The Curse of M

by Stevie Barry

  The Lady smoothed the hair back from her forehead, her touch at once electric and infinitely comforting. "I will not lie to you, child," she said, her voice tinged with sorrow. "Much horror lies ahead of you, but you will come to this place on Earth, in the end. You and all the others, but your road will be much longer and harsher than theirs. In all that is to come, remember this: I will never abandon you. You will find happiness in the end, though your path to it will be fraught with hardship."

  Remembrance of Geezer's warning made Lorna shiver. "What's going to happen to me?"

  "That I cannot tell you. But you are strong, child, more so even than you know. Remember that. Live, and love, and do not ever let anyone make you believe you are less than you are."

  "I'm not that much to begin with," Lorna said dryly.

  "You are. Far more than you know, but you will learn. Let go of your frozen rage, your need for vengeance. You are a creature of warmth and light. Keep hold of that, and you will save more than just yourself."

  She bent and kissed Lorna's forehead, and then she was gone, leaving Lorna to explore this strange, lovely place until she woke.

  ----

  The wind and cold were even worse the next day, but F wing was warm enough. After another sleepless night Von Ratched had everything set up long before dawn, but he gave Duncan and Lorna enough time to eat and bathe before sending for them. Duncan didn't need to pass out from low blood sugar, and nobody needed Lorna griping about being hungry.

  Both arrived obviously tired, each with a heavy bathrobe tied securely over their uniforms. It looked like something would have to be done about the heating in the wards. Duncan looked wary, as was only smart, but Lorna…what did she look like now?

  Something about her had changed, something invisible and intangible, meaning he couldn't even guess precisely what it was. The coldness had left her eyes, though they were still sharp and watchful, but it was more than that. And yet he didn't know what that 'more' might be.

  He put it from his mind for now, to be turned over later. At least she seemed less tense, which he hoped would make her less combative. "Lie down, Duncan," he said, pointing to the table at the center of the room. At least this one was padded, as were the restraints. "I am strapping you down for your own good, so Lorna, don't waste my time trying to interfere."

  To his surprise, she didn't. She hovered nearby like a mother hen, a tiny figure in a pale blue bathrobe the size of an overcoat on her, hands curled in the too-long sleeves for warmth. She certainly looked more refreshed than Duncan, though Von Ratched wasn't sure he wanted to know what had put the light in her ungodly eyes. Surely she was up to something, and he didn't want to know about that, either. It said something about the woman, that her cooperation should convince him she was up to no good.

  Duncan looked at her, trying not to let on how worried he was. He was losing weight, Von Ratched noted, his cheeks slightly hollow, and he needed a haircut. Perhaps his caloric intake should be upped; for whatever reason, despite his relative lack of exercise, his metabolism was burning through everything he ate with astonishing speed.

  Both of them looked rather uneasily at the syringe Von Ratched brought over. "It is only a mild sedative," he said, tying a rubber tube around Duncan's upper arm. "It ought to help with the pain." That wasn't why he was giving it -- he didn't want Duncan fighting too hard -- but it would also act as a mild analgesic.

  Lorna gave him a suspicious glance before turning back to Duncan. A very light touch of his mind told Von Ratched they were chattering away at one another telepathically.

  It's all right, allanah. I'm not going anywhere. I'll not let him go too far with this.

  Not mother hen, he decided -- mama bear. "I'm sedating you too, Lorna."

  Her eyes snapped to him. "That wasn't part'v our deal," she said. Interestingly, though, she didn't look ready to attack him. She just stared, her gaze so flat and cold it resembled nothing so much as a shark.

  "Need I remind you that I set the parameters of this deal? It will not render you unconscious, but I am hoping it will keep your telekinesis from going haywire. You can take the sedative, or I can put you back in your room."

  She glanced at Duncan again, and with a grimace rolled up her sleeve. Her arm was wiry with muscle, and he wondered if she'd been exercising when he wasn't looking.

