The Cursed Prince: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Fated by Magic) (Volume 1)

by Taylor Fray

  Ah! She screamed as shadowy limbs flickered around her. She managed to fire off a shot, but the shine of a metal pipe swung through the darkness. A cracking sensation on her skull overwhelmed her and she was thrust into unconsciousness.

  5

  When she awoke she was in a stone chamber. Her head throbbed but something else overwhelmed her: the feel of metal handcuffs around her wrists. A rope was looped around the cuffs, and it was anchored to the roof of the chamber. Her arms were stretched up above her head, a truly medieval position.

  Terror surged through her body. She had really done it this time. Why the hell did she follow someone, possibly a monster, into a sewer grate? And for the last time what the hell was going on in this town? Regret, anger, confusion, terror all swirled together. She clenched her eyes and terror won out. She had to get out no matter what.

  She pulled at the handcuffs, twisted, yanked and strained against them. Pain seared on her wrists. She cried out.

  She was smarter than this. Calming down was her best chance at survival. She breathed deep. Studied her surroundings, keeping the panic down just enough for her mind to work straight. It was dark, but there was some stark light coming from an electric lantern that hung on a wall. There was a table in a corner of the stone room, what looked like a bookshelf or some kind of cabinet next to it.

  Her mind raced. Her captor hadn’t tied up her feet. Perhaps she could use this.

  Suddenly Pete emerged from the pitch black of the doorway. He stepped forward, his eyes wide open, a twisted intensity about them. She recoiled, gasping.

  “Listen,” she strained. “Whatever… messed up thing happened to you… whatever messed up thing…”

  She didn’t know where she was even going with that. Even the bravest people can lose their wits when chained up in a dungeon. But if she could get him to come close enough… one good kick to the jaw would knock him out cold.

  “You had to keep digging around didn’t you?” Pete said, scrubbing his face with his hand, “It wasn’t bad enough about your sister, you had to go get yourself killed too.”

  Morgan clenched her jaw, strained to keep her composure. “What? What happened to her… why did you do it?”

  “I didn’t! It wasn’t me.” He shook his head, face twisted as if he were pleading.

  “Zak? The werewolf. He was the one…”

  “No! Don’t you know anything? It wasn’t the wolves. It’s just that… she said no to the wrong people.”

  “To who? What people?”

  Pete’s eyes squinted, his voice hushed as if he were about to tell her the deepest, darkest of secrets. “To the—” Glurk! Spit flew from his mouth and his eyes went wide as he seemed to choke on his own words. His body jerked like he was having a seizure, cheeks flapping, eyes blinking a storm. Then he seemed to relax, his arms dangling at his side. His eyes went downcast, his face a blank trance. Morgan’s brow furrowed in confusion, in panic. Then he slowly raised his face and she saw that his eyes were glowing a cold blue.

  “What—what’s wrong with you?”

  He only stared back with eyes that seemed like blue fluorescent lights. It was such an eerie sight for her. He began stepping toward her, his face stone cold. This was it, that plan that had been swirling in the back of her mind. If she could just get one good kick in. This was it. She was wearing steel-toed boots. All the squats, the kickboxing, the damn stair master, it was going to save her life… or make this psychopath really, really angry.

  He cocked his head, eyes intensifying on her.

  He lumbered forward.

  Cold fear burst in her chest.

  She coiled her right leg, clenched her teeth, clenched her eyes, couldn’t bear to look and—whack! His head snapped back, eyes rolled to unconsciousness. He dropped to the ground like a wet sack of dirt.

  She had done it. She had kicked him with everything she had. But who knew how long he was knocked out for. She had to get out. Now. But how the hell was she going to get out of handcuffs?

  “Are you looking for these?” A voice came from the shadows near the doorway. She recognized the voice. As he stepped into the light of the lantern she could see him clearly now: it was Sheriff Albhanz, and he had a murderous grin on his face as he held a set of keys in his hand. He looked so different out of uniform, his hair slicked back, a black turtle neck that seemed far too urban for the town of Gilbert.

