Cursed

by Amanda Steiger

  Jessica stepped out, moving in swift, delicate steps. Her heart pounded. The sudden glare of the spotlight nearly blinded her. The faces in the audience were a blur. She’d done this act countless times before, but still, the moment when she stepped onto the stage, in front of all those staring eyes, was always nerve-wracking. She wasn’t a natural performer. To expose herself and her powers like this went against all her instincts.

  Taking a deep breath, Jessica lifted her arms, mimicking Bruce’s motions. She opened her mouth and relaxed her consciousness, letting the beast rise within her. What emerged from her throat was not a human sound, but a low, sonorous howl, clear and full.

  She felt the beast within her like a separate being, struggling to break free from the confines of her humanity. She let the last of her control slip away, and the beast filled her, consumed her from inside out.

  There was always some pain when she transformed. Skin rippled and stretched, muscles tore apart and rearranged themselves, bones crackled and realigned. She felt the pain only dimly, though, through the ecstasy of becoming another creature, feeling the incredible energy of the shift pouring through every fiber of her being.

  When the transformation was over, a sleek gray wolf stood in Jessica’s place, facing the lion. Bruce’s velvet muzzle wrinkled, baring long, sharp fangs as he roared at her again, a sound that seemed to shake the whole room. The two predators circled each other, slowly, warily. A heavy drumbeat started up, emanating from hidden speakers. Jessica felt the rhythm vibrating in the hollows of her bones, felt her heartbeat quickening to match it. She felt something moving through her, a pulsing energy. It seemed to circle around the room, from her to Bruce to the audience, and back to her again. It was Richard, she knew. It was his mind-gift, moving through everyone, drawing them into the spell, into the mock-battle between the two creatures on stage. He was hypnotizing all of them.

  She’d been held in this spell before--it was all part of the act--but she never quite got used to the feeling. It was like being in a dream. Nothing felt quite real, and yet, all her senses were heightened. Everything was unnaturally crisp and clear, from Bruce’s whiskers to the sound of the audience members’ breathing.

  The drumbeat quickened. Jessica leapt. Bruce reared up on his hind legs and swung one huge paw. It cannoned into her chest, knocking her aside. She crashed into the wall and fell to the stage. It was a controlled fall, but it looked real, and the audience gasped.

  Jessica rose and leapt again. The drums had reached a feverish pace. The lion and wolf circled, snarled, darted and snapped, teeth clashing together like steel traps. He knocked her down again, with a swipe of his paw. As he leaned over to finish the kill, Jessica buried her teeth in his throat … or appeared to, rather. Her jaws closed harmlessly over the thick fluff of his mane, but Bruce let out a low, rumbling groan and sank to the stage, where he lay motionless, a tawny bulk. Jessica climbed atop him and howled.

  Applause thundered as the stage went dark. Jessica and Bruce retreated behind the curtains.

  They transformed and quickly dressed. Bruce wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. Jessica stood facing the mirror, pulling the strap of her dress over her shoulder and buttoning up the front.

  Bruce chuckled. “Don’t know why I’m always the loser. Maybe one of these days, you’ll let me kill you for a change.”

  Jessica forced a small laugh. She found herself thinking of the swan girl, struggling in Victor’s arms. Why did there always have to be death? Was that all the audience ever wanted?

  Looking into the mirror, she applied her contact lenses, drowning out the yellow fire in her eyes. “Bruce?” she said suddenly. “Does it ever bother you?”

  “Hmm?”

  “The shows, I mean. Putting ourselves out there in front of the humans and making a spectacle of ourselves. Aren’t we just feeding their perception of us as monsters?”

  “Don’t get political on me now,” said Bruce. “It’s just a show. They know it isn’t real.”

  “Yes, but….” She sighed. “Never mind. I’m just in a strange mood tonight.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He gave her shoulder a brief, friendly clap. “See you tomorrow.”

  He left the room.

  Jessica stood a moment longer, staring into the mirror. She felt suddenly cold and rubbed her arms. The back of her neck tingled, as if she were being watched.

  “Quite a performance,” said a raspy voice.

  She gave a small gasp and whirled around. Victor stood behind her, still in his black fox-

  mask. She could see nothing within the dark eye-holes. “Victor, I … I didn’t hear you come in,” she said. Her eyes darted back and forth. “Listen, I really can’t stay.”

  His hand darted out, gripping her wrist. She tensed. “Let go of me.”

  “We need to have a little talk, you and I,” he said. She saw the gleam of a knife in his hand.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound emerged. It was as if a ghostly hand had wrapped itself around her vocal chords and squeezed, cutting off her voice. Jessica’s eyes widened. She tried to pull away, but a cold tendril of power slipped into her brain, and suddenly, she was paralyzed, frozen in place. Her heart thundered in her chest.

  “Surprised?” Victor’s voice rasped. He chuckled. “I’ve grown more powerful since my brother’s death. More powerful than you or anyone else can imagine.” He leaned closer.

