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

by Bullion, Glenn

  "Don't get cute over there. We both know what's in this gun. Silver bullets will kill her just as easily as it does you."

  A werewolf. Jack held in a laugh. Kurt thought he was a werewolf. Jack thought back to the first time he met Kevin Mishnar. Why did everyone assume he was a werewolf?

  "Silver bullets," Erica said. "You really are crazy."

  "I said shut up!" He trained the gun back to Erica and focused on Jack. "Lehrer Hospital, 1943. Is this bringing back any memories?"

  It actually did. Jack remained quiet, stealing a glance at Erica.

  "He killed everyone there," Kurt said. "It was a hospital in Nazi territory. Full of the sick and elderly. He killed them all. Patients, doctors, staff."

  "A hospital, during World War II?" Erica said. "Jack wasn't even alive then."

  "Oh, and why is that? Because he's human? You couldn't be more wrong. Jack's not human. He's a fucking monster. He was there, with the injured. My grandfather was there. He worked as a janitor. He didn't want to be there. He hated the Nazis. But Jack didn't care. You killed my grandfather."

  Jack said nothing.

  "I'll bet you just want to change and tear into me with your fangs and claws. But I've seen your kind. I know you can't change fast. Your girlfriend here would be dead before you even sprouted fur. I'm going to watch you squirm. I want you to suffer, like all those people suffered in that hospital. And the easiest way to make you suffer..." He gestured to Erica. "Is making her suffer."

  Jack only saw one way out. He couldn't rush Kurt. Kurt posed him no threat at all, but Erica lay right at his feet. She could get hurt, or worse. The safest thing to do was make Kurt point the gun back at him, play with his emotions, give him a more enticing target.

  The easiest way to do that was with the truth.

  "Yeah. I was there." Erica looked up at him, stunned. "But I think some of your facts got mixed up along the way. You see, Lehrer Hospital, wasn't really a hospital."

  Kurt blinked. "What are you talking about?"

  "It was a secret testing facility for Nazi scientists. They used the whole hospital thing as a cover. Hitler was into some weird shit. You know what he was trying to do there? Cross-breed vampires and werewolves."

  "You're lying."

  "Nope. All true." He locked eyes with Erica, and knew things would never be the same between them. But he had to save her life. "I saw them there. Kept the werewolves in silver cages, kept the vampires in line with these cool-looking fire gizmos. Then they got their hands on me and thought they had a new toy to play with."

  Kurt's hand shook. Erica kept her eyes on Jack, still afraid. Only now, her fear was directed at Jack.

  "I lost track of how much time I was there. They kept me strapped to a table in a dark room. They poked at me with their little mortal tools, their scalpels and needles." He left the part out about how they had no effect. "But eventually, they made a mistake. And they all paid for it."

  Kurt aimed the gun at Jack. He took a step forward, past Erica. If she wasn't in shock, she could have run, easily making it back to her car.

  "My grandfather was a janitor. A janitor! He wasn't a fucking Nazi scientist!"

  Jack shrugged. Just a little more of a push.

  "Eh, maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. I don't know. You're right about one thing, though. I killed them all. So if your grandfather was there, I killed him."

  Kurt shouted in rage as he squeezed the trigger. The first shot caught Jack in the cheek, the second the throat. He fell to the ground and collapsed face down. He tried to keep conscious of his legs, the position he fell in. He'd certainly seen enough dead bodies in his lifetime, but always had a hard time mimicking them.

  Kurt wasn't done. He fired three more times, striking Jack in the back and leg. The bullets hit his flesh, and then did what they always did, fall harmlessly to the ground. Jack worried for a moment Kurt might see them, but he was still a distance away, and the low light helped mask them.

  "I told you he was a fucking werewolf!" Kurt shouted. Jack watched through a barely open eye as Kurt hauled Erica to her feet once again by the hair. "I told you! See? Look at that. Only two creatures in this world don't age, and that's vampires and werewolves. And vampires can't go out in the sun."

  Jack held in a smirk. He was sure Victoria would have a problem with that statement.

  Kurt thrust Erica forward. Jack held in a snarl. He couldn't wait to kill him.

  "See that? You've been screwing a monster. How does that make you feel?"