  Her mind fought the idea he was involved.

  “Sheriff—get me out of these.” She pulled against the handcuffs.

  “No, I think you look rather interesting there, like a flower wrapped in barbed wire. It’s… artistic really.”

  “What are you talking about? Open these.”

  “I would, but it seems you’re rather violent,” he said walking over to Pete’s body. “You broke my doll.” He snapped Pete’s head back in place. “There, it’s all better.”

  Her mind reeled with disbelief as Pete blinked, regaining consciousness. He stood up slow, zombie-like.

  “Look, I don’t know what the hell… any of this is,” Morgan said. Her voice was trembling, but she fought through. “I just want to go home. You let me go and I’ll forget the whole thing. No one will believe me anyway. None of this would be believable in a trial, in a jury. I get to go free, you get to carry on with… whatever sick things you do in this town.”

  “You really don’t know, do you?” Albhanz squinted, genuinely perplexed. “About the veil, about the clans, about what I am.” He stepped closer still and looked Morgan dead in the eye. “About what you are.”

  “What? You’re insane,” she rattled.

  “You shouldn’t be afraid,” Albhanz continued. “You and I are going get along very well.” His eyes began glowing a cold blue, just like Pete’s had. As they went on glowing with that eerie light, she felt something she had never felt before, that someone was inside her mind. Memories of her life flashed in her head, the scenes fluttering by as if someone was rifling through a pile of photos. High school dances, college classes, the feel of a gun in her hand, running in a park, plopping herself down on a couch, rifling through paperwork, movies, smiling faces, crying faces, they all fluttered in her mind. Against her will, Albhanz surveyed them. He went on staring at her with his eyes glowing their eerie light.

  “We have a lot to talk about,” he said, and the mind probing subsided. He shook his head. “At least your sister knew what you are. What she was. She fought it. She resisted it, but at least she knew. You have no idea.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” She writhed in frustration. Pulled at the handcuffs with so much strength she actually scared herself. She could swear that the metal in the handcuffs was giving, that it was bending just slightly. One thing was sure, her wrists were bright red and bleeding in places from pulling at the handcuffs so hard.

  “Calm yourself,” Albhanz said, and laid a cold punch on her stomach. It knocked the wind out of her. It had been just a tap but it felt like he had hit her with a brick. “You’re going to be my mate. A fitting one as well. I will teach you all things. You will see. I’ll teach you how to release the beast inside you. How to be something more than human.”

  “Whatever the hell that means, I’ll bite my tongue off and choke on my own blood before that happens.”

  “No, I don’t think you will. See, you’ll do as I say, just like he does.” He nodded to Pete as if he were a child he held in disdain.

  Morgan just shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes over her helplessness. “No, I won’t,” she spit out. She went back at pulling at the handcuffs with all her strength. She was pulling so hard, it felt like she was breaking her own bones and tearing tendons, but it didn’t matter anymore. Anything to be free.

  “Yes, you will. Watch.” His eyes flared with blue light. She tried closing her eyes. They only twitched, struggling to obey her. She tried to look away but her head felt like a ten ton block. That blue light in his eyes, it was the most entrancing thing, made her head feel numb, l
ike she had been drugged with a horse tranquilizer. “Smile for me,” he said. She couldn’t believe it but her facial muscles actually started contorting, slowly rising to a smile. “Throw your head back for me,” he said, stepping closer to her. Again she found herself obeying his will, feeling her hair run against her shoulders as she craned her neck back. He stepped close enough to touch her. “Now, kiss me.” She began reaching up with her lips. Sheer panic started overtaking her. Some part of her mind recognized this as him controlling her. She grit her teeth so hard it felt like they would snap into pieces. Sweat gushed on her face. With every drop of will she had she fought his control. She might die but this bastard was not going to get the satisfaction of controlling her. Breaking his control felt like she woke from a dream, and in a desperation—she swung her skull in a headbutt. She felt the thud of their foreheads bouncing off each other, and as Albhanz was staggering back she pumped her leg and kicked him.

