Cursed (The Curse Trilogy Book 1)

by Nicole Marsh

  Mom’s face visibly pales, but she aims a shaky smile at me regardless. In a flippant tone she replies, “Of course they know we’re witches, sweetie. Vlad’s parents have witching blood running through their veins, they lived on this side of town for years.” She pauses and I can tell she’s formulating a lie or at the very least a half-truth, as she scrunches her forehead searching for what to say to my second question. “You’ll have to ask the Mort’s why they moved across town next time you see them. They probably just wanted a change in scenery.”

  She picks her magazine back up and keeps flipping through, but it doesn’t look as if she’s paying the pages much attention now. I know she’s not telling the truth. My mom doesn’t lie often, which is good because she’s terrible at it. Excusing myself from the table before our food arrives, I rush upstairs with a mission formulating in my mind.

  When I get to my room, I throw open my armoire and shove my coven history book all the way to the back, out of sight. After I slam the doors shut, I snatch up my purse, and grab my keys. Heading down to my car, I yell out “I’ll be back later!” before jumping into my Prius and cautiously backing down our steep driveway.

  I have a bone to pick with Vlad Mort.

  10

  The Doghouse

  Mirabella

  I’m fuming as I drive to Vlad’s house. The more I think about everything my mom told me today- about the town, about our family, about the coven- the more confident I am that the information slotting into place in my mind is accurate.

  Somehow Vlad doesn’t have witching blood, which caused his family to move across town. His parents must have told him about the reason they had to move. Vlad ruined our friendship and started bullying me because he was jealous that I have witching blood running through my veins and he doesn’t.

  I’m driving over to his house, so I can give him a piece of my mind. What a horrible, awful reason to treat someone the way he treated me. Not only is it out of my control that I was blessed with my parent’s witching blood and he wasn’t, but I didn’t even know. He’s tormented me for years, ruined high school for me, and all over something that was predetermined by genetics? Well that all ends today.

  I park haphazardly in front of Vlad’s house, near the curb, but not as close as I should be for a legal parallel park. Normally I would straighten out to make sure the road wasn’t blocked for other drivers, but I’m feeling bolder than usual and don’t bother.

  I don’t plan to stay here for long, anyways. I’m here to yell at Vlad the jealous jerk, then move on.

  Stalking up to the door, I keep my anger at the forefront of my mind. I’m not sure what I’m going to say to yet. Honestly, my plan didn’t go past getting in the car to drive to Vlad’s house and tell him how I feel about his behavior over the past few years. The rest will just be winging it.

  I pound my fist against his front door. Maybe a little too hard, my hand is pulsing a bit when I pull it away. Waiting on the porch has my anger rising all over again, how dare he ignore my knock?!

  Just as I raise my fist to slam into the door again, Vlad opens the door. He goes from looking curious to pissed, immediately. I don’t understand what he has to be upset about, I’m the only one on this doorstep that has a right to be angry!

  Vlad grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me inside, slamming the door behind me. “What are you doing here?” His face is red, he looks absolutely livid.

  I brush his hands off of my shirt, my own expression an angry frown. “Why are you mad at me? I’m here to pick a bone with you!”

  “There’s a rabid wolf loose on the street. It’s on the news, I don’t know why you couldn’t call instead of putting yourself in danger, roaming my neighborhood for no reason.”

  Oh. His words effectively deflate some of my anger. He isn’t mad that I’m at his house, he’s mad that I was standing outside with an unpredictable wild animal on the loose in the town. Actually that’s kind of sweet.

  Suddenly I realize that Vlad and I are standing very close and he’s currently shirtless. Clad only in a pair of basketball shorts, hung low on his hips. I’m transfixed by his abs, all eight of them. His breath draws my focus up to his hard pecs and I’m entranced watching the rise and fall of his chest.

  A loud throat clearing brings me back to the current moment and I scramble to regain control of the situation. I’m no longer as angry as I was before, but I still need to talk to Vlad about this and dive right into the issue at hand. “Have you bullied me for the last three years because I’m a witch and you’re not?”