  Erica barely held it together. Her voice quaked. "Go-go to Hell."

  "You'll help me hide the body. Then I'll figure out what to do with you."

  "I'm not helping you do a goddamn thing."

  "Oh, yes you are. Or I'll kill you right now." Erica jumped when he pointed the gun at her. "Get his feet."

  Jack laughed to himself as Kurt hovered over his torso. Kurt kept the gun out as he slipped both hands under Jack's arms. Erica, reluctantly, still crying, stayed near Jack's feet. It was almost too easy.

  Jack sprung to life, wrapping both hands around Kurt's wrist. Erica shouted and jumped back when a shot rang out, striking the pavement. Kurt fell on top of Jack, and tried to ram his head into the ground. Jack didn't flinch, or release his hold on Kurt's wrist. It was Jack's turn to ram something into the ground, as he slammed Kurt's hand, over and over. Erica stood to the side, her hands at her temples. Finally, Kurt's grip on the gun loosened, and Jack kicked it away.

  Erica was no longer in danger.

  Jack snarled and smiled at the same time. He could do whatever he wanted.

  He stood up, dragging Kurt to his feet in the process. Kurt managed to sneak in a shot to Jack's ribs, but the blow did nothing. Jack's rage took over as he beat Kurt. And beat him. Kurt eventually fell to his knees. Jack grabbed his hair, like he'd done Erica, and slammed his head to the pavement. He rubbed his face back and forth.

  A shadow moving to the right caught his attention. He turned to see Erica squatting. She held one of the silver bullets Kurt had fired, its tip a mushroom.

  She'd picked up the gun.

  "Erica," Jack said.

  She jumped at the sound of her name. Her hands trembled as she dropped the bullet and held the gun with both hands. Her gaze traveled along Jack, stopping at the small trails of blood staining his shirt.

  "Let me have that gun."

  Jack reached out, and was stunned when Erica backed up a step. Her breathing hitched as she trained the gun on him. Kurt moaned on the ground, and Erica jumped, moving the gun to him. She alternated back and forth, unsure of where to aim.

  She gasped when she noticed the bloody mess Jack turned Kurt into. The look she gave Jack was the most pain he'd ever experienced.

  "Give me that gun," Jack repeated, trying to smile. "It won't work on me anyway."

  She handed it over, tentatively. Jack immediately turned and shot Kurt in the leg. He shouted in agony as Erica let out a shriek.

  "There," Jack said. "Now I know you're not running anywhere."

  "Jesus Christ, Jack!" Erica shouted. "What the fuck is going on?"

  "Go home. I'll be over soon, and we'll talk about this."

  "Go home? Are you kidding? We have to call the police."

  "The police…yeah," Kurt said, grasping his leg. "That's a brilliant idea."

  Jack peered into Erica's lovely face. Confusion, anger, fear. They were all there.

  "Are you…going to kill him?" Erica asked.

  Jack hesitated. "Just go home."

  It took a while, but Erica walked to her car, stopping along the way to get her bearings. It looked like she wanted to talk, several times, but changed her mind each time. Jack felt a deep sadness as he watched her drive away. He was not looking forward to the aftermath of the evening.

  He glanced down at Kurt. The aftermath was still a ways off.

  "All this time," Kurt said. "I thought you were a werewolf. I've even killed a few, and a vampire, once, to get ready for this. And
you're not a damn werewolf, are you?"

  "Nope. I'm something far worse. But, you are right, I am a monster."

  Jack sat on the ground next to him, like they were old buddies. Kurt didn't try to get away.

  "You're one of those crossovers you were talking about?"

  "Nah. I'm not sure if old Adolf ever pulled that off. He definitely didn't at Lehrer. Not after I got done with the place."

  "You killed my grandfather."

  "If he was there, yup. I wasn't lying about any of that. Oh, I might have missed the straggler here and there. When I got out of that lab, I killed anyone I saw. It didn't matter what uniform they had on, if they had tits, old or young. I didn't care. But I didn't do it with claws and fangs. I killed them with my own hands."

  "You son of a—"

  Kurt tried to stand, but Jack stopped him by grabbing his bad leg. He drove his thumb into the wound. Kurt winced and turned into jelly, collapsing back to the ground.