  She connected square in the face. Albhanz reeled back. He held his hand to his nose as it poured blood. His shiny black hair hung over his forehead as he breathed deep, recovering from the blow. He wiped the blood with his forearm.

  “You’re strong,” he said, nodding ever so lightly, “but you don’t have any sense. Your sister didn’t have any either.” He walked back toward her. Mention of her sister enraged Morgan.

  “You bastard!” She kicked wildly, but he stayed just out of range.

  “I could go on day after day, slowly breaking you, but why? I’ve never really been one for this ridiculous plan of breeding more of us. What good is an army that will take decades to form? So now, I’ve done my due diligence to the blessed Black Hand, and I can dispose of you too. If my foolishly anal brother asks to inspect my work, good old Pete here will be my witness.” He smiled at Pete, who only cowered and made strange chittering noises. Albhanz took out a packet of Tic-Tacs from his pocket and threw a couple in his mouth. “Have you ever held a fibula bone, a human one? It’s a bone in your leg. Shaped like a long candy. There’s something about the way it snaps in your mouth.” He cracked a Tic-Tac with his teeth.

  Morgan’s face trembled.

  “But how rude of me. Let me take my mask off, so we can meet properly.” As Albhanz said this, his head started morphing, long fangs protruding from his mouth, his eyes elongating to the side of his face, making room for a wet, pink ribbed snout. Black fur sprouted all over his body, with a patch of red on his chest and stomach. His ears grew until they fanned around his head. The sound of ripping cloth resounded in the chamber as his back bulged with muscles larger than even the most massive bodybuilder could have. Wings sprouted in place of his arms. His shadow loomed over her as he grew to be a good eight feet tall. He was some kind of bat monster, a creature that seemed like a vision from hell.

  Morgan almost went insane with fright.

  “You should not die in fear,” Albhanz hissed as he towered over her. “There is something in you I admire… a courage, however foolish. For that, I’ll grant you a swift death, before I devour you.” The fur on his enormous wing caressed her neck. It felt like a rats tail against her skin. “What does not become a part of the Black Hand, the Black Hand destroys. Don’t feel insulted—this is only my duty.”

  His maw opened wide when suddenly—

  A roar ripped the air as an enraged Zak, fangs gleaming, ran into the room. He still looked human, but fur lined his jaw and forearms. He was a were-creature, a Shifter, just like Albhanz. Then it all happened in an instant: Pete lumbered toward him and began convulsing, dirty brown fur sprouting all over his body. He kept morphing until he was an enormous five-foot long rat. He hissed, his pink tail whipping against the ground. Zak dashed, ripped his throat open with a blurring swing of his claws. As the rat was writhing in its death throes, Zak sank his claws into his skull, and with that bloody grip he hurled him across the room like a rag doll.

  Albhanz turned and hissed, his fur standing on end.

  “The wolf man, still alive,” Albhanz said, his voice like a demon’s. Zak’s eyes only had rage as his response. He roared so loud the entire stone room shook.

  They rushed forward. A wild flapping of wings, a melee of gnashing claws and fangs enveloped the room. Growls, hisses and squeals mixed with the sound of ripping flesh.

  Morgan pulled at the handcuffs and rope. Pulled until her wrists bled from the metal cuffs cutting into them.

  Zak slashed Albhanz. Blood poured, but the beast’s wings flapped and threw Zak across the room. He slammed against the wall so hard it was like he had been launched out of a cannon. Stone shattered as he smacked against it and dust hovered in the air.

  Albhanz pounced on him, pinning him down with his clawed feet, his claws digging into Zak’s gut, blood pouring as he screamed in pain.

  Morgan wanted to help. Through all the confusion she could still realize that Zak was trying to help her, trying to save her. She watched in horror as Zak bled, his back on the ground, a giant winged monster perched on him, flapping like a crazed bird, slashing him with the huge hook-like claws on the joints of his wings. She felt an anger surging, a blind rage she had never felt before.

  Somehow, through the pain, Zak managed to look over at Morgan.

