Twelve hours ago." Jack rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course, now."

  "But I was just here. I mean…how long are we talking? An hour? This is real short notice, Mr. Jack. And it's a school night. I'm sorry, but I can't do it."

  "And why is that?"

  "Because of my mom, that's why. I can't be out past ten on a school night, even to babysit."

  "Just tell her you're having sex over your boyfriend's house."

  "Hey!" She gestured to Tiffany, but the child was barely paying attention. "Anyway, I just can't. My mom will ground me for two weeks. She'll take away my cell phone and my tablet."

  "Whoa, wait. Your cell phone…and your tablet? What kind of monstrous bitch is your mother?"

  She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head, the patented teenage look. Jack pulled cash from his pocket.

  "Very funny."

  "Here's five hundred bucks. You get another five when I get back. I know high school math is hard, but that's a thousand dollars. Is that enough to go without technology for a while?"

  Andee hesitated. She studied Jack's face, trying to determine how serious he was. She reached and grabbed the money, but didn't quite take it.

  "I'll still have to lie to Mom. She won't like this."

  "You're a bright, imaginative girl. I'm sure you'll think of something."

  Tiffany sat up as Andee pocketed the money.

  "Ooh. Can I have money, too?"

  "No." He knelt down in the front of the couch and took Tiffany's hand. "Look, sweetie, I'll be gone just for a little bit. I know this is weird, but just go to bed like normal. Andee will keep an eye on you."

  "Can I stay up with her and watch cartoons?"

  "No."

  She looked down. "Okay."

  "I'll be back soon," he said, addressing them both.

  CHAPTER 7

  Something was immediately wrong as Jack parked outside Erica's house. Her car was gone, the front door wide open. Caroline the nosy neighbor was staring at him through a curtain as he marched up the sidewalk.

  He stood at the front door and peered into the living room, taking it all in. It was useless to call out her name. He knew she wasn't home.

  The living room light was already on. Nothing was out of place. The usual clutter decorated her coffee table. A light jacket hung over the arm of the couch. Pictures lined the walls, all perfect and straight. There was no fight, no struggle.

  He gave a cursory look to the other rooms in the house. The only mess was her bed, where they'd had sex the day before during her lunch break. The bathroom, dining room, all fine.

  The kitchen was where he found his direction.

  A piece of paper sat on a cutting board next to the sink, pinned in place by a large knife.

  It was a Google map, showing the front of an empty office complex, with step by step directions from Erica's home. He was familiar with the location, and crumpled the paper in his hand.

  A feeling he wasn't used to mixed with his rage as he left Erica's house. Anxiety. He cared about two mortals. That was it. Two. He was a different person around them. They gave him strength, and made him weak at the same time. He felt nothing earlier in the day, when Martin held a knife to Tina's throat.

  He didn't feel nothing now.

  Jack climbed in his truck and pulled away.

  The office complex on the Google map was on the other side of town. The scent of salt in the air slowly faded away as he left the beach behind. Houses and neighborhoods gave way to strip malls and parking lots, until he finally turned into the office complex. The suites near the main road were occupied by businesses, but further back was deserted. They used to be medical offices, but now they were just empty, waiting for their next tenants. The only thing at the rear of the office complex was an empty parking lot and a few lights spaced around. No cameras, no people. The perfect place for shady business.

  He drove slow. He didn't know what he was walking into, or even what he was looking for. The map left at Erica's house was obviously meant for him. He didn't know what was going on, but the priorities were simple. Get Erica to safety first. Everything else came after.

  Erica's car was parked ahead, just in the shadows past one of the light poles. The headlights were off, and he could see two shapes behind the windshield. What he wouldn't give to have Victoria's, or even Alex Teague's, ability to see in the dark.

  He stopped the truck when the driver's side door opened. A man he'd never seen before in his long life stepped out. Jack's fists clenched when he realized the stranger was dragging Erica across the seats. A handful of hair in one hand, a gun in the other.

  "I'm glad you made it!" the stranger shouted. "I didn't have to leave a ransom note or anything. And you got here quick, too."

  Jack had been in similar situations many times before. A gunman using a hostage to manipulate him, blocking him from an objective. It never worked. He simply didn't care about the hostage.

  This situation was far different. Erica was the objective.

  He climbed out of his truck slowly, keeping his hands visible so the stranger would relax. He shoved his feelings deep down. The stranger still gripped Erica by the hair, arching her back, shoving the barrel of the gun into the back of her head. She cried out as she tried to grab his hand, ease his grip.

  "He's crazy!" Erica shouted. "He was waiting for me in my house—"

  "Shut up!"

  The stranger shoved her to the ground violently. Jack took a step forward, but s
topped when the stranger pointed the gun at Erica. Tears ran down her face as she stayed down on the concrete.

  Jack's brow furrowed. Whoever the stranger was, he was already a dead man. It didn't matter if it was a case of mistaken identity, or if he was the son of the president.

  Nothing would save him.

  Jack studied the man as best he could in the flickering light. Definitely mortal. Blond hair, probably in his early forties. He hadn't shaved in a day or so, sporting a stubbly look. He wore a pair of jeans with a flannel shirt. Probably some kind of blue collar job, maybe a construction worker. Jack could see the hate in his eyes. He held the gun with confidence. It was not the first time he wielded a weapon.

  He looked down at Erica. The first mortal he cared for since he'd been cursed. Laying on the pavement, her life in danger.

  "Are you okay?" he asked her.

  Erica nodded, afraid to move.

  "Wow, Jack," the stranger said. "As old as you are, I'd have thought you'd have a nicer truck."

  "Well, it gets me from point A to B. Can't ask for much more than that, right? So, you know me. Who might you be?"

  "Kurt Shaeffer. I'm guessing you don't know that name, right?"

  "Can't say I do. I don't know what your problem is, but it's obviously with me. Erica doesn't need to be here."

  Jack took a step forward. Kurt did the same and pointed the gun at Erica's head. She clenched her eyes shut and recoiled.

  "If you take one more step, I'll kill this woman. I'll spread her brains all over the parking lot."

  "That," Jack raised a finger. "Is the very last thing you want to do."

  "Oh, what are you gonna do? You gonna kill me? You gonna rip me to little pieces?" He leaned forward to shout at Erica. "I fucking told you! Your boyfriend's not who you think he is."

  Erica looked up, and through the tears, Jack saw confusion, along with doubt.

  "Jack? What's he talking about?"

  "Oh my God, I can't believe you haven't told her anything." Kurt looked up for a moment, exasperated.

  "Look, Kurt—"

  Jack stopped when Kurt lifted the gun, pointing it at him. He froze in confusion. Why would Kurt point the gun at him?