  Jack continued. "It wasn't a hospital. Someone sold you a load of shit on that one." His thoughts drifted to Erica. "You've caused me a lot of trouble."

  Kurt wiped blood from his face. "Yeah, well, tough luck. We all make mistakes."

  "Indeed. And yours will be expensive. Not only am I going to kill you, but I have to kill your entire family."

  "W-What?"

  "Believe me, I'm not looking forward to it. Surveillance, time away from my daughter." He sighed, thinking of Tiffany's schedule. His schedule revolved around her schedule. "I'll try to push it past Halloween."

  "Look, you don't have to do that. You don't have to involve my family."

  "Ah, but you involved Erica?" Jack shook his head. "You silly, stupid mortals. You can simply never look at the big picture. How do you think we got here, in this parking lot?" He gestured around them. "Let me know how close I am. Some relative took you to an attic, a locker, or a storage space somewhere. They showed you pictures of some old, dead relatives, notably a tragic grandfather back in World War II. They fed you a woe-is-me story that got twisted up over the years about how he was wrongfully killed in a hospital. There was probably a picture of me in there, strapped to a table, and that was your lead. And now, here we are."

  Kurt lowered his head. "It was an uncle who told me, before he died. And yeah, it was in an attic."

  "Oh, well, what do you know?" The humor left Jack's face. "Did you not think about what would happen if you failed today?"

  "Of course I did! I'm fully ready and willing to die, right now. But please, not my family."

  "What's to stop this same shit from happening again, twenty years from now? What's to stop some young snot-blower related to you from going through that same attic? Only next time, it's not Erica, but my twenty-nine-year-old daughter? Or hell, sixty years down the road, and it's my granddaughter. Do you see the situation you've put me in? Your entire family has to die."

  "No. Please, look—"

  Kurt grabbed his shoulder. Jack violently pulled away.

  "Do not touch me."

  "I'm sorry. Please, just listen. My father's in hospice care right now. Cancer—"

  "And you chose to die here tonight instead. Mortals."

  Kurt ignored him. "I'm not married or anything, no kids. All I got left now is a brother, and his son and daughter. I love my niece and nephew like they're my own. My brother sells fucking insurance. He'll never try anything like this. And the kids are great. They won't even step on an ant hill. They always walk around it."

  "Now that's just plain silly."

  "Please!" Kurt begged. "Don't hurt my family."

  Jack hesitated, letting second thoughts cloud his judgment. The fact that he was even entertaining second thoughts made him uncomfortable, and brought a sense of dread. Killing an entire family. Mortals, and even the closest to him, Victoria, would call that cruel. Jack would call it logical. Killing a handful of people to protect those he cared for, plus his own future generations. He didn't see how that was wrong at all. It was even irresponsible not to do it.

  But that's not what Tiffany would do.

  "Shit," he muttered.

  "Jack—"

  "Shut your mouth." He looked away, angrily. Things were much simpler before Tiffany and Erica were a part of his life.

  But they were less fun.

  "This is what I'll do for you," Jack said. "You're dead. I'm sure you understand that. But your family, they're safe."

  "Oh, thank God—"

  "Don't thank me yet. I'm not done. I'll tear into their lives. They'll be investigated, monitored. If they show the slightest signs, if your little nephew or niece even gives a puppy a dirty look, you'll be meeting them in the afterlife. If they're good mortals, they'll be fine. It's that simple."

  Kurt let out a deep breath. He was crying.

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  Jack struck like a snake. He pounced on Kurt. Circling behind him, he wrapped an arm under his chin and squeezed. Jack stood up and dragged Kurt to his feet. He leaned back, stretching Kurt out and lifting him a few inches from the ground. Kurt fought and kicked, like all mortals did. The gun would have been easier; a simple shot to the head would do. But Jack had enough of a mess to clean up. He didn't want to worry about bits of skull and brain matter scattered in the parking lot.

  Kurt grew weaker and weaker. His body went limp in Jack's grasp, his tongue hanging out. Jack dropped him like a bag of garbage.

