The Cursed (The Unearthly)

by Laura Thalassa

  Once we were inside, I shivered and rubbed my arms. “I think I have snow down my shirt and up my nose,” I said to Caleb.

  “I’m not even going to comment about where I have snow,” he said.

  Grigori led us through the room and down a short hallway lined with offices. Crime scene tape cordoned the rooms off, but from what I could see, all were empty. Whoever used this place had either removed all traces of their business here, or they’d only used a small portion of the space.

  At the end of the hallway, someone had propped open double doors that led into a large open room. When I caught my first glimpse inside, I was … unimpressed. Some crates lined the walls as well as what looked like several wooden two-by-fours. But other than that, the place was stripped bare.

  Reluctantly I walked further into the room. My eyes gravitated to a series of smudged markings on the ground. I pushed past some of the officers standing near them and crouched.

  I knew enough about the supernatural world to know what the rubbed out chalk had been used for. “A summoning circle,” I said softly.

  Some of the markings crisscrossed through the middle of the circle. The original lines were too destroyed to recreate the original drawing, but it didn’t take much imagination to hazard a guess.

  A pentagram.

  “Have any idea why our suspects might cast a circle?” Grigori asked.

  I thought back to Samhain. During that period of time, I’d seen a circle closed twice, once to communicate with the dead—which ended in a possession—and the other time to seal me inside a ley line with the devil. Needless to say, I wasn’t a fan of summoning circles.

  I pushed myself back up, and faced Grigori. “They wanted to either keep something out, or keep something in.”

  Something like a demon. Or the devil.

  Oliver jumped up from the lobby’s couch, where he’d been trolling the Internet. “How could you leave me trapped in this shithole?”

  “Shhh,” I hissed, shooting a glance at the innkeeper who was on the phone at the moment. “Can you not be rude for five seconds?”

  Even after Caleb and I had been dropped back off at the hotel that evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about our newest lead. A warehouse empty save for a few crates and a smudged out summoning circle.

  What dark rites had it been used for? Contacting the dead? Or something darker? And why? The plot was thickening.

  “I wanted to go shopping today,” Oliver said, “but no, Romania decided to throw a hissy and strand my ass here. And you were gone. Where have you been? And why can’t I come along?”

  I folded my arms over chest. “Want a little cheese with that whine?”

  Oliver narrowed his eyes at me. “Do you know how much time I’ve had on my hands?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Enough to paint my nails and detail each one.” He lifted his hands, and sure enough on each finger was a different Christmas design. One had a Christmas tree, another a snowman, and another a Santa hat.

  “Hey,” I said, grabbing his hand, “you’re actually pretty good at that.”

  Oliver snatched his hand away. “Of course I am.” He sniffed. “That’s what happens when you have several hours on your hands. “Oh, also, I looked at your notes,” he said, checking out his nails, “and I’m pretty sure one of your murder suspects is a cambion.”

  I stared at Oliver while his words sunk in. Why was I surprised? He’d figured out that demons were killing people during the Samhain murders, he just hadn’t thought to share it. Fairies.

  “A cambion,” I repeated.

  “Mmm-hmmm,” he said, turning his attention back to his computer.

  I leaned over the couch and snatched his computer from him.

  “Hey—”

  I began walking down the hall to my room, knowing he’d follow now that I had his laptop. It was leverage for his help. That, and what I was about to say.

  I threw him a glance over my shoulder. “I promise to go shopping with you if you tell me everything you know about cambions.”

  “During this trip?” Oliver asked hopefully, peeking over the couch.

  “Once the investigation is over, you can pick the date.” Why did I feel like I was signing my soul away by agreeing to this?

  Oliver weighed this information. “I’ll only agree to it if you actually buy clothes,” he said.

  “Fine.”

  “And I get to pick them out.”

  “Oliver …” This was going from bad to worse.

  “And you have to wear them.”

  I ground my teeth together. “You know,” I said, “I bet your bargains would give the devil a run for his money.”

  Oliver folded his arms and stared me down. “Damn straight they would.”

  I shifted my weight, throwing a longing glance at the door to my room. At this point, I’d do just about anything to solve this investigation and get back to the Isle of Man. “Fine, I agree to your hellish demands. Now, will you help me?”

  “I suppose,” Oliver said, acting like he was all put out when I knew better. He was a big ham when it came to attention. “Just know that I’m doing this for you, not the lame-ass institution you work for.”

  Did everyone and their mother hate the Politia?

  “Awesome,” I said, barely containing a massive eye roll. “Let me just grab Caleb.” I trotted over to Caleb’s room and knocked on his door. When it opened, I nearly dropped Oliver’s computer.

  It was the middle of the day and yet Andre stood in front of me.

  Chapter 14

  “What the h-hell?” I stuttered.

  Andre glanced down at himself. “I’m pretty convincing, aren’t I?” he said.

  More like terrifying beyond belief. It was Andre’s body, Andre’s voice, but it wasn’t Andre’s soul that resided beneath his skin.

  I socked Caleb in the arm. “Knock it off. I cannot even express just how creepy that is.”

