Cursed

by Amanda Steiger

  Victor just laughed again, a gasping, choking laugh.

  Richard’s heart pounded. In his mind, Jessica screamed again. A flash, and suddenly, he was seeing through her eyes, seeing her palm covered with blood--her blood--saw the sheets stained red, saw more blood seeping through the front of her shirt. He felt her racing heartbeat, her dizzying terror as another convulsion of pain wracked her. She doubled up, gagging, tasting hot, coppery blood in her mouth.

  “No!” Richard cried, his voice ragged. He whirled Victor around and slammed him, hard, against a tree. Victor kept laughing, wheezing, his eyes rolling. Saliva dribbled from one corner of his mouth.

  Richard’s mind raced as his heart slammed against the wall of his chest. Jessica’s life was in the hands of a madman, a raving beast who could not be reasoned with, could not be threatened or coerced, a beast that didn’t even care if he died as long as he took her with him. He felt sick, furious, helpless. His body trembled with the force of his wild, dark anger as he seized Victor’s wrist and bent it backwards until the bones snapped. Victor, unbelievably, just kept laughing, as if he didn’t feel the pain.

  He had cast some spell on himself, thought Richard--that had to be it. He had somehow numbed himself to pain, so that he could not be tortured into undoing the curse. In desperation, Richard seized and snapped his other wrist. “Release her!” he shouted into Victor’s face.

  Victor sniggered and shook his head. His tongue darted out to lick his wet lips. “I feel her fear,” he gasped out. “I taste it. It’s delicious.”

  “You twisted, depraved….”

  “You can kill me,” he said, “but if you do, she dies with me. We are linked. I’ve anchored myself into her mind, deep, deep down, where even you can’t dig me out. I’ve won!”

  Desperate, Richard did the only thing he could think of. He gave Victor a hard, mental shove into unconsciousness. Victor went limp, eyes rolling back.

  In his mind, Jessica’s screams faded into tiny, frightened whimpers. She lay in sheets wet with her own blood. Her clothes were soaked with it. Waves of pain and nausea still rolled through her. He felt every emotion and physical sensation as if it were his own.

  “Hold on, Jessica.” He whispered the words, both aloud and inside her mind. “I’m coming. I won’t leave you alone.”

  I’ll be all right, she sent, though her thoughts were clouded with pain.

  A painful spasm gripped his heart. She was hurting so much, yet still, she sought to reassure him.

  Richard crouched by Victor’s unconscious form, his mind racing. How to get him back to the mansion? Carrying him the entire way would be awkward and slow, regardless of which form he took, and he couldn’t travel through the Void, not with an unconscious person. Victor would be left behind here, or lost in the nothingness, and Richard could not afford to lose him when Jessica’s life depended on it.

  Richard closed his eyes and reached out with his mind until he located a familiar pattern of thoughts. Trevor, he sent, I need your help.

  Where are you? Trevor asked. That was what Richard liked about Trevor. In an emergency, he didn’t waste time.

  Richard sent Trevor a bird’s eye image of his location, based on what he knew of the surroundings. Then, as quickly as he could, he explained the situation--not in words, but in an instantaneous flash of pictures and emotions, replaying his own memories of discovering Victor’s treachery and finding him crouched over the dead human woman.

  He is the only one who can undo Jessica’s curse, Richard sent. I must get him back to the mansion as quickly as possible.

  Right, sent Trevor. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

  Richard waited, pacing. He wished he had some ropes to bind Victor with. With two broken wrists, Victor probably wouldn’t have much fight left in him, but with a lunatic like the black fox, it was difficult to be sure--especially when he seemed to have no sense of pain.

  He reached out for Jessica’s mind again, but he couldn’t feel it. Had she fallen unconscious, passed out with exhaustion? Or was something else blocking him?

  He heard the steady, rhythmic flap of enormous wings. Looking up, he saw a dark shadow overhead, blocking out the moon, a shadow with spread wings. It was bigger than an eagle, bigger than any living species of bird. It was a gigantic raven, with jet-black, glossy feathers, a yellow beak like a sword, and sharp, splayed claws.