  Vlad’s eyes widen with panic and he darts his gaze around the room. In a low voice he responds, “You can’t just shout the word witch wherever you want, whenever you feel like it.”

  I nod, pretending I care or understand what he’s going on about. “But is that why?”

  Vlad walks down the hall to his room and sits on the bed with a sigh, hanging his head. I stay, hovering in the doorway not sure where to go next. I expected him to deny it outright, then I’d have to pester him to drag the truth out, but that isn’t what’s happening at all.

  He lifts his head, his amber eyes burning into mine. “I bullied you for a couple months when we were teenagers. After I found out about the curse…” He drops his gaze then continues, “After I found out about the curse, I was angry and you were an easy target to direct that at. You had everything I wanted. So yeah I guess part of it was because of your witching blood. When you didn’t react to me ignoring you, just ignored me back, I pulled a few pranks, but that’s it.”

  “A couple of months?” I prod at his words, wanting to juice the truth out of him like he’s an orange. “You’ve tormented me directly and indirectly with your followers for years.”

  Vlad’s eyes shoot back up, his gaze is hard, jaw set. “I stopped messing with you after I moved across town. My parents and I talked and they encouraged me to see the truth, none of this,” He pauses to gesture around his room, “Is your fault. It’s not really anyone’s fault. I mean, sometimes at Sunday Dinner, I’ll pick at you to get you to talk to me, but I’m never intentionally malicious. I understand why you decided to stop being my friend after I left though, no one really has friends from the opposite side of the Main Road.”

  I slide down the wall behind me, slinking to the floor. Two months. He bullied me for two months, then stopped, but no one else did. All these years, I’ve ignored Vlad any time he’s at my house or any time that he called, until he finally stopped showing up, finally stopped trying. He probably thought I ended our friendship because he moved across the street, meanwhile I thought he was the orchestrator of all the pranks and bullying that I was constantly subjected to. Both in school and out.

  “The bullying never stopped.” I say it in a quiet voice, but I can tell from Vlad’s tensing shoulders that he heard my words across the room. “I thought it was you. Even earlier today, when garbage was dumped on me. I blamed you. It doesn’t matter if you weren’t directly involved in the pranks. I thought that you planned them all with your friends.” I’m staring at my knees, unable to look at Vlad, even as I hear rustling then his footsteps padding across the soft carpet.

  His feet stop directly in front of me, I can see them through the gap in my knees. I feel too vulnerable to look at him, too raw with the realization that Vlad didn’t make these people hate me and treat me poorly. They banded together and chose to do it all on their own. Helplessness replaces the space that was previously occupied by my anger with Vlad.

  When he sinks to his haunches in front of me, I just stare at my knees. I can’t meet his eyes, I want to sink into the floor, find a new home between the dark space between the carpet and the wooden floorboards underneath. It felt different when I thought I was up against one person, it was a battle of wills. A test to prove that I wouldn’t break before Vlad did. It would all come to an end when Vlad tired of his games. But now, it just seems like I’ll be on the receiving end of these rude acts for the rest of my life.

 
; I feel the same way that I did after the first prank. Weak. After years of building myself up following the cruelness of others, I thought that I had built a thicker skin than this. One confession from Vlad, one small snippet of truth, and I’m transported back in time. To the feelings I had the first day I had to clean garbage from a school bathroom out of my locker and backpack. I thought I was stronger than this, but maybe I was wrong.

  Vlad places two fingers under my chin and forces me to look up. His faces holds an expression of barely contained fury, but to my surprise his words reveal the anger isn’t directed at me. “Who put garbage on you today, little Mir?”

  With a deep breath, I steel my spine and make the split second decision to own this new information. The torment is a part of who I am, as much as painting. It holds no power over me, if I own it. I can choose to break, to ignore it, or to fight back.

  Before I can answer a high pitched animal yelp pierces the air, sounding as if it’s coming from behind the house. Vlad drops my chin and springs to his feet and is out in the hall with seconds. “Stay here,” he commands as he moves away swiftly.