  “Bite your lip,” he struggled to say. What the hell was he talking about? “Bite your lip as hard as you can! Now!” He went on. She fought through her panic, and chomped down on her lip until it bled. “Now roar! As loud as you can!” She shook her head in confusion. “Just roar, damn it!”

  She breathed deep, all of her emotions building so that her heart felt like it would explode, and she roared.

  Then it happened.

  The rusty taste of her own blood filled her mouth. She heard a rumbling growl fill her chest, fill her head. Then, as when someone removes a rotting tooth, she felt an utter release as fur poured out through her pours. She felt the bones in her face disjointing, rearranging themselves into a snout. It was painful. It was like someone had turned her body, every vein, every bone, every tissue, turned it all into clay and was rearranging it with the speed of a blender. This force that was transforming her every cell, this had been with her her whole life. This wild animal. This mystic power. This wolf.

  She had become just that. She was on all fours, felt her body light and powerful. She had a bright tawny coat of fur. Her snarling face filled with the instinct to protect one of her own pack.

  She pounced on Albhanz, her paws digging into his side, her canines puncturing his neck. It was a natural instinct in her. To hunt. To kill. Albhanz’ wings beat with the panic of a wild animal. Morgan was almost frightened at how strong she was, the sheer crushing force in her jaws.

  Albhanz went on struggling. It was quite literally like holding onto a bucking bronco with her bare teeth. The sound of his flapping wings was like sails in a storm. He finally managed to throw her off his back. She hit the ground and rolled instinctively to her paws. In a blur, Zak was on him, claws raking wildly. Blood sprayed the walls red as Zak tore into Albhanz. One after the other, his clawed hands rained down on him, each hand like a runaway truck with knives on its grill.

  Albhanz slowly collapsed under the sheer brutality of Zak’s claws. Zak clutched his bloody neck in his hands. Squeezed hard.

  “Wait,” Albhanz wheezed out. “I have information. I can trade you so much. Where the rest of my brood is. Secrets. Spells. Let me live.”

  Zak stared at him for a moment as his chest heaved.

  “What did you do when her sister asked you for mercy?” Zak asked with bloodlust in his eyes. Albhanz only squealed in fright, then Zak rained down his enraged claws, ripping into Albhanz like a wood chipper. Albhanz’s wings convulsed, clutching onto life. Blow after blow from Zak’s claws tore into him, until finally the wings stopped beating, and fell lifeless, like fallen curtains spread out on the floor.

  Albhanz’s body shriveled as he reverted back to his human form, half actual body, half a red stain on the floor. The fur along Zak’s jaw and forearms subsided
as he breathed heavy over his dead prey. He seemed to let himself wince now at the gaping wounds on his abdomen. He was smeared red all over.

  Morgan backed into a corner, still in her wolf form. Though part of her knew Zak wouldn’t hurt her, she was reeling, in shock. She whimpered as Zak approached her. Her human side could only witness what her wolf was doing. She barely had any control. Being in her wolf form felt like riding a horse for the first time, her mind giving suggestions but the body disregarding most of them. Her vision was different—everything had a yellow tinge to it.

  “It’s alright. It’s over.” Zak stepped closer, holding his wounds to keep the blood back. “We’re going to get out of here.”

  She still recoiled as far back into the corner as she could. Now she started snarling, barked a few times and bared her teeth in warning.

  “Morgan,” he said, the sound of her own name touching her human side, “I know this is all a nightmare for you right now, but please trust me.”

  She was starting to calm down, could feel her human mind swimming just behind her perceptions as a wolf, as when someone dreams and a part of them knows they’re dreaming.

  He inched closer to her, taking a knee, extending his hand for her to smell him. His claws and fangs were gone, all that remained was a brawny man with open wounds.

  Her nose nuzzled his fingers. She eased still more. He wiped his bloody hands on his pants. He ran his hand through her fur, caressed her neck. She leaned her head into his leg for him to keep petting her.

  “It’s alright, we’re going to get out of here. You’re going to be fine.”

  She curled up into his arms and he caressed her side. She felt warm and protected when suddenly she no longer had fur and she felt his hand on her skin.