Fated Curse

by Skye Malone

  Dammit.

  “Come on,” he murmured. “Quick.”

  They ran for the relative shelter of the restaurant wall. Hurrying along it, he peered around the corner, scanning the road past the building. A car dealership stood about a city block’s distance ahead on the opposite side of the street, numerous vehicles still standing untouched in its lot.

  A breath left him. That’d work.

  Checking around again swiftly, he started out from the shelter of the restaurant. They’d need to break into the dealership itself to find keys, considering hot-wiring basically didn’t exist the way Hollywood showed it. But with any luck, they’d have their pick of—

  Rapid crunching sounds came from his right. He threw a fast look toward the sound just as a young woman with dark hair barreled from the neighborhood they’d just passed, running for her life.

  Her eyes went wide at the sight of them. “Run!”

  A dozen draugar charged out behind her. A man with a face like a skull strode after her, glowing green light twisting around him like a toxic aurora borealis.

  Wes grabbed Lindy, shoving her ahead of him toward the road. “Go!”

  She took off, and he bolted after her, racing toward the car dealership across the broad expanse of snowy road.

  “No!” the dark-haired woman shouted. “Don’t—”

  Draugar poured around the cars at the dealership, shrieking and scrambling toward them across the icy lot. An Allegiant followed them, green auroras swirling around him. On the road, Wes skidded, grabbing for Lindy as he fought to change direction quickly. Catching her arm, he hauled her ahead of him again, pushing her toward the houses beyond the strip mall.

  The Allegiant who’d chased the woman shouted a command in some bastardized form of old Norse. For one moment, nothing seemed to happen, and then shrieks rose from within the neighborhood ahead too, and corpses staggered out from between the houses.

  Wes slid to a halt on the ice and snow. They were surrounded.

  Cursing vehemently, he backed away from the draugar while his wolf stretched beneath his skin, ready to shift and rip through as many of the bastards as he could to protect Lindy. It’d cost him the winter gear he wore, but that was a small price compared to watching the draugar tear her apart.

  Kill them, the wolf raged. Kill them all.

  “When I say run,” Wes snapped over his shoulder to Lindy. “You follow me, you hear me? I’ll clear a path and you go.”

  She didn’t move, her eyes on the draugar. Behind her, the dark-haired young woman stared at them both, confusion and terror in her eyes.

  “Dammit, Lindy, do you hear me?”

  Glass shattered and the dark-haired woman screamed. Draugar stumbled from the stores of the strip mall, their skin tearing on the shards of glass still clinging to the sides of the front windows.

  His heart pounding, Wes scanned the area fast. The road away from the city would be a death trap. There was nothing that direction except burned buildings and ruined cars, leaving the three of them running for their lives until whenever the tireless draugar finally caught up to them. The neighborhood was likewise out, given the horde. That left running toward the city and hoping they could find some way to escape.

  He rolled his shoulders, his wolf snarling inside him, ready to shift.

  “Ulfhednar!” the nearest Allegiant shouted.

  Wes’s eyes snapped back toward the oncoming horde to find the bastard pointing at him. The man’s skull-like face cracked into a garish smile as he walked toward them, anticipation glinting in the black pits of his eyes.

  A derisive look on his face, the other Allegiant strode closer while the draugar parted around him. “Kill the wolf,” he commanded idly. “Leave the women to convert or die.”

  Wes reached for Lindy. “Stay behind me.”

  Lindy stepped past him, avoiding his grasp. Her eyes never left the draugar.

  “Dammit, Lindy,” Wes cried. “Get—”

  A blast of glowing green energy exploded from where she stood, shredding through the air like a sonic boom all around her. He staggered, the air burning as it passed him, and all around, the draugar toppled, their bodies collapsing into dust. Tumbling backward, the Allegiants crashed to the snow.

