Twice Cursed

by Marianne Morea

  The paper had everything listed—birth date, weight, height, ethnicity, the record of the mother’s death and the medical explanation why: Blood lose due to placenta abruptio—everything, except a father’s name and no mention of it being a multiple birth. There was no next of kin listed either, so perhaps it wasn’t something included on the birth record if the twin didn’t survive.

  Beverly looked numb, and Lily reached out to take her hand. “I don’t know Bev, but based on what I saw, neither Teresa nor the other baby survived. Terry was lucky to be born first, it’s the reason she lived.”

  Tears dripped down Beverly’s cheeks. “I’m just grateful we were there for her. I don’t want to think about what life would have been like if we weren’t.”

  Lily pulled her into a hug, but didn’t say another word. A sense of peace settled over her, knowing Terry’s biological mother had loved her and wanted her, and what happened was just a sad turn of fate. Somehow, she knew Terry knew it too.

  “Knock, knock…” Carl said, standing in the doorway. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving. Can we take a detour off memory lane for a bit and have a late lunch?”

  Beverly wiped her face, and sucked in a deep breath, holding it for a moment. “Perfect timing,” she said. “I think we could all use a break.”

  Lily put her hands on her thighs and sat back. “Sounds like a great idea. I have dinner plans later tonight, so a late lunch would be perfect.”

  “You have dinner plans?” Beverly asked, wiping her nose with a tissue she fished out from her shirt cuff. “You never eat out unless it’s those dirty water dogs from the cart vendor on the corner. Does this mean you’ve met someone?”

  Lily laughed. “Nice. You make me sound like a social misfit. I do have a life, you know—but, yes, I did meet someone—although I’m not having dinner with him tonight. My plans are with a friend.”

  “A friend, huh?” Carl chimed in, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe we just might get a chance at grandkids yet, Bev.”

  Rolling her eyes, Lily made a face. “Seriously, guys?”

  Carl crossed his arms in front of his chest and glanced at Beverly, neither moved, their expressions letting Lily know they weren’t budging until she gave them details.

  “All right, since you’ll only bug me from now until forever, his name is Sean. He’s from Maine. But if you must know, things are kind of up in the air for us right now. I don’t want to get into it, but my life is pretty complicated at the moment. Adding a long distance relationship on top of everything else—well, let’s just say we’re taking it day by day,” she said with a shrug.

  Carl flashed a warm smile then winked, before sticking his hand out to help Beverly up off the floor. “That’s the best any of us can do, sweetheart. Take things day by day.”

  Lily rocked back onto the balls of her feet and pushed herself to standing. Her head came up, and a warm glow spread through her chest at seeing Beverly tucked under Carl’s arm the same way she always remembered. “I know. And I didn’t mean to sound dismissive, or anything. It’s just…well, it’s complicated.”

  Beverly slid her free hand around Lily’s waist, and gave her a squeeze. “You’ll figure it out, honey. I have faith in you. And when you’re ready to introduce your young man to your family, we’ll be here.”

  They turned to walk out, and Beverly let go, her hand trailing in Lily’s as they stepped through the door.

  Words sprang to mind from nowhere, probably from some long forgotten English class. Beauty is truth, truth beauty—that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. Nevertheless, in that moment they rang true as Lily watched her parents, together.

  “I love you guys,” she murmured from behind.

  Carl grunted. “Yeah, yeah, we love you too. Can we eat now, please?”

  Lily threw her head back and laughed. Things had changed, but then again they hadn’t. Terry would always be with them, and Jack was right. It would be enough, as long as she allowed it to be.

  Chapter Seven

  ***

  “I’m back!” Lily called from the hallway, dropping her keys on the credenza against the wall next to the closet.

  “I’m in the kitchen,” Jack answered, above the clatter of dishes and the sound of the refrigerator door opening. “How’d it go?”