  The claws closed around Victor, easily encircling his limp form. Trevor beat his wings, lifting Victor into the sky.

  Richard shifted back into cat-form and ran through the forest, following the great, black shape in the air. Normally, on those few, rare occasions he shifted to animal form, he reveled in the sense of power, the strength surging through his limbs, the enhanced senses of smell and hearing which made the forest come alive.

  Now, however, he could think only of Jessica. He reached out for her again. Still nothing.

  Fear squeezed his heart with a cold hand. Even if she was asleep, he should still be able to perceive her. Either she was deeply unconscious, or….

  No. He couldn’t bring himself to consider it.

  At last, his mansion came into view. Trevor swooped low, dropping Victor on the ground, then flew back into the clear, open sky.

  Thank you, sent Richard.

  You owe me, friend, Trevor sent back. Then he cut off the link.

  Richard approached Victor’s form. Unconscious and naked on the ground, he looked as helpless as a newborn, but Richard knew better than to trust appearances. In that body lurked the soul of a cold-blooded murderer who had inflicted a slow death upon a woman whose only crime had been to defend her life.

  Richard lifted him and slung him over one shoulder like a sack of grain. He unlocked the front door and entered. His heart pounded as he strode through the main hall. “Jessica!” he called.

  No response.

  He broke into a run. When he reached the door to her bedroom, he flung it open. Jessica lay motionless in bed, her face white as a sheet, her mouth open, her clothes drenched in blood. Lowering Victor to the floor, he approached, trembling, and leaned down to press his ear to her chest. He could hear her heartbeat, very faintly. It was weak, uneven, straining to beat.

  Straightening, he took her face gently between his hands. He reached out with his mind, reached deep into hers, searching for the spark of her consciousness. He encountered a frightening emptiness. “No,” he whispered. He shut his eyes and reached deeper still.

  There!

  Something flickered, a faint glow. He focused on it, speaking with his mind. I’m here, Jessica. I have Victor, and he’s going to undo the curse. You’re going to be all right. Do you here me? I’m going to bring you back.

  Richard, she whispered. Her mental voice was weak, so weak. She was clinging to life with all her strength, but she was slipping away.

  Victor stirred and groaned. Richard looked over his shoulder to see Victor curled up in a corner of the room. He was awake, eyes half-open, watching Richard distrustfully as he cradled his broken wrists against his chest. Richard approached slowly, and Victor flinched away. “You can torture me all you like,” he said. “I won’t feel anything.”

  “Is that so?” Richard crouched so he was at eye-level with the other man. “You’re breathing awfully hard. I think, perhaps, the spell has worn off.” He smiled. From the way it felt on his face, and the way Victor’s eyes widened, it must have been a very unpleasant smile. He was glad that Jessica wasn’t awake to see this. “You can make this easy,” said Richard. “Undo the curse, and I’ll grant you a quick execution.”

  “You won’t even spare me?” asked Victor. “What sort of bargain is that?”

  “We both know you’re too dangerous to live. How many have you killed, Victor?”

  “They don’t count. They were humans.”

  “How many?”

  Victor’s lip curled in a sneer. He didn’t answer.

  “I’ll repeat my offer. Undo her curse, and be granted a quick death,” said
Richard. “Refuse and I can make this as unpleasant as I need to.”

  A growl rippled from Victor’s throat. “Go to hell!” Before Richard’s eyes, he began to transform, black fur sprouting in patches on his face, chest and back, jaws stretching into a muzzle. His jaws opened wide to reveal his long, jagged teeth. Richard pulled back as the teeth snapped shut, just inches from his face.

  Somewhere deep in his mind, Jessica cried out, a distant, lonely sound. And then there was silence. He felt the weak spark of her life-force flicker and die.

  Cold panic seized his heart. He whirled around to face her. “Jessica!”

  Victor laughed, a shrill, manic laugh.