  But she wasn’t done. Racing forward, she flicked open a switchblade in her hand. With deadly precision, she threw the knife, impaling it in the nearest Allegiant’s eye as the man tried to scramble to his feet. The other turned, attempting to run, and Lindy lunged, ripping the knife from the dead Order member and throwing it at the next with lightning speed.

  The man flopped to the ground, the knife embedded in the base of his skull.

  Wes stared as Lindy stopped, her expression unreadable while she regarded the dead Allegiants and the draugar in piles of dust. Her body didn’t shimmer with toxic auroras like theirs, but when she turned to him, he could see a faint greenish cast on her skin, along with a hint of darkness that drifted over her face like cloud shadows. She watched him for a moment, something sorrowful passing through her eyes.

  And then she collapsed like a rag doll to the ground.

  11

  Lindy

  Nervousness fluttered like a trapped bird in her chest and the hot autumn air made her sweat beneath her itchy black robes, but Lindy was determined to give no sign. This was it. The moment she’d been training for all twelve years of her entire life, and she couldn’t risk any hint of a lack of discipline now. Only three other Initiates stood in line beside her and one—just one—of the four would be chosen for the greatest honor of all.

  Dal Hegnar stepped onto the wooden stage. The Grand General of the Order of Nidhogg, his weathered face was pocked by old scars from battling the corrupt. Rumor had it he’d killed an entire clan of berserkers in the Grand Tetons—the very last of those bear shifters, even—and had single-handedly taken on a whole pack of ulfhednar in Michigan besides. His frame was short, stout, and only the most foolish would mistake that for weakness. He’d been her teacher since she was four years old, and he’d often said she was his prize pupil.

  But favoritism meant nothing today. Only true worthiness mattered.

  With a face of stone, he regarded the Initiates, and the trapped bird in Lindy’s chest turned to a hive of bees. A thousand terrible scenarios raced through her mind—he’d found fault in her; she’d failed the training somehow—before Dal Hegnar ever opened his mouth.

  “Your will has been tried. Your mettle has been tested. And today, you stand before us in claim that you are worthy. Who will vouch for these Initiates?”

  Soft footsteps landed on the gravel behind her. A hand took her shoulder. “I vouch for Melinda.”

  Lindy fought to keep her face still at the sound of her mother’s voice, for all that she wanted to beam with pride. Carolyn was Second to Dal Hegnar, next in line to lead the Order and nearly equal in worth to the general himself. To be claimed by her was a badge of honor all on its own.

  But it was an obligation too. What would happen if he chose another today? All her mother wanted was for Lindy to achieve this, to prove their family worthy despite her father’s reluctance to join their cause. If Lindy failed, how would she ever look her mother in the eye again?

  Trembling, Lindy kept her back ramrod straight and didn’t glance around as others stepped forward to claim the Initiates on either side of her.

  “Today,” Dal Hegnar continued. “We mark not only an initiation but a sacred rite passed down to us throughout the generations. The Scythe of Niorun is ready to leave this life, so another must be chosen. Thus, on this hallowed occasion, one of you will be selected to give your life in contribution to our cause. What say you? If chosen, will you accept? If not chosen, will you concede to the will of the Order?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Her affirmative cry rang out in the autumn morning, and she fancied for a moment that maybe, just maybe, Dal Hegnar’s eyes landed on her with the barest hint of a smile.

  “Then let us begin.” />
  He looked to the side as a wizened old man stepped from behind the curtains. His body was gnarled by age, but it bore the scars of countless battles fought victoriously against the corrupt and his eyes were sharp as he scanned the Initiates.

  Dal Hegnar turned back to them. “The mark shall pass from the former Scythe to the new, to be borne until the Great Awakening and the end of days.”

  The old man sank onto a small wooden stool, the only concession to his age.

  “And now…” Dal Hegnar lifted his hands, his palms spread wide. “Step forward, Melinda.”

  Elation erupted in her. Just as she started to move, her mother’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and Carolyn’s voice whispered in her ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Lindy struggled to contain her smile. It wasn’t fitting on the solemn occasion, she knew. But it rose up inside her like sunlight all the same.

