Cursed (The Curse Trilogy Book 1)

by Nicole Marsh

  I don’t realize that I’m holding my breath, until it whooshes out at the sight of Vlad in a leather jacket and a pair of jeans. He must hear my exhale because his eyes lock onto mine as soon as it’s released. Our intense staring contest is interrupted when a red wall appears between us. Shaking my head to clear my vision, I realize Tricia’s moved to the spot directly in front of me and is smiling down, waiting for my attention. “Mira, honey, give me a hug! A week is too long to pass without seeing each other.”

  Smiling back, I drop my handful of cards onto the table, stand from the couch, and allow her to squeeze the life out of me. She smooshes my face into her bosom, enveloping me into a surprisingly tight hold, considering her relatively scrawny arms. I try to take a subtle, deep breath when she finally releases me. Feeling a bit lightheaded after trying to breathe through my smooshed face.

  After I step back, Tricia turns her gaze to Marc, her eyes flitting down his form now standing next to mine. He must’ve stood from the couch when I did. He places a hand on my lower back and leans forward to offer Tricia a handshake, “I’m Marc.”

  “Marc!” Tricia exclaims, “Not the same Marc from the F.O. Daily?”

  Marc offers her a one of his dazzling smiles. “Yes, that one.”

  Tricia’s eyes twinkle as she releases her clutch on Marc’s hand. “Mirabella and Vlad’s boss.” She says with a small nod of her head. “I’ve heard so much about you, I feel like I basically know you already. And look at the two of you, matching at Sunday Dinner!” She gestures her hand at our outfits.

  I see Marc look at my outfit at the same time I take in his. When he arrived, I didn’t bother looking over his outfit, I was too distracted by the fact that he wasn’t Vlad, then our awkward silence. Tricia’s word make me realize Marc’s button up shirt is the same color blue as my romper.

  After we eye each other’s clothes, our eyes connect and we both laugh. We look like one of those crazy couples that insists on wearing matching outfits, instead of a boss and employee that ate ice cream together once and now are doing a “meet the parents” type thing.

  “Unintentionally,” I respond to Tricia’s words with a small smile.

  Jacob walks in to announce that dinner is ready and we all file into the dining room together to eat and carry on the conversation that he interrupted. I end up squished into a seat between Vlad and Marc. Both males appear to have shifted their seats closer and expanded because I can’t move without bumping body parts with someone. I try to relax in the tension that radiates over my head as they lock gazes in a silent stare down. Despite my earlier excitement, I have a feeling I will be ready for dinner to be over shortly, if these two can’t behave more normally.

  Tricia asks Marc where he’s from and I smile as he tells her about his hometown in Connecticut. I’m quickly distracted from their conversation, however, when Vlad starts to slowly rub his left foot up and down the back of my calf. It’s like a strange version of footsie, but the sensation makes goose flesh appear on my skin.

  I’m hyperaware of his movements, watching his face for any sign that this is purposeful. His expression doesn’t change and he appears to be listening intently to the conversation between his mother and Marc. Maybe he thinks my leg is one of the chair legs. When he finally ceases, I’m unsure whether I’m relieved or disappointed.

  I try to catch Vlad’s eye, wanting to mouth a quick “sorry”. I feel like I need to apologize for Marc being at dinner. I’d forgotten I invited him, otherwise I would’ve warned him beforehand. The sort of invite occurred before everything happened yesterday and I want Vlad to know that. To keep our new truce and tentative friendship. I’m worried that I’ve already messed up by having Marc here.

  Vlad studiously avoids my gaze, focusing on his food, the other conversations at the table, anything that keeps his attention off of me. I can tell he feels my gaze on him though, because his lips turn up into a small smirk on the side, which he aims at me without looking.

  I’m forced to give up eventually. My attention is grabbed by Marc, he places his hand on my thigh and I turn to offer him a small smile. “Everything okay?” He asks in a low voice,

  I answer on autopilot, “Of course, I’m happy you could make it.”