  His eyes glinted, deep within the dark openings in the mask. The sharp, cold tip of a knife caressed her cheek. “I’m inside your mind,” he whispered. “You’re completely within my power.” The knife slid down to her throat, resting against her rapid pulse. “You’re frightened, aren’t you? Good.” Behind the mask, his breathing quickened. “Do you know, she-wolf, that Vincent was the only person I ever loved? How do you suppose I felt when I learned he had died by the hand of a cowardly bitch?”

  Through her fear, Jessica felt a hot stab of anger. She narrowed her eyes and tried to speak, but no sound emerged.

  The knife-tip poked her throat, not quite hard enough to break the skin. “I could kill you right now. It would be so easy. But a quick death would be too good for you. No. I want to make sure you suffer. And oh, how you’ll suffer.” He began to whisper words in another language, a strange, dark, silken tongue. Jessica felt cold tendrils of magic wrapping around her, binding her. They pierced her skin, and she gasped as the spell snaked through her body and coiled around her heart. Pain, sharp and penetrating, shot through her. It was unbearable, like white-hot needles shooting through every nerve. She wanted to scream, but only a faint whimper escaped her throat.

  Victor’s laughter echoed in her ears as the pain dragged her down into darkness.

  ———

  Jessica blinked and looked around the dressing room. She was sitting in the chair in front of the mirror, alone. What had happened? A moment ago, she’d been talking to Bruce, and then a blank, as if she had fallen asleep for a few minutes. Jessica touched her forehead.

  “Must be tired,” she murmured. She’d been daydreaming for a moment. That was all.

  “Jessica?”

  She gave a start and looked up. Richard stood in the door to the dressing room.

  She stood quickly. “You shouldn’t come in here without knocking.”

  “I apologize,” he said, and for once, he sounded sincere. “I just wanted to check on you. Is everything all right?”

  She blinked. The concern in his voice seemed so real. “Of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I thought I heard … never mind.” He was staring at her so strangely, his eyes intent, searching her face. She felt a flush rising into her cheeks. “You did an excellent job tonight, my dear. Your performance was very convincing.”

  Jessica nodded, too preoccupied to reply. She felt odd.

  Richard frowned. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes. I’m sure,” she said, though she wasn’t.

  He to
ok a step closer. “Has Victor been in here?”

  She looked up, her brow furrowed. “No,” she said. “Why?”

  The tension eased out of his shoulders. “I just wondered. Go home and rest, my dear. You look exhausted.”

  ———

  Shortly after, Jessica stared out the rain-smeared windshield, listening to the wipers flick back and forth as she drove back to her apartment. A sudden, sharp pain in her stomach made her gasp. She pulled over to the side of the road and doubled over, gasping, one hand pressed to her stomach. The pain faded slowly. When she raised her hand, her eyes widened in horror. Blood glistened on her palm. She looked down and saw a spreading, dark stain, blood soaking through her dress. With shaking fingers, she undid three buttons, exposing her stomach. There was no wound, but her skin was smeared with blood. As she watched, more of it welled up from her pores like sweat, shining crimson beads. A small, frightened moan escaped her throat. A wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her, and she slumped forward, her forehead resting against the cool, plastic steering wheel. Tears filled her eyes.

  This was no disease. This was a curse. Someone wanted her dead.

  Chapter Three

  Jessica’s eyes opened slowly as she surfaced from the memories, and found herself once again in the bedroom of Richard’s mansion. “Victor,” she whispered. Her hands curled into tight fists, the nails biting into her palms. So it had been Victor, after all. But how had he gotten so powerful so quickly? It seemed impossible. It took years, sometimes decades, to master the dark arts.

  Of course, to a man consumed by madness and a feverish desire for vengeance, perhaps no feat was impossible. He might have sold his soul to a demon for greater power. Men did such things, when they were desperate or eaten up with hatred, though it was something no sane person would consider.

  She heard footsteps, and tensed. The door creaked open, and Richard peered in. “Ah. You’re awake.” He entered, carrying a silver chalice.

  Slowly, she sat up, propping herself up on one arm. She still felt slightly weak, but no longer dizzy.

  Richard sat on the edge of the bed. “Drink this.” He pressed the cup into her hands.

  “What is it?”

  “An herbal mixture. It will give you strength.”

  She sipped the hot drink. It tasted faintly bitter, but it wasn’t wholly unpleasant.

  “Richard….” Her hands tightened on the cup. “I remember.”

  He looked at her, his expression unreadable. He waited, silent.

  “It was Victor,” she said. “The Black Fox.”

  Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Him? No, it cannot be. He wouldn’t have the power to perform a curse like this.”

  “I remember clearly,” said Jessica. “He came to me in the dressing room after the show, still wearing his mask. I could not mistake his voice.”

  Richard drew in a slow breath. “And I told you he was not to be feared,” he murmured.

  His hand, resting on the bed, curled slowly into a fist. “I should have foreseen that he would seek his revenge on you. How could I have been so blind?”

  “You could not have known.”

  He shook his head. “I should have been more cautious. I should have anticipated this. I have been a fool.” Jessica realized, with surprise, that he was shaking. “Let me find him, Jessica. I will force him to undo the curse.”

  “I couldn’t ask that of you. It is not your place.”

  He stared deep into her eyes. “I cannot allow you to risk your life when I am the one responsible for your condition. Victor overpowered you once. What makes you think he cannot do so again?”