  He surveyed the scene as he gathered himself. He took note of the silver bullets laying about, along with a bit of blood from Kurt's leg wound. The blood was minor, nothing more than would happen in a back alley fight. The bullets needed to be collected, however, and the body disposed of. Still so much work left to be done.

  Then the real fun would begin.

  *****

  The salty air slowly returned as Jack drove back through town. The windows were down, letting in an enjoyable late-night breeze. It was probably a tad too chilly for mortals, but he didn't feel hot and cold the same way. His entire body could be on fire, and it would feel like a warm shower.

  He'd stopped at an empty restaurant on the way home and slipped into the bathroom. He didn't look great, but he'd looked worse in the past. His hair was messed up, with lines of blood trailing down his face from the failed werewolf assassination. He scrubbed his hands and face. There was nothing he could do about his clothes. The back of his pants had a few holes, along with his shirt. At least the holes were small.

  He drove past Erica's neighborhood, not even bothering to pass her house. He knew she wasn't home.

  Her car was parked in front of his house. A neighbor walking a dog waved as Jack pulled up behind Erica's car. He didn't bother waving back.

  Erica sat on the front steps, resting her elbows on her knees. The front door was closed behind her. She still wore the same jeans and blouse, not even stopping at her home to change. Her eyes had a glassy, far-away look to them. Jack could read mortals' emotions very easily, but had no clue what Erica was thinking or feeling.

  He walked up the sidewalk. There was no teary reunion, no running into his arms. She didn't budge, barely looking at him as he approached. Andee peered through the front window, only for a second, before disappearing back into the living room.

  Jack sat next to her, keeping his distance. He rested his elbows on his knees, almost comically mimicking Erica. The silence stretched for several minutes. Erica sniffled a few times; she'd obviously been crying. He wanted to console her, but knew nothing he said would bring her comfort. He remembered the exact feeling, although centuries apart. Erica's perception of the world had just been destroyed.

  "I've got so many questions," she finally said. "But shit, I can't even really get them in my head."

  He nodded, deciding to try to help as directly, and gently, as he could.

  "I was born in 1789. I was born mortal, like you. But I was cursed by a witch, and I've been alive ever since. It might sound nice, but believe me, it's not all it's cracke
d up to be."

  "Jesus," she said, lowering her head. Jack said nothing while she processed. "And your sister, Victoria?"

  "She's not my sister by blood. We're just close. She's actually older than me. She's a vampire."

  Erica let out a sound of disgust and rose to her feet. She paced, small steps, as she shook her head in frustration. Jack watched her carefully.

  "Witches, werewolves, vampires, you've got to be kidding me," she muttered. "This is bullshit."

  Jack held in a laugh. She'd probably pass out if she knew what else was out there.

  He held out his arms. "You saw it for yourself. Bullets, knives, fire, bad cooking, nothing can affect me. I'm the victim of a witch's curse."

  She smiled, but without humor. "Yeah, right. You, a victim." She stopped pacing and faced him. "All that you said, about World War II…."

  "All true. They caught me. They tried to run their little experiments. They failed. They died."

  "Did you kill Kurt?"

  "Yeah."

  "Oh my God," she repeated, pacing again for a moment. "What did you do with the body?"

  He hesitated. "I think that's a question you really don't want to get into."

  "Yeah, you're right. I don't." She grabbed her hair. "Those people in Germany, and Kurt. You're a killer. I can't fucking believe this. You're a murderer."

  "When I have to be."

  "Oh, yeah? And when was the last time you had to be, before tonight?"

  Jack didn't want to answer. The conversation wasn't going where he thought it would. It was getting more difficult to see kiss-and-make-up sex in the future.

  "Right before the PTA meeting. That's why I was late. But I swear, it's been like—" About a month didn't sound like a good answer. "A while before today."

  Her cheeks turned red. "You killed someone before the PTA meeting?"

  "Hey, you want to keep your voice down?" he said, scanning the neighborhood. There wasn't a mortal in sight.

  "I can't believe this. You killed someone, and then calmly walked into a school? You walked into a parent meeting, to discuss the future of our kids, after you'd just murdered someone?"

  "Well, I'd already lined up the babysitter."

  Erica's face looked about to explode. "Did you…just make a joke? Is this funny to you?"