  Marc offers me another one of his perfect-toothed smiles, then his eyes focus on the other side of me. Marc’s grip tightens on my thigh, then Vlad suddenly starts up again rubbing his foot against my calf. I want to let out a groan. I can’t wait for this dinner to be over.

  Marc and the Mort’s leave at the same time and I heave a huge sigh of relief, leaning against the wall after the door closes after them. That was by far the strangest Sunday dinner we’ve had, as far as I can remember. I’m peeling myself off the door to go upstairs, when the doorbell rings.

  I’m surprised when I open the door to find a bashful-looking Vlad standing on the other side, running his hands through his hair and staring down at the ground. “Vlad?” I ask, when he doesn’t immediately look up at me.

  “Uhh hey,” He responds. “I forgot my coat, can I come in and grab it?”

  “Sure,” I say with a shrug. It’s been unseasonably cold the last few days. Hovering around sixty degrees this week, despite the fact that it’s summer. At night it’s getting even colder and drizzling on and off, so it’s understandable that he wouldn’t want to wait until next week to come back and get his coat.

  “Would you want to come over? Maybe we could watch a movie and eat some ice cream?” Vlad asks as he closes the closet in the entryway, coat firmly in hand.

  Pausing for a second, I think over his offer. I was planning to paint tonight. As excited as I was to see Vlad earlier today, I also feel like I’ve been neglecting my art now that my schedule has filled with work obligations and I’m starting to miss the peace that painting brings me. After a moment of thought, I decide that it’s okay to put off painting for one more day and accept Vlad’s invite. “Sure, let me just change into something a bit more comfortable.”

  Sprinting up the stairs, I scurry around my room, changing into a pair of leggings and a drapey sweater in record time. I snag a pair of fur lined boots on my way out the door and meet Vlad in the foyer.

  Together we walk out of the house and down to the driveway. I hover near the front door of my Prius, asking, “Should we both drive?”

  “I don’t mind bringing you back later, if you want to ride together,” Vlad offers.

  I shrug and walk over to the passenger side of the car. We spend the first minute or so in silence, until I lean forward to turn up the radio. Apparently Vlad has the same idea, because our hands hit each other in front of the volume button. His skin touching mine causes a small zap of electricity and I let out an “ouch” the same time he mutters, “You shocked me!” We both laugh and he gestures for me to choose a station. I find one that’s playing today’s hits and we spend our car ride, listening to pop music.

  Tricia is in the kitchen when we walk inside. She shoots Vlad a mischievous look before she says, “We’ll stay in our room. You two can have the living room to yourselves.”

  I’m not sure if it’s intentional or not, but her words seem to insinuate that Vlad and I are a couple and that we need privacy. My cheeks blush hotly in response.

  Vlad doesn’t react in any visible way, just calls out, “Thanks, Mom.” And plops down onto the middle couch cushion and picks up the remote, turning on the TV.

  I hover awkwardly in the entryway until Vlad pats the cushion next to him twice, signaling I should take a seat. I sit next to him, trying to give enough space so that our legs don’t touch, despite the fact that Vlad seems to expand with each breath, surging closer to my side of the couch and filling the space between us. His eyes are focused on the TV as he flicks through movie options.

  I’m startled when Vlad throws an arm across the back of the couch, curling his hand around my shoulder and pulling me into his side. I had been leaning slightly into the arm of the couch, trying to give him more space. Before the
arm, he hadn’t give any indication that he’d notice, not looking away from the screen, but I’m starting to realize that Vlad the kind of person that see’s things without letting on that he’s aware they’re happening. Observing in silence and storing the information for future use.

  I decide that he seems in a good mood but I should still apologize for blindsiding him with Marc at family dinner. After everything that’s happened this weekend, it feels like I owe Vlad an explanation. It’s not like we’re a couple or anything, but we just cleared the air over the whole bullying issue and I don’t want to create another rift so soon afterwards.