  Richard leaned over her, his fingers frantically seeking a pulse in her pale throat. Nothing.

  He pressed an ear to her chest. Nothing. He breathed in her scent. It was cold, the stale, flat smell of death. “No!”

  Victor was still laughing, his head thrown back, his mouth open. Richard clenched his fist.

  Raising his other hand, he lengthened the nail of his first finger into a long, sharp talon and approached Victor in two long strides.

  With a single, sweeping movement, he slit Victor’s throat. Blood spilled down Victor’s naked chest. He let out a choking, sputtering cough, eyes bulging as he fought for breath.

  Spittle bubbled and frothed, dripping from his mouth, turning pink as it mixed with his blood. Then he slumped, half-transformed, jaws still frozen open. Dull yellow eyes stared into space, clouded over with death.

  Richard turned away from the sight and looked at Jessica, pale and motionless on the bed.

  Slowly, he approached and lifted her limp form into his arms. She seemed so tiny, so incredibly fragile. Without the power of her life-force, the strength of her will, her body seemed so insubstantial. It was like holding a doll. Tears stinging his eyes, he bent and kissed her lips, very softly.

  Victor had deserved a death much worse than the one he’d been granted. The only thing that had stopped Richard was knowing that Jessica would not have wanted him to turn into a torturer for her sake.

  What did it matter, anyway? She was gone now. Nothing mattered.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, Jessica still cradled in his arms. Throwing back his head, he roared in agony, a deep, thunderous sound that reverberated throughout the mansion.

  When the last echoes died away, he hung his head, eyes squeezed shut.

  Richard.

  His breath caught in his throat. Slowly, he raised his head, opening his eyes. “Jessica?” he whispered hoarsely. He waited, but there was no reply. Had he only imagined it?

  He cradled her face with one hand, hope flickering faintly in his heart.

  Jessica’s body was dead. Of that, there was no doubt. But there was a chance--albeit a small one--that her soul had not yet fled to the realm of the afterlife, that it still hovered in the gray space between life and death. Souls with especially strong willpowers, and a reason to live, had been known to linger in that space for as long as several hours. If that was the case, there might still be a chance to bring her back. Victor had hoped to drag her into death with him, but now that he was dead, the curse would be broken. If she could be brought back, she would be free of its grip.

  Richard closed his eyes and reached out with his mind.

  Over the years, he had become familiar with the many uses of his gift, from the mundane to the obscure. He had learned things that were forbidden to most people, dangerous information.

  He slipped into a trance and felt himself descending through layers of darkness, until he met a barrier of solid black, the barrier between life and death. He pushed against it, felt it stretching. He knew that if he pushed too hard, he could easily slip through, into the realm of the dead--but at this point, death was a small risk to take. Life without Jessica did not seem worthwhile. He had been in love with her for so long, longer than she would ever understand or believe. He could not lose her now. He pushed harder, until he could see, faintly, what lay beyond, a white emptiness.

  Jessica! he screamed with his mind.

  Richard.

  Her voice again, still faint, but closer now. He moved toward it, deeper into the barrier, reaching out. She was close. He sensed it. Just a little further ….

  Jessica, come to me!

  He felt a hand close tightly around his, and with a frantic heave, he pulled her back into the realm of the living.

  Chapter Six

  Jessica gasped, her eyes flying open. A flush of color returned to her white cheeks as she panted for breath, looking wildly around.

  Richard held her tightly, his eyes brimming with tears of relief. “You are safe,” he whispered hoarsely. “Victor is dead. The curse is gone.” He stroked her hair, holding her close against him until her racing heartbeat slowed.

  She gulped, clinging to the front of his shirt. She looked up, eyes wide. “I was dead,” she whispered. “Wasn’t I?”

  He nodded.

  “Then how? How am I here now?”

  “I brought you back,” he said simply. He grazed her soft cheek with his knuckles, ran his thumb over her lower lip. “Not even death could keep me from you, Jessica.”

  “Richard….”