  She hung up her coat and stopped in the kitchen doorway, Jack’s butt greeting her as it peeked out from behind the open refrigerator door. “Are you cleaning the shelves or just taking inventory?” she said, leaning on the doorjamb and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  Poking his head up, he flashed a quick smile. “None of the above,” he said, closing the door with his foot, his hands full of sandwich fixings. “By the way you’re looking at me, I guess everything went okay today.”

  “Yeah, everything went fine,” she answered, shaking her head as she watched his elaborate set up at the kitchen counter. Eight slices of bread, stacks of pickles, lettuce and tomato were all paired neatly across the Formica. “Jack, what are you doing?”

  “I’m hungry,” he answered with his mouth full.

  “I can see that,” she said, as he peeled off layers of sliced turkey and stuffed his mouth, while at the same time, piling thick layers onto four slices of bread. “Is this your way of telling me, you don’t want to go out for dinner tonight?”

  “Depends on where you’re taking me.”

  Lily smirked. His back was turned, but she knew his face held the same wry smile, despite the soft rustle of plastic wrap as he wrapped and unwrapped.

  “We’re going to Peter Lugar’s. It’s one of the best steakhouses in the city. Well, actually, it’s in Brooklyn, but it’s the best.”

  “Terrific. I can’t wait,” he mumbled, turning around and shoving half a sandwich into his mouth.

  Lily grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “Tell me the truth, are you really that hungry, or are you just bored? Because you’ve been doing nothing but eat, lately.”

  “You make me sound like a chick with PMS,” he said, taking a sip from his own water bottle. He took another bite of sandwich, shoving a stray piece of pickle into his mouth, and chewing slowly.

  “This city of yours may not be much in terms of fresh air, but it certainly has its diversions.” Tilting his bottle of water her way, he winked. “So, definitely not bored.”

  Waving her hand at him, she shook her head. “Let’s not go there, okay? I don’t need to know what diversions you’ve found to keep yourself busy.” Cracking her bottle of water open, she considered him. “Could it be because tonight’s the first night of the full moon? I mean, you’ve been cooped up here with only me for company, and let’s face it, I’m not much fun when it comes to Were-related activities.”

  He chuckled. “You could be...”

  “Jack…”

  “I’m just saying. Sean would supply the right bite in a heartbeat if you said the word.”

  “Yeah, well. Let’s not go there, either,” she said dryly, placing her water bottle on the table.

  She glanced back up as Jack stacked the last two sandwiches together and took a couple of bites. Just the mental image of lengthy incisors left her shivering, and she unconsciously slid her hand around the back of her shoulder where Sean had marked her.

  The spot tingled under her fingers, and a rush of warmth spread through her lower belly. Lily pictured him in her mind. His blue eyes as they burned with desire, his long, lean body and wide shoulders, and the way the smooth, hard muscles of his chest and belly felt under her fingers. In that moment, her body craved his and the miles between them suddenly seemed like vast oceans.

  What was it he’d said about the full moon and uncontrollable urges? The sky was dark, but the moon was absent from its blackness. Moonrise was still hours off, yet here she was panting on the inside like a bitch in heat. How was she going to get through this so far away from Sean?

  Jack’s eyes were on hers as he finished eating, watching as if he could smell he
r inner arousal. He cleared his voice and wiped his hands on a napkin.

  “I don’t know if the moon has anything to do with my excess appetite,” he said, deftly shifting the conversation to neutral, and away from the dangerous ground they both sensed. “Could be, but I don’t really have a frame of reference. I’ve never been away from the pack during a full moon.”

  Grateful for Jack’s tact, Lily exhaled, stilling her mind and pulling herself together.

  “Back home, the Hunter’s usually go for a run on the first night,” he continued. “…and Sean likes to include a ritual hunt at some point during the cycle. I missed last month’s because Sean had me and a couple of other newbies helping out at the research clinic. With the viral outbreak and the panic afterward, the nurses needed us to help keep things moving smoothly, although Doc Volkmann seemed to want us there about as much as we did.”