  “This time I would be prepared,” she said.

  “No. If he had the power to cast a spell like this, he is too dangerous for you to confront.”

  “And you think you can?” asked Jessica. “You think yourself so much stronger than me?”

  She pulled her hand away. “No, Richard. And I won’t allow you to take responsibility for this. You couldn’t have been expected to know what that weak, cowardly creature was capable of, any better than I could. I intend to deal with this myself.”

  His eyes flashed with anger. “You’re a little fool.”

  She tensed. “And you’re an overbearing, arrogant….”

  “If you face Victor alone, you will die. At the very least, let me accompany you. He might be a match for one of us, but not for the two of us together.”

  “And what will you claim as your payment?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I already owe you a favor for undoing the spell on my mind. This will put me in even greater debt to you. Don’t you think I know the code of our people? All such debts must be repaid. And the manner of payment will be of your choosing.” She took a deep breath.

  “I know what you want of me, Richard.”

  “That is not the manner in which I would choose to acquire it,” he said.

  “Are you saying you won’t claim repayment for the debt?”

  “As I said, I bear a certain amount of responsibility for what happened to you. There will be no debt. Not for this, nor for the help I’ve given you so far.”

  She was silent.

  “Say yes, Jessica,” he said quietly, but firmly. “If you don’t, I will find some other way to protect you. I cannot bear the thought of you facing Victor alone.”

  Jessica was silent, staring into space. At last, she nodded. “Very well. I pray I will not regret this.”

  Richard took her hand and squeezed it. Jessica blinked in surprise at the gesture. “We must leave as soon as possible,” said Richard. “We have no time to waste. But you’re still weak. Undoing that memory-obstruction spell took a great deal out of both of us, I’m afraid, and a full night’s rest would do wonders. I think it would be best if we waited until tomorrow to seek out Victor.”

  “Yes. I believe you’re right.”

  “In the meantime, let me bring you something to eat. I made some soup while you slept.”

  “Thank you. I would like that.”

  Richard rose and left the room.

  Jessica sighed softly and sank into the bed, staring at the ceiling. There were moments when she desperately wanted to trust him. But after being betrayed by a series of men, starting with her father, who had abandoned her soon after her mother’s death, she was not inclined to trust so easily again, especially not someone with a reputation like Richard’s. If the rumors were true, he’d slept with half the females in the shape-shifting community, and quite a few humans, as well. He simply wanted to add her to his long list of conquests.

  She rolled onto her side, facing the wall, and drew her knees up to her chest. A memory flashed through her head, a memory of Victor’s masked face, his breath rasping softly behind the black muzzle, as he held a knife to her throat. Shivering slightly, she pulled the covers tighter around herself.

  “Are you all right, Jessica?” asked Richard.

  Jessica gave a start and looked up. He stood, holding a bowl. Steam rose from within, and the smell--shellfish--made Jessica’s mouth water. “I’m fine,” she said quickly.

  “You don’t lie very convincingly,” said Richard, pulling up a chair to sit beside her. He set the bowl on the table next to her bed. “You always look away.”

  Jessica’s shoulders tensed. “What do you want me to say?” Defiantly, she raised her eyes and looked straight into his. “Fine. I’m scared. Is that what you want to hear? I am afraid of this curse, and afraid of what I must do, but that doesn’t change anything. I have to confront him.”

  Richard sighed. “Eat,” he said.

  Jessica picked up the bowl and lifted a spoonful of the thick, chunky soup to her lips. She blew on it lightly before slipping it into her mouth. Richard watched, hands folded in front of him, as she ate. “It’s good,” she admitted.

  He smiled slightly, showing a glint of sharp teeth between his lips. “You see? I’m good for some things, after all.” He reached ou
t to touch her cheek, but she pulled away.

  “I warn you, Richard, if you start your foolish games with me, I’ll leave. I won’t take up your offer of help if you’re going to abuse it.”

  “Why do you pull away every time I reach out to you? Have I ever harmed you?”

  “No, but that isn’t the point.”

  “Then what is? Why do you resist me so?”

  “Why do you assume that every woman you meet is so enamored with you that she’ll fling her legs open after a few token compliments?”

  “You desire me.” He stated it simply, without arrogance, as one would state a self-evident fact. His face was open, his gaze direct. “As I desire you. Yet you have always kept your distance. I wonder about your reasons, that’s all. You are not a woman to be frightened of anything, least of all her own desires.”

  Her hand tightened on her spoon. “All right,” she said, “you have a pretty face, and a body to match. It means nothing. I’m not like you. I can’t share my bed with someone without sharing some of my heart, as well, and that is not something I do lightly.”

  “And if I told you that you already have my heart?”

  His words sent a small shiver through her, but she ignored the feeling. “I wouldn’t believe it. If it were true, you wouldn’t sleep with any silly girl who caught your fancy.”

  He hesitated. “The situation is more complicated than you might imagine.”

  She frowned. “What are you talking about? Is your reputation not true? Have you not slept with countless other women? They say your lovers number into the hundreds. Do you deny that?”

  “I don’t know. I lost count a long time ago.”