  “Vlad?” I start. I dive in, encouraged by his small “hmm” in response. “I told Marc about Sunday dinner on Friday and he kind of invited himself. I didn’t mean to make tonight weird or anything by having him come to the house with both of our families there.”

  Vlad finally shifts his gaze from the TV to my face. He opens his mouth to respond, when a howl sounds out back, interrupting whatever he’s about to say. Vlad jumps up from the couch and hurries to the kitchen, flinging the door open to bang against the wall in his haste to get outside and investigate the noise.

  I follow him outside, careful to watch my step as I pick my way across the backyard of his parent’s house in the faint light from the porch, feeling a wave of déjà vu from the last time I was here. A large mass of fur is visible beyond the first few trees of the greenbelt behind Vlad’s parent’s home.

  Together we approach the animal, slowing as we inch closer. About five feet away, the mass of fur becomes distinguishable as another wolf. Almost as large as the last one, near the size of a grizzly bear. Unlike the other wolf, this one is whimpering in pain. His rear left leg is visibly injured. Bent at an odd angle, with blood slowly seeping out, the animal appears to have been hit by a car.

  I step past Vlad towards the animal, a surge of anger making me bold. Who could hit this creature with their car? It had to be intentional. There’s no way an animal this size wasn’t visible on the roadway, even in the dark headlights would illuminate something of this size with ease.

  Vlad’s throws an arm in my path to form a human barrier, but I push past him towards the wolf. Without getting too close, I lean down and extend my arm as far as possible to gently pet down the side of the wolf’s neck. I can feel Vlad grasping onto the back of my shirt, as if he’ll be able to use the leverage to rip me out of harm’s way if the animal chooses to strike.

  This poor, majestic creature will likely have to be put down, all because of someone’s negligence. I continue to stroke my hand down the soft fur as tears begin to leak out of my eyes. I feel Vlad let go of my shirt and soon his hand connects with mine, holding my palm in a tight, but gentle grip and giving it a squeeze in silent understanding. Another small shock of electricity hits between our two connected palms when the skin touches, like the spark in the car.

  I turn my gaze to look at Vlad, wondering if he shares my sadness for this poor animal, but underneath my hand, the wolf starts to vibrate and pulls my attention back. Before I can choose a reaction, Vlad tugs my hand firmly, bringing my body propelling towards him. He crushes my back to his chest and I can feel his entire body tight with apprehension as we both watch the wolf continue to shake.

  As we stand together, the wolf slowly shrinks before our eyes and patches of fur start to disappear. “What?” I gasp out.

  Is this some type of expedited deterioration process? Does this wolf have a disease? I frantically wipe my hand down my pant leg. Now I regret my urge to comfort the poor, injured wolf. If he was diseased, hopefully it’s not passed through skin to skin contact. Or skin to fur contact.

  My thoughts are derailed as a popping noise rings out, then suddenly the wolf is no longer laying there. In its place is a teenage boy, writhing in agony, holding his still injured leg with one of his hands. It’s no longer bent at an odd angle, but it’s still bleeding.

  The boy turns his head and I catch my first glimpse at his face. It isn’t some random stranger laying in the woods. I recognize that face.

  It’s the other guy that we interviewed on the football field with Tony. What was his name? Eric.

  12

  The Council

  Vlad

  Five days ago, Mira saw a shifter change back to his human form in the woods behind my house. It was her second time encountering a shifter in their animal form in my presence, but apparently the witches don’t disclose information about shifters until you’re accepted into the coven.

  Shortly after the shift, Mira fainted. I think she’s officially met some quotas for the month recently, specifically putting herself into dangerous situations and fainting once they’re resolved. Then again, Mira always seems to surprise me, so who knows what she’ll get into next.

  When she came to after fainting, the most recent time, she was back on my couch and I had to explain to her what she saw. Her eyes were wide with shock and I discovered that she didn’t know my side of the Main Road was filled with shifters.

  I can still remember her voice as she stuttered out “There’s not only witches, but shifters too?!”