  Residual tension throbbed between her shoulders and Lily rubbed at the nape of her neck, careful not to graze the edge of Sean’s bite mark, again. “So you’ve been stuck doing grunt work rather than joining in the fun, huh?”

  “I wouldn’t say grunt work, but yes, Sean put our skills on ice at times. A shifter needs to exercise his inner animal, or else…” His eyes wandered the length of her, from the top of her honey-blonde head, over the swell of her breasts, to her feet and back again. “…he suffers.”

  “Ah, Jack?” she said, taking a step backward. Either she was right, and he had sensed her passing spike in heat, or she wasn’t the only one affected by the approaching moonrise.

  He exhaled, rubbing his face with both hands. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Or at least I will be. Give me a big, juicy steak, the rarer the better, and I’ll be right as rain. That and a quick jog before we go,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

  Lily moved out of his way as he went past. “All right, but be back in an hour. Our reservations are for eight-thirty, and they won’t hold them if we’re late.”

  With a quick wave over his head, he was out the door. Lily turned back to the counter to wrap up what was left of Jack’s sandwich mess. If this was the first night of the full moon, what was in store for her over the next two days?

  ***

  As expected, the restaurant was crowded. Weeknight or not, it didn’t matter, Peter Lugar’s was a landmark, almost as famous for their gleaming wood interiors and true gentleman’s bar, as they were for their porterhouse steaks.

  They walked in from the street, and a wall of warmth, thick with delicious scents, met them by the coat check. Busy wait staff carried trays back and forth from the kitchen to the dining rooms, the sizzle of steak following in their wake.

  Jack handed Lily’s long, leather duster to the coat check, and then met her next to the hostess stand. Inhaling through his nose, he raised his chin, a silly smile on his face. “You get thumbs up on this one,” he said. “My mouth is watering already.”

  “Good, ‘cause I had to call in a favor to get us this reservation.”

  The maître d' coughed, and then raised his arm gesturing toward the stairs. “Your table isn’t quite ready yet. Please, feel free to wait in the private bar upstairs, and we’ll call you when all is prepared.”

  Lily winked at the man, and then followed Jack up to the bar to wait. Sometimes being psychic had its advantages.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked, as Lily slid onto the smooth, high-backed leather stool.

  “Merlot, please,” she answered, placing her bag on the counter.

  Jack grinned, swiveling his seat around to face hers. “Hair of the dog, huh?”

  Hmmph. “Not even close. And the whole canine thing is your gig, not mine. Remember?”

  “Ha. You just keep telling yourself that,” he said, swiveling back around to face the bar, signaling the bartender with a quick lift of his chin. “I’ll have a Sam Adams. Winter Lager if you have it.”

  The bartender nodded, giving Lily a quick wink before he went to get their drinks.

  “What’s with all the winking? First the guy at the door, and now the bartender, do you know these people, or is this just part of your natural charm?”

  The bartender put two napkins down on the counter and then placed Jack’s beer on one, and a red wine glass for Lily on the other.” You want a frosted glass with that?” he asked while pouring Lily’s wine.

  “No, I’m good with the bottle.”

  The man nodded once, putting the cork back in the bottle of merlot. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said to Jack, gesturing toward Lily with his head. “Your friend here is a very special lady. She really saved our ass last year, if you’ll excuse my language.”

  Jack looked from one to the other, his eyebrows high.

  The bartender put his hand up, his face as serious as a heart attack. “You have no idea. I never believed in that sort of thing, you know, ghosts and whatnot. At least not until I got the royal shit scared out of me one night after closing. From that point on, to say things got creepy around here is an understatement. Whatever it was, spirit, entity…whatever…it raised unholy hell almost every night after closing, so much so, the owners didn’t know what to do. We all thought they should call in an exorcist, but they didn’t want to risk bad press.”