  I slowly rise to my feet, shaking my entire body as if I can shed the feelings of helplessness as easily as removing a knit blanket thrown on for warmth. I head into the kitchen just as Vlad’s exiting through the back door, still dressed in only a pair of gym shorts.

  “What is he doing?” I mutter to myself, trying to see what’s happening outside by peering through the kitchen window into the backyard. I can see Vlad slowly approaching a massive wolf barring its teeth, he has his hands out in front of him and takes one slow step at a time. Vlad is a tall guy, but the tallest part of the wolf is barely a foot under Vlad’s head. I’ve never seen an animal this large in the wild before. Even standing on four legs, it looks to be taller than me. “He’s going to get himself killed! He’s not even wearing a shirt.” I yell into the kitchen air, despite being by myself.

  Through the window, I see Vlad pause momentarily, but I don’t watch what happens next, instead I scramble, looking for a weapon. I settle on grabbing the broom and quietly exit through the back door. If the wolf lunges I can try to beat him away with the broom handle so that Vlad isn’t completely defenseless against the animal’s teeth and claws.

  I creep closer to the pair on my tip toes and hear Vlad talking in a low, soothing voice to the wolf, still holding his hands in front of him. “It’s okay Garth, it’s all going to be okay. Calm down buddy, you’re going to be okay.”

  Garth? He named the wolf after one of his friends? My surprise at his words momentarily distracts me and I forget to watch my step for just one second. That second is all it takes for my foot to hit the edge of a rock just enough to disturb my balance and I crash to the ground about fifteen feet away from Vlad as he’s closing in on the wolf.

  My eyes widen in fear, as the yellow eyes of the wolf lock onto mine. The deep brown fur covering his spine, rises and a deep, menacing growl sounds from his throat. As I lay on the ground, locked into a staring contest, my life starts to flash before my eyes. Then suddenly events happen in a rapid succession, too quickly for me to follow or completely comprehend.

  A group of three men carrying strange looking rifles burst through the woods. They quickly assess the scene before one of them raises a gun and shoots at the wolf, just as his front feet start to leave the ground as he points his body in my direction. A set of three small darts leave the gun barrel, sailing through the air, connecting with the wolf as his body begins to fly across the space between us. The last thing I remember before my vision turns to black, is the wolf falling to a heap on the ground and Vlad calling out my name.

  I wake up laying down with a cold fabric covering my forehead. I’m groggy and disoriented, not sure where I am or how I got there. I feel a heavy weight near my feet and look that direction to find Vlad watching something on the TV. Memories of the giant wolf come flooding back. “Is the wolf okay? Why did you call it Garth?”

  Vlad startles at my voice and his face looks concerned when his eyes meet mine. “Mira!” His voice sounds relieved and his eyes soften when they meet mine. “I’m glad you’re finally awake.” He lets out a sigh, “I called your parents and they’re on their way to bring you home to rest.”

  I make a continue-on-talking motion with my hand, wanting answers to my questions. Vlad lets out another deep sigh, this one more resigned than relieved. “The wolf is fine, animal control tranquilized him and he’s on his way to a nature preserve farther away from town. They think he got hungry and wandered here on accident.” His eyes turn back to the TV, but he tacks on, “I didn’t call him Garth though, I think you imagined that.”

  I’m about to protest, I know what I heard, but at that exact moment the front door bursts open and my parents fly into the room. My mom yells out “MY BABY!” As she sinks to her knees in front of the couch near my face. Her hands begin to poke and prod all over my neck and face. “Where are you hurt? Let’s take you to the hospital.”

  “Mooom,” I whine. “I’m fine, I was just surprised by the wolf running around and fainted.” It’s embarrassing enough to swoon, I don’t need my parents to make an even bigger deal out of it than it already is. “Can you guys just take me home? I have a bit of a headache, but I think I’ll feel better with some sleep.”

  My dad saves me from my mom. “Come on, sweets. Let’s get you set up in Mira’s car so you can drive it home for her. We can keep an eye on her and decide if she needs to see a doctor if her condition seems to worsen.” My mom lets my dad help her stand. Before they head back outside he turns back for another request, “Vlad, son, can you carry her out and load her in my car for me.”