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. When at last their mouths parted, he laid her gently on the bed. “Rest, now,” he said softly. “You’re still weak.”

  Jessica glanced at the corner of the room, where Victor’s corpse lay, and a small, frightened sound escaped her throat.

  “Don’t be afraid. He cannot hurt you now.” Richard stood. “I’ll bury this,” he said. “Far away, in the forest.” He opened a chest in the corner of the room, took out a spare blanket, and rolled Victor’s corpse in it, hiding him from view--all but his legs, which dangled out one end. The blanket wasn’t quite large enough to cover them.

  Richard stood, the bloodstained body in his arms. “I will return,” he said, and walked out of the room.

  He found a secluded spot in the forest, perhaps a mile from his mansion, and dropped the body. I should leave it for the scavengers, he thought. But he knew that Jessica would not want him to. Besides, the presence of a dead body would attract the attention of human authorities, which could cause problems. Richard shifted forms, altering his front paws just enough to make his claws thicker and sturdier than usual, and dug a deep hole. He nudged the body into it and covered it with soil. There would be no gravestone, no marker.

  No words could be said over such a man. He simply patted down the soil and kicked some rocks and leaves over it to disguise the grave’s presence. When the job was done, he returned to the mansion and washed up.

  When he entered the bedroom, Jessica was sitting up in bed. She was pale, but she looked otherwise normal. “You killed him yourself, I take it,” she said quietly.

  He nodded.

  Jessica drew in a breath. “I thought we agreed that we would face Victor together.”

  “We did. I broke the agreement,” he said.

  She frowned, and then looked away, sighing. “Somehow, I can’t bring myself to be very angry at you.” Looking up, she gave him a small smile. “I’m just happy that you’re all right. But once the relief wears off, you’re going to get a long lecture about the importance of honoring your promises.”

  “If you had attempted to fight Victor, he would have killed you,” Richard said.

  “The risk was mine to take. If you had died fighting him, I would never have forgiven myself.”

  “Unlikely,” said Richard. “Victor was never any match for me. His madness and rage gave him strength, but ultimately, strength is not enough. He had no control. He was only a wild animal.” He sat next to her and looked into her eyes, smoothing her hair. “How do you feel?”

  “Weak,” she said, “but otherwise, fine. The curse is gone. I feel it.” She looked up at him, her eyes solemn. “You have given me back my life. How will I ever repay you?”

  “There is no debt,” h
e said softly. He took her hand in his and held it tightly, looking into her amber-gold eyes. “To have you back is reward enough.” He stood. “Now, you must eat and regain your strength. Wait here.” He walked out of the room and returned shortly after with a bowl of stew and some bread. He sat next to the bed, waiting as Jessica ate.

  She finished the meal quickly, wiping the last bit of stew from the bowl with a crust of bread and sliding the crust into her mouth. “Drink,” said Richard, holding a glass of water to her lips. He slid his fingers into her hair, holding her head in place as she drank.

  She sighed softly in contentment. “Thank you.”

  He set the glass aside and pulled her closer, onto his lap. She tensed, and for a moment, he thought she was going to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead, she relaxed and nestled closer, resting her cheek against his chest, over his heartbeat. For a few minutes, he simply held her close, listening to her breathing, hardly daring to believe that she was here, alive and safe in his arms. “I will never forgive myself for almost losing you,” Richard whispered.

  “But you brought me back.”

  “If I’d protected you properly, it wouldn’t have been necessary.”

  She looked up at him, frowning. “I’m not your responsibility.”

  He smiled slightly. “As you’ve said. But as often as you say it, my heart won’t listen. My heart thinks you are mine.” He looked into her large, amber-gold eyes. “Be my mate, Jessica.”

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “Because I love you. I love only you.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I don’t understand you, Richard,” she said quietly. “How can you claim to love only me, yet share your bed with so many other women?”

  He sighed. “I am cursed,” he said, “with a hunger that can never be sated.”

  Jessica crossed her arms over her chest. “All men have desires, but not all men sleep with as many women as you do.”