  Her posture relaxed a little, and he attached an array of vital monitors to Duncan while she watched him like a hawk. He wondered how a lesser mortal could handle her stare for any length of time. There was an intensity to it he'd never seen in anyone else. "I would step back, if I were you."

  "Sod off. I will if I need to."

  "Suit yourself." He picked up a small plastic device that looked more like a cell phone than anything, and pressed a button. It emitted a sound too high-pitched for him and Lorna to hear, but Duncan most certainly did. He flinched, the beep of his cardio monitor increasing. Hmm. It seemed he really did have animalistic senses, not just a feral instinct. Another push of the button drove the sound to a higher pitch, and this time he let out a distinctly canine whine. Already he was sweating, his blood pressure soaring along with his pulse -- and then both dropped, and he fell silent. He was still uncomfortable, still cringing, but no longer in much pain.

  Von Ratched glanced sharply at Lorna, but she hadn't moved. She just stood staring at Duncan with a ferocity that almost burned, so completely focused he doubted she was aware of anything else. "Lorna, what are you doing?"

  "I'm not interfering with your test, am I?"

  "Not yet, but you have not answered my question."

  "I’m trying to block his pain, all right? You can give it, so I'm thinking I can take it away."

  He looked fully at her, intrigued. "Quite the little scientist, aren't you? How did you come up with that one?"

  "Just because I'm not a genius doesn't mean I'm an idiot," she retorted. "Will you get on with it?"

  He would, but not as intended. This was much more interesting, and he could always complete this test properly later. Now he wanted to see just how far she could go with this. He increased the volume, and added a searing light from the overhead lamp. This would be purely controlled by outside stimuli rather than telepathy; he didn't want to interfere with Lorna's work.

  Duncan's pulse and blood pressure momentarily spiked again, but once more evened out quite rapidly. Lorna wasn't even sweating yet, either. Another increase in volume, and another, but this time his levels remained even. She was surprisingly good at this for a beginner -- or so Von Ratched thought, until he realized she was cheating. Now she was sweating, and had gone rather pale: she wasn't blocking Duncan's pain anymore, she was taking it on herself. If he didn't know any better, he'd think her an outright masochist.

  Somehow, he didn't want to keep pushing. The sight of her pain was disturbingly unpleasant. Still, he'd started this experiment, and he never cut one off for anything short of cardiac arrest. He'd keep this up until she cried uncle or passed out, whichever came first.

  Dazed though he was, Duncan eventually figured out what she was doing. "Lorna, stop," he rasped, but unsurprisingly, she ignored him. Honestly, she was so focused she probably didn't hear him, so he tried again. "Von Ratched, stop this. I know you know what she's doing."

  "Of course I do. However, she started this, and we must see it through to the end. I will give her a painkiller when we are done, if that will appease you."

  "It won't," he growled -- actually growled. Yes, that inner animal really had latched onto her, in a way the man had not. He was as protective of her as she was of him, but it would almost certainly kill for her. How interesting.

  Up the volume went again, and Lorna went so pale she would surely pass out soon. Von Ratched didn't like watching her, but Ratiri-the-animal couldn't stand it, for he fought so hard he pulled his arm out of one restraint. That he could manage that even while sedated bore contemplation. "Will you stop it," he snarled, his eyes wild. "You've proved your point, you bastard. You know
she won't fold on her own."

  "Which means I will know exactly how much she can handle while still remaining conscious," Von Ratched said, with a hint of asperity.

  They didn't need to argue further. Lorna chose that moment to collapse, and he only just managed to catch her before she could hit her head. He picked up a stethoscope and knelt to listen to her heart and lungs. How very odd -- her pulse wasn't elevated at all. How had she managed that?

  He shook his head, and administered a painkiller that would keep her from wishing she was dead when she woke. "That animal of yours chose a strange person to fixate on," he said, standing and looking at Duncan. "She does not need your protection, and in time I believe she will come to resent it."