  Caleb laughed, as though this were all one big joke.

  “I’m serious,” I said softly. I was picking up Andre’s quiet menace.

  Caleb-as-Andre grinned. It was such a Caleb mannerism, his mouth lifting more on one side than the other, that it made Andre look like a crude parody of himself. “Sorry,” he said, his tone suggesting he felt otherwise.

  Andre’s skin rippled and in his place stood Oliver. “This better?”

  Behind me I heard Oliver yelp. “Oh my God, ew, stop that!” he said, throwing a hand over his eyes. His fingers split apart wide enough for him to peer between them. “Do I really look like that?” he asked me.

  “No—this is the hot version of you,” I said sarcastically.

  He swatted my arm and dropped his hand from his face, inching closer to Caleb. Caleb watched him, wearing a satisfied smirk. I peered at Caleb-as-Oliver. I’d seen him shapeshift before—often in fact—but he’d rarely impersonated people.

  “People are harder to mimic,” Caleb said with Oliver’s voice, as if reading my mind.

  Oliver crept closer and, using his index finger, poked Caleb-as-Oliver.

  “Hey,” Caleb-as-Oliver said, rubbing the flesh Oliver poked. Oliver began to circle him. Once he’d made a full circle, he nodded to himself. “Damn, I look good.”

  Caleb-as-Oliver focused his gaze on me, his eyes mischievous. “Want to see what you look like?”

  My response was immediate. “No—”

  Even as I spoke Oliver’s skin rippled into something paler, more delicate. The clothes Caleb had been wearing hung loose on him now, and all of Oliver’s masculine edges dissolved into soft, feminine curves.

  I stared into my own face. My lips were too red, my cheekbones too high, hair too dark, and my skin too pale.

  Even more disturbing was that Caleb lay beneath that
skin. My skin.

  I glanced away. Looking at my double was not the same as looking in the mirror. No, it was way worse.

  “Don’t I look pretty?” Caleb asked jokingly, toying with a lock of my hair. Except it wasn’t Caleb’s voice that spoke. It was my own.

  I cringed at the voice. Like everything else, it was too much. Too feminine, too melodic. “Stop it,” I said, refusing to look at him—her—me.

  “Geez, Gabrielle,” Caleb said in my voice, “we all know you’re hideous, but you don’t have to look away like that.”

  “You’re not funny, Caleb,” I said, keeping my gaze averted. “Please, stop.”

  “Really?” he said in my voice. “Do you seriously not want to look at yourself?”

  I shook my head.

  I could feel his gaze boring into me but eventually he reverted back to himself. “Well that was—”

  I threw my fist forward and socked him in the face, making sure to hold back most of my strength. Even still, the force of my blow knocked him on his ass.

  “Bitch went down,” Oliver threw in, helpful as always.

  I stood over a moaning Caleb while he held his nose.

  “Don’t ever fucking pull that again without our permission,” I said.

  Caleb’s words came out muffled. “You didn’t have to punch me.”

  “That wasn’t a punch,” Oliver said, “that was her knocking the idiot out of you.” Oliver turned to me. “I don’t think it worked, either.”

  I tilted my head. “I could always try again.”

  Oliver pursed his lips in thought, as Caleb got to his feet. “Hasn’t anyone told you to use your words?” Caleb said.

  I raised my eyebrows, amused. “This is coming the guy who threatened to get his hands involved the next time Oliver and I got into an argument.”

  “For the record,” Oliver said, “I’m still interested in this hand business.”

  Caleb muttered something not so nice under his breath as he brushed himself off. “There will be no hand business,” he said.

  Oliver’s lips drew down in a pout.

  “So,” Caleb said, looking back and forth at us expectantly. “What is it that you two wanted to discuss oh-so-badly?”

  “Unholy creatures,” I said.

  Caleb’s face scrunched up. “What?”

  Oliver leaned into me. “Nope,” Oliver whispered, “you definitely did not knock the idiot out of him.”

  “So, what exactly is a cambion?” Caleb asked once we filled him in.

  I flipped through my notes to answer that exact question. I know I scanned a page about this supernatural being back at Peel Academy. Now I just had to find it. Which was proving difficult.

  “They are the offspring of a human and an incubus,” Oliver said.

  My head snapped up, my eyes round as saucers. “You mean … ?”

  “Yep,” Oliver said with a grin, “your little bedmates a couple months ago wanted to make lots of little cambions with you.”

  “I think I just barfed in my mouth.” No really, I just might’ve.

  Caleb looked back and forth between the two of us. “Incubi were visiting you?” he asked, alarmed.

  Oliver waved him off. “Yep, they were trying to get in Gabrielle’s nasty ol’ granny panties.”

  “Oli-ver,” I said, throwing a pen at him. Caleb looked disturbingly interested.

  “Ow,” Oliver said, rubbing his arm where the pen hit him, “you big skank-a-saurus. That hurt.”

  “Aww, did the wittle fairy get a wittle boo-boo?” I responded.

  “Does the wittle siren want me to open a wittle can of whoop-ass? ’Cause I will,” Oliver replied.