  As if on clouds, she walked toward the platform, scaled the three steps, and came up to Dal Hegnar’s side. With determination, she put her palm in his, waiting as the old man took Dal Hegnar’s other hand as well.

  “This is the promise of your new birth,” Dal Hegnar said to her. “Of the release of fear, of pain. When the day comes, you will not feel these. All doubt, all question will be gone. You will know only your purpose to serve as the Scythe of Niorun, and you will be pure.” His hand tightened on hers slightly. “Do you accept this honor for which you have been chosen?”

  Her smile quivered on her lips. “With all my heart, sir.”

  * * *

  Lindy opened her eyes.

  Dim light thinned the shadows around her, and her back lay on something lumpy but soft. The smell of cleaning solution surrounded her, hanging heavy on air thick with damp and the nose-tickling feeling of mold.

  She blinked, her gaze sliding around. The walls were unpainted concrete. There were pipes on the ceiling, and a ragged mobile of paper mâché planets dangled from one of them, lit by a blue-white light that didn’t fully dispel the darkness.

  Her brow furrowed. She felt… different. Emptier, just a little bit, and strange too. Not quite right, but she didn’t know why. She was scared, she was sure of that, but the emotion seemed thinner than it probably should have been, like an image with the colors beginning to fade out.

  And that scared her even more.

  She was losing herself. There was no other explanation. To save Wes and that woman—hell, to save herself—she hadn’t had an option.

  Burn up her own spirit. Sacrifice her soul and become hollow like the Order, but far, far worse.

  Or let the Order capture her in that parking lot.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, pain passing through her like a fish below black water.

  A rustling sound came from nearby. Her eyes flew open and she lifted her head. At the foot of the pile of cushions that formed her makeshift bed, Wes sat on a folding chair, his elbows propped on his knees.

  Her leather bracelet dangled from his hand.

  “Hope you don’t mind I took your bracelet off,” he said flatly.

  She trembled, not taking her eyes from him.

  “You’re Order?”

  Her head shook immediately. “No.”

  His brow twitched up. “Your wrist begs to differ.”

  Unsteadily, she drew a breath. “I was… once.”

  He didn’t say a word.

  “I was raised by them. My mother, she…” A chill crept through Lindy. “She’s still part of it. I trained with them until I was fourteen, and then my dad… When he saw what it was doing to us, he worked to get us out. Break through the conditioning and the… mindfuck.”

  Wes eyed her. “But you didn’t get the tattoo removed.”

  “Because the tattoo artist could be one of them. You know they’re everywhere. They always have been.” She shivered. “If I did that and they found out, they would’ve killed my dad.”

  Plus, it wouldn’t have helped anything.

  She swallowed hard. “Mom was content to leave us alone as long as she thought we’d come back to her someday. But now…”

  “Apocalypse. All bets are off.”

  Lindy nodded. “I just have to know they’re safe.”

  “And get them back to Mariposa.” A cold note carried through his voice.

  She hesitated. “If I can.”

  His eyes didn’t leave her.

  “Dad and Frankie aren’t—” She cut off, revising. “Dad never got very deep into this. And Frankie was just a toddler. They started him on the training but… It was just games at that age. Not like… not like later.”

  The ice in his expression deepened.

  “Listen,” she said. “I’m not going to stay in Mariposa, okay? You can kick me out or do whatever you want once I’ve got them safe. But, please. They don’t deserve what Mom would do to them.”

  He watched her for a long moment, and she swore the sound of her heart pounding was the only noise in the room.

  A breath left him and he looked away. “Does Hayden know about you?”

  She fidgeted uncomfortably on the cot. “Yeah.”

  He glanced back at her.

  “The day that guy broke into our apartment, he…” She grimaced. “He said he’d recognized me in the flower shop. After he left, I kind of had to explain why.”