  Vlad nods at my father and lifts me up without any warning, placing one arm behind my legs and another behind my back. He carries me to my father’s SUV like I’m as light as a piece of paper, placing me gently into the passenger seat. He even buckles me in, tugging on the belt to make sure it’s locked in tightly. To my surprise, he runs a knuckle across my cheek and leans in to press a soft kiss against my forehead, whispering “See you tomorrow, little Mir.” Before he backs away and closes the door.

  With eyes widen in shock, I keep my eyes on Vlad for as long as possible. He stands in front of his house watching the car until it pulls away. Even then I can see him standing on his porch, in the side view mirror. I don’t lose sight of him until we turn onto a different street within his neighborhood.

  This has been the weirdest birthday I’ve ever had.

  11

  The Wolf

  Mirabella

  I wake up surprisingly excited to see Vlad for Sunday dinner, clearing the air yesterday felt like a fresh start between us. One that I’m anxious to explore, hoping that maybe he’ll be another friend I can count on, after Sylvia, of course.

  My eagerness for dinner makes the day feel like it takes ages to pass by. As I wait out the time before the Mort’s arrive, my mind keeps replaying the events from yesterday. Although it was a huge downer to learn that the students at my school banded together to bully me outside of Vlad’s influence, I’m still happy to know where we stand.

  I’m also still in awe of my family’s heritage and halfway through the day, I pull out the book about my ancestry and start on the first page, reading the in depth descriptions contained within the ancient pages. The reading is heavy and slow moving, but it keeps my mind engaged and limits my thoughts from wandering to Vlad.

  Finally my alarm goes off signifying it’s an hour before dinner will start. I replace the book in its hiding spot before moving to get dressed. Changing outfits six times, I eventually settle on a light blue romper with a flaring skirt-type bottom that makes it look like a dress. Cute, but casual, I confirm, eyeing my reflection in the mirror. I’m on the last stages of my preparations- flopping my hair back and forth over my shoulders, trying to decide where it looks best- when I hear the doorbell ring.

  “I’ll get it!” I yell as I fly down the stairs. When I reach the bot
tom, I slow my pace and smooth my hands down my front. Trying to look casual, I saunter over to the door and pull it open. “Hi…” I start to say, trailing off when I see Marc, not Vlad standing on my porch.

  With everything that’s happened over the past few days, I’d forgotten that I sort of invited Marc to attend Sunday dinner with us tonight. He smiles at me, his flawless white teeth glinting in the sun. He holds up some flowers that are clutched in his left hand, “I brought you these.”

  My mom suddenly appears behind me in the doorway and asks, “Mira, who’s this young man standing on the porch?”

  “Mom, this is Marc from the F.O. Daily, Marc this is my Mom, Heather.” I’m pushed to the side as they shake hands and my mom invites him to come in. She takes my flowers and rushes off to find a vase.

  Her departure leaves us standing awkwardly in the entryway, staring at each other like we’ve never been on a date before. For me that’s a true statement, but I’m guessing the same can’t be said for Marc. We continue standing in a weird silence for a couple more seconds before I take the initiative. “Would you lik-” I begin at the same time he starts to say, “Should we-”

  We both stop our sentences at the same time, gesturing to the other to speak. Our synchrony causes us to start laughing, which helps to wash away the awkwardness. I invite Marc back into the sitting room that we usually use, when we wait for dinner with the Mort’s. A deck of cards is sitting on the table and we use it to pass the time. The two of us are in the midst of a cutthroat game of gin rummy when I hear a commotion in the entryway.

  The doors to the sitting room crash open and Mrs. Mort, Tricia, comes sashaying into the room. Her husband and my father follow after, already deep in conversation. My mother trails after them. Then, a minute or two after, finally Vlad walks in. He’s quickly engaged by my mother, turning his neck to put his ear closer as he listens to an elaborate story that appears to involve wild hand gestures.