  Caleb groaned, as our conversation devolved. “Not this again.”

  My eyes thinned as I studied Oliver. “How do you know so much about cambions?”

  “Pillow talk.” Oliver slapped a hand over his mouth as soon as the words were out.

  My mouth dropped open.

  “I don’t think I want to be here,” Caleb said.

  “Did you … ?” I blinked. “With an … ?” No, he wouldn’t, not with an incubus …

  Oliver’s cheeks pinkened. “It’s nothing.” He laughed nervously.

  Guilty, guilty, guilty.

  “Oh my God, Oliver!” I said. “Those things want to steal your soul.”

  “Good thing he doesn’t have one,” Caleb muttered under his breath.

  Oliver glared at him. “They are very misunderstood creatures.”

  I shook my head. “Forget I asked. Just …” I shook my head again and shuddered.

  “So, what sort of beings are cambions?” Caleb asked, steering the conversation back on track.

  “They have the same powers as sirens, but they’re different beings,” Oliver said. “They can use glamour to get what they want.”

  “And what is it that they want?” Caleb asked.

  Oliver shrugged, checking out his nails. “Beats the hell out of me. Probably the same things as everyone else—money, sex, power.”

  “But not love?” Caleb asked.

  Oliver’s eyes flicked up. He peered at Caleb through his lashes, a sardonic smile on his face. “Love? Now that would go against everything the Politia believes about dark creatures, wouldn’t it?”

  Caleb held his stare. “I don’t agree with every belief the Politia holds.”

  “Hmm,” was all Oliver said.

  “The real question, we need to answer is this,” I said. “Why would a cambion wish to kill rather than seduce?”

  After Caleb and Oliver left, I grabbed the papers on dark creatures I’d Xeroxed back at Peel Academy and began flipping through them. My fingers paused when I reached the page on cambions.

  Cambions, or Black Death Beings—named so after the song “Ring Around the Rosie” because they are said to smell like flowers and ash—are the children of incubi and humans.

  Exceedingly rare, cambions are nonetheless dangerous creatures. Like their cousins, the sirens, cambions can use glamour to ensnare victims. However, like their parents and unlike sirens, cambions feed off of sexual acts to gain power.

  Next to the writing was a woodcut image of an overtly sexual female, a rose in her hand and a snake curled at her feet.

  Had there been any lingering doubt about the woman’s identity, this had dissolved it.

  We now knew the identity of one of our suspected killers, but what of the second one? The woman who stabbed me, the one who moved faster than a vampire—what was she?

  And why would either of them kill? And why angels? I twisted Andre’s ring round and around my finger, trying to divine the answer, but nothing came to me.

  A shadow outside my window moved, catching my attention. I glanced up at the stormy scene outside and jolted in my seat when the shadow coalesced.

  The devil had come to visit.

  Chapter 15

  I stood up abruptly, the chair I sat in tipping over in my haste. I’d seen him plenty in my dreams, but the last time he’d appeared in the real world was on Samhain.

  Evening, Gabrielle. His voice slithered along my skin. I forced my hands to stay at my sides though I desperately wanted to rub my arms.

  Outside the snowstorm had become a full on blizzard, and in the midst of it the devil stood, his hands in the pockets of his dark gray suit, his hair perfectly coiffed. He would’ve looked magnificent if he wasn’t so goddamned scary.

  But can’t the frightening also be magnificent? he asked, and I could hear the teasing note of his voice. That’s how close the devil and I had gotten—he teased me now.

  That and he read my mind.

  I was so screwed.

  “Get out of my head,” I said, watching him. I noticed the snow
pass right through him. He’s not really here. He’s not really here, I chanted to myself.

  Oh, I can promise you that I am here, he said. Would you like me to prove it?

  “No,” I said too quickly.

  He laughed, and the sound raised all the hairs along my arms. You are delightful when you’re frightened.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  To warn you.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Since when do you care about my wellbeing?”

  A slow smile spread across the devil’s face. Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.

  I felt lightheaded from breathing too quickly. I put a hand to the windowsill to steady myself, and only then did I feel the tremors that ran up my arm.

  I’d run if I were you.

  “Why?” I asked. Any command given by the devil was one I should ignore, but morbid curiosity won out.

  The word was barely out of my mouth when a car plowed into the parking lot. The devil grinned at me, and his image blew away just as the car drove straight through him.

  I didn’t do anything immediately, not until I saw the driver-side door open and a huge man step out of the car. A glint of fang caught my eye. That was all I needed to see.

  The coven had learned of my existence, and now they’d come for me.

  I turned from the window, letting my hair curtain over my face in case the vampire caught sight of me. Then I began moving. I slipped out of my room. The halls were quiet; most of the guests had already headed off to bed.

  Behind me I heard the front door open. Now I began to run, throwing glances over my shoulder. At the end of the hall was a back door. I threw it open just as I heard a shout behind me.

  Crap.

  I sprinted out into the blizzard. Only once the fierce, icy wind hit me did I realize my critical mistake: I was much more vulnerable out here. Without a coat I couldn’t last long, and the snowstorm obscured both my hearing and my vision.