  Duncan had flopped back down on the table, but he remained tense. "No, she won't. Are you done here?"

  "For now. I will have lunch sent to your room. I would suggest you refrain from attempting to attack me when I set you loose. Tame that animus or it will take you over."

  "Wouldn't you love that," Duncan muttered. His face was almost grey, his hair damp with sweat.

  "And what, precisely, do you mean by that?" Von Ratched asked, releasing his bound arm. Unsurprisingly, he'd quite mangled the wrist of his other.

  "Be a lot less trouble if I couldn't think for myself, wouldn't I?" His voice was slurring with exhaustion.

  "Perhaps, but you would be far less interesting. And if I were to render you a permanent mental beast, Lorna really would try to kill me. Count yourself lucky you're the only means I have of controlling her."

  Duncan didn't respond, nor did he fight when he was given another sedative. Von Ratched shifted him to a gurney and fetched one for Lorna, who was still very much unconscious.

  He paused, and looked at her. Her dependence on Duncan was definitely working against him, but as of yet, he didn't know what to do about it. If he severed their mental connection it might drive them both insane, but if he left it, it was only going to entrench itself further. He couldn't even get away with killing Duncan.

  With a shake of his head, he delivered the pair to Grieggs, and went back to his apartment for an early lunch. It was time to take another look at what was going on in the rest of the world.

  What he saw was not what he had expected. The undeclared war against the so-called Cursed was collapsing, simply because their numbers were swelling too fast to be kept up with.

  To his amusement, he found a press conference with General Andrews. The man was once again in full possession of himself, every inch the hardened military commander, and Von Ratched wondered what he'd told his superiors about his trip to the Institute. Almost certainly not what had really happened.

  "Why isn't the military dealing with this anymore?" someone asked.

  Andrews looked both uncomfortable and annoyed. "We have too many of them in our own ranks," he said. "And those are just the ones we know of. There are people out there who can effectively control their curses, and we have too few people capable of identifying them."

  "What do you have to say about the rumors that you're executing your Cursed personnel?"

  "That's total slander," Andrews snapped, and his vehemence told Von Ratched he was lying through his teeth.

  For the first time, visiting the outside world sounded like an appealing idea, but the inmates could not be left unattended. The thought of the military falling apart was viciously satisfying, something that ought to be witnessed firsthand, but there was no feasible way to do it. What a pity.

  He changed channels and found footage of a rally on the National Mall, a vast crowd of people holding homemade signs. They were chanting something unintelligible, their faces so earnest in the sunlight that it was rather sickening.

  Well. For once in his life, his predictions seemed incorrect. If society was going to fall apart at the seams, it wasn't going to do so as he'd thought. At least it was likely he'd be left alone in his isolated little corner of Alaska. The military was too busy tearing itself to bits to bother him again.

  No one would interfere now. And that was exactly how he liked it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  For the entirety of the next week, it was Wrigley who disappeared into F wing. And terrible though Lorna felt about it, she was glad to have a break.

  The sun returned, and again they were let outside. It was much colder, though; there would be no garden this year, and she hoped they wouldn't still be here when spring rolled around again.

  Still, she dug at the plots, growing so warm she could shed her heavy coat at times. Her skin tanned ever deeper, and little by little she became almost relaxed. The sun, though it gave no warmth, reminded her of her recent dream, and brought her a peace she wouldn't have thought possible. It wouldn't last, since Von Ratched would send for her and Ratiri again sooner or later, but she'd savor it while she could.

  While she didn't consciously pass it to Ratiri, he received a great deal by osmosis. His face lost its pinched, wary look, and he even smiled a few times, as his shovel thudded into the ground with hers. Lorna had discovered long ago that sometimes mindless physical exercise could be a good thing, and it seemed to be helping him as much as her.