  Jack raised his beer bottle in salute. “So they called you, instead. Nice work,” he said, a ghost of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

  The bartender shook his head. “Hand to God, my friend, I don’t know what she did or how she did it, but it worked,” he said, giving Lily an appreciative smile. “And don’t let her fool you. She may be tiny, but then so is an M-80.”

  Lily patted the bartender’s hand. “I was glad to help.”

  The bartender nodded, sliding his hand out from beneath hers. “You’re okay in my book,” he said, before turning to help customers at the other end of the bar.

  “Does Sean know about how you ‘clean house’?” Jack asked, taking a sip of his beer.

  “Yes, he does, but we don’t really talk about it much. The past couple of months have been…strained.”

  Jack’s gaze softened. “That’s an understatement, but I wouldn’t worry. Things have a way of working themselves out, even if it’s not how you planned. You just have to leave yourself open to change.”

  “Change, huh.”

  “Yup.”

  Lily considered him. Leave yourself open to change. Yeah, okay, Jack. You’re about as subtle as my .45.

  The whole question about her transformation to full Were was off limits, and he knew it. In the last two months, she’d had enough change to fill a lifetime, thank you very much. It was hard enough wrapping her own head around the idea, let alone trying to explain her hesitance to Sean and Rissa. Why all of a sudden did Jack feel the need to add his two cents worth? Well, she wasn’t taking the bait. Until further notice, off limits meant off limits.

  Swiveling her seat around to face the room, she glanced out the tall windows at the darkened street and the light rain shimmering in the glow of the streetlights. She took in the antique sconces set into the original brick walls, the polished bar and the wide planked floor. The place never changed, seemingly as at home in the modern world as it was back in 1887 when the restaurant first opened.

  In her peripheral vision, she watched Jack sip his beer, tilting the brown bottle up and then absently running his thumb over the condensation-wet label. A shadow crossed his eyes, and for a moment, he wore the same expression she’d seen on Sean’s face when he was brooding. Perhaps there was more to Jack’s idea of accepting change than she thought. “It’s not always about you, Lily,” Terry’s voice interjected at the back of her head.

  “Ms. Saburi? Your table is ready,” a waiter interrupted.

  Jack threw twenty dollars on the bar and waited for Lily to grab her purse. They followed the waiter downstairs to their table at the back of Driggs dining room.

  Conversation filled the cozy setting, a low buzz hovering just above the sound of clinking si
lverware and tinkling glasses. The dining room’s rich, warm décor created an inviting ambiance, but despite its welcoming appeal, an edgy tightness had settled between Lily’s shoulders. They ordered their food, and though Jack managed to shake whatever it was that temporarily preoccupied him, she, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that crawled its way up her spine. Her ‘spidey senses’, as Carl liked to call them, were tingling.

  The house sent a bottle of merlot to the table, and Lily did her best to smile as the sommelier opened the wine, but even its smooth bouquet and fruity peppery bite couldn’t ease the tense feeling. Something was up, only she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  “You okay?” Jack asked, watching her face.

  “Yeah, I’m good. I just have this knot between my shoulder blades that won’t loosen up,” she said, rolling her shoulders for effect. “The weather always seems worse on this side of the river, especially in winter. Maybe it’s the wind.”

  Jack snorted. “Right, ‘cause it’s so much colder and wetter here than on the other side of the bridge.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The waiter brought a basket of bread and put it on the table with a small silver container of garlic butter. Jack took one of the long seeded rolls and broke it half. “It means that comment made you sound like a typical Manhattan snob. ‘I can't move to Brooklyn, even cabs won't go there!” he said in a high falsetto voice.

  Lily’s mouth fell open, and her eyebrows shot almost to her hairline. “Tell me you didn’t just quote Miranda from Sex in the City,” she asked, tilting her head to the side in amused disbelief.

  Biting into his roll, he gestured with the bread in his hand. “Hey, if the high heels fit,” he said, chewing.

  Oh, no he didn’t! Pulling her foot back, she kicked him hard under the table.