  Wes was quiet again. “I’ve heard rumors about their initiation process. What happens before you get one of those.” He jerked his chin toward her wrist.

  She couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Who’d you kill?”

  Her left hand twitched toward her right wrist as if to cover the damned mark, and she stopped herself. It wouldn’t help anything. “I… I didn’t. Not a wolf like you.” The weight of the truth pressed on her chest. “I think.”

  Seconds crept by in silence.

  “You saved my life.”

  Lindy looked up at him.

  “Yasmeen’s too.” His head twitched toward the door. “But… it hurt you.”

  She didn’t know what to say. The words were barely a question, and she knew the answer was obvious.

  If lacking in detail.

  “Can I have my bracelet back, please?” she asked instead.

  He watched her for a moment and then extended the leather. She wrapped it around her wrist swiftly, some small measure of tension leaving her at having the mark out of her sight again. “Where are we?”

  Wes hesitated as if debating whether to press for more, but finally he just sighed. “Subbasement of an elementary school. Yasmeen and I… After what you did, there weren’t any more draugar around, so we got you out of there. The survivors have been hiding in this place.” A nauseated look passed over his face. “The ones who are left, anyway.”

  She nodded, her gaze dropping away. “A-are they… Do they think I’m—”

  “They won’t touch you.”

  Wes’s voice was uncompromising, like there wouldn’t be an alternative no matter what he had to do.

  Her eyes flicked back up to him, something hot stirring in her belly at the possessive promise in his tone. And at the intensity in his gaze, the heat grew, her body warming with a hungry desire for him to reach for her, touch her, kiss her, and do so much more. She was suddenly painfully aware of him sitting there, in the chair at her feet, where only a brief movement could bring him down onto the makeshift bed and on top of her.

  And it was madness. Last night had been too much, and last night had to be it, forever. But, God, her body didn’t want to listen. It wanted him on the pile of cushions right now, her mouth tasting him as his hands slid over her breasts, gripping her sides, his cock thrusting in her until she screamed.

  Wes cleared his throat and looked away. “Come on.” His voice was gruff. “We should get you some food.”

  She fidgeted uncomfortably, embarrassed at her own arousal, and then she hesitated, the hot desire fading like a receding dream. She wasn’t hungry. Not even a little bit. If anything, the thought of food turned her stomach,
though she couldn’t understand why. But at the sensation, a flicker of terror passed through her, the kind that should bring tears to her eyes. Something had happened to her; she was sure of it. Something new and terrible, like a harbinger of unknown horrors to come. The details of the Scythe’s transformation were sketchy, since for any regular Allegiant it would have been over swiftly, and they wouldn’t have cared what it took from them anyway.

  After all, a loyal Order member would have surrendered to the transformation immediately. They’d never cling by their fingernails to every last shred of their humanity, fighting like hell against the alterations.

  Losing ground every day.

  Darkness whispered on the edge of her mind, not fading this time, as if the clouds had finally rolled in to surround her on all sides. And in it, the feeling of shapes drifted, like ghostly specters in the fog. Some this way, more that way, hungry and snarling and ready to devour her whole.

  But her eyes stayed dry and unaffected by the realization. Even as her heart raced, even as the pressure of a sob pushed at her chest, nothing changed, and her terror sank deeper into pure dread.

  The Order had already taken away her ability to cry.

  12

  Wes

  Order.

  Lindy… was Order.

  The thought had been banging around in his head for hours while she slept, her skin somehow more bloodless than he remembered. Within moments of getting her to this dingy subbasement, he’d taken off her bracelet, though what he’d sought to convince himself, he still wasn’t sure. But there it was, the green-black tattoo of a snake wrapping her wrist, its fangs sunk deep into the roots of the World Tree. Sure, the mark was a little odd compared to other tattoos on the Order members he’d seen. The snake’s body extended out farther across her inner wrist, and the World Tree’s branches were twisted into runes he barely recognized. But there was no denying it. She was an Allegiant.