  The whole situation was uncomfortable. It felt like I was giving the birds and the bees talk to an eight year old. Filling her in on a bunch of overwhelming information that she’s not ready to use yet and doesn’t really affect her. I was concerned she was going to faint again at the end of our talk, when I told her about the curse on the wolves in our town. If you resist the call of the shift for too long, your mind can deteriorate and you get stuck as a feral wolf the next time you shift.

  She gasped and said “how awful.” I agree with her sentiment. The call of the shift can happen at incredibly inconvenient times and we’ve all had to learn to keep a cool head even in the most stressful situations. Too much anger, adrenaline, or fear are the quickest way to find yourself with the urge to shift in a less than an ideal situation.

  Now, five days following the latest incident, I’m standing on my front porch holding a letter from the Elder Council, addressed to both Mira and I. Flipping it between my hands, I try to decide the best course of action. Maybe I’ll open it and it won’t be so bad.

  Maybe it’s a thank you card, like “thank you for helping a shifter out of a tough situation and comforting him when he was hurt” card. Or an invitation to the next Shifter formal.

  I take one deep breath and rip off the metaphorical band aid, which in this case is tearing open an envelope that probably contains something sinister. Inside I find a single, thick sheet of paper. I unfold it slowly, knowing that this isn’t a thank you. Using my meditative training, I keep my breaths even and tamper down on my fear. I don’t have time to shift right now.

  Once the piece of paper is unfolded, I read the first five words and over the rest before I fold it back up and storm into my house, straight for my room. I open my desk drawer and shove the request from the Council to the very back. As if placing it so far out of sight could erase it from existence.

  If only it worked that way.

  Mira and I have been summoned to the community building for questioning. Technically the shifter Council has no power over the witches in Florence. The only people with authority over them is their coven, but the summons was strongly worded to compel. Unfortunately for them, I don’t plan to tell Mira that she’s been summoned and the request for me was to accompany her, so I don’t feel too guilty ignoring it.

  Attending Council events can be dangerous to shifters, despite being of the same race and for the most part, on the same side. The punishments that are garnered from issues that require reporting to the Council can be severe.

  Witches would face much worse than shifters in the community building. They’re not only a different race, but the Council preaches that the witch coven is responsible for the curse placed on the wolves. The summons for questioning seems more like a threat than a friendly invitation.

  I’m not telling Mira about the letter. The Council can’t enforce their re
quest, there’s no point in worrying her. Or worse, having her push to go see the Council on her own.

  Tonight, I convinced Mira to let me come over and see her studio. I’ve never seen her paint, I didn’t even know that it was something she was interested in until she told me about it at the Diner before a work assignment. It’s a hobby she picked up after our friendship ended back in middle school.

  My parents say that she’s a good artist. I guess one of the paintings in the living room is hers. They bought a few years ago was from one of her art shows. It’s crazy to me that at sixteen years old she painted enough and was good enough to have her own art show at the high school on her side of town.

  I waste the day away, doing anything and everything I can to distract myself from the summons until it’s time to hop in my car and head to Mira’s. I’ve always loved spending time with Mira. There was a short period of time that I didn’t realize the value of her friendship- it happened right after my parents sat me down and told me I’m adopted.

  They explained how they tried for years to have a baby of their own, but nothing worked. Not even fertility treatments were successful. About to give up hope, my parents ended up finding the biggest blessing of all, me. That’s how my mom always tells the story- I was left on their front porch. Cries of an infant woke her up from a dead sleep. She thought she was imagining the sound at first, until my father also woke asking what the wailing noise was. Together, they slowly descended their stairs, opened the door, and found a bundle of blankets on the porch, with a full head of dark hair and amber eyes barely visible in the mass.

  My mom says it was love at first sight and the first few months were filled with fear that I was going to be taken away. They tried to do the right thing and find my parents, but no one came forward to claim me. My parents said they felt guilty for being grateful they got to keep me. Finally having a child of their own like they’d wanted for years.