  She was sweating now, though it was cold enough to see her breath even in the direct sunshine. Her bangs were sticking to her face, her muscles were burning with effort, and she was almost happy. The jacket lay forgotten on the ground, and she'd rolled the sleeves of her smock up to her shoulders. Her brown arms grew darker by the hour, all lean, corded muscle, and she finally felt the satisfaction that came with actually doing something. She wasn't the kind of person who could sit idle for very long, and she'd done far too much of that since coming here.

  Katje, not far away, looked rather less enthusiastic, but when they'd taken a break earlier Lorna made her a crown of wildflowers. It sat on her golden head like she was a fairy queen, and Hansen definitely appreciated it. He kept casting her glances that he probably thought were subtle, but couldn’t have been more obvious if he'd tried. It was kind of adorable, honestly, though Ratiri just rolled his eyes.

  "Kid couldn't bluff to save his life," he muttered, wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

  Lorna snorted. "And you could? Tell me, how come Katje didn't snare you as soon as you arrived?"

  He drove his shovel into the tough sod with a grunt. "Not my type," he said. "Yeah, she's gorgeous, but she's just not…."

  "Not Katherine?" Lorna offered.

  "Exactly. You never saw anyone after Liam, did you?"

  She snorted again, turning back to her shoveling. "Never saw anyone before him, either. He was the first lad who didn't consider me…well, another lad. I never spent much time around other girls, so I never really learned to act like one, but he didn't care. Said he didn't want a princess forever checking her makeup. Bit unfair, really, since I might've liked it if I had the chance, but whatever."

  "Katherine could never abide the stuff, though God knows her mother tried. All while we were dating, that damn woman said she'd never get a 'real man' if she didn't make some effort with her appearance."

  Lorna stabbed her shovel down and leaned on the handle, staring at him. "Why? You're a mother's wet dream." She paused. "That didn't come out right."

  He actually laughed. "No, no it didn't. Unfortunately, racism is still alive and well in Britain. Her mother hated me, and about disowned her when we got engaged. A Hindu wedding ceremony is basically a week-long party, and we could hardly get her to stay a day. I think my mother was ready to kill her. They got into a fantastic row, and that was the last we ever saw of her."

  Lorna digested this. "What a flipping cunt," she said at last, and that only made Ratiri laugh harder.

  "An accurate description if ever there was one. Family's hugely important in India -- I think my mother thought she was insane."

  "Nah, I'm sticking with cunt. Granted, my da would've shot you, but that's just because he was a right areshole."

  "I don't think I'd bother asking anything of parents, t
his time around."

  He froze, and she gave him a startled look. This time around? she asked.

  His face flushed, until he was approximately the hue of a brick. Um…well, yes. Look, forget I said anything.

  She shook her head. Uh-uh. D'you mean what I think you mean?

  That depends on whether or not you want me to.

  One corner of her mouth lifted in a half-smile. I'll think about that. Once you’ve figured out whether or not this is just because we're always under each other's feet.

  Yes, maybe there was a blush. Well. This was an interesting turn of events. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't come to fancy him a little, in her own way, but anyone would. He looked like an Indian Clark Gable, for God's sake. But this…well, they certainly had enough time to see where it went.

  She full-on smiled as she went back to work, wondering if this was what it was like to feel like a teenage girl.

  ----

  Ratiri wasn't going to lie: he was panicking a little. The two of them were stuck in such close quarters so often that he hadn't intended to say a damn thing, ever. God knew their lives were complicated enough, but she'd snuck up on him. Two days ago he'd abruptly realized that if they ever escaped, he didn't want to live without her -- and that was his wish, not the animal within him.

  It scared him, too, though there was little logical reason for that. Neither one was going anywhere, and Von Ratched already used them to control one another. Logically, their outward lives wouldn't change. There was just the rather large problem of whether or not Lorna would be too awkward, if he said anything. From her little smile, he thought he didn't need to worry on that score. It wasn't any kind of grand romance -- honestly, did it even count as romance, given how totally unromantic it was? But neither of them was that kind of person. He'd find such a thing uncomfortable, and Lorna would probably laugh at it.