Cursing Fate

by Brenda Drake

“That would be fun,” she said, leaning closer to him. “What are we going to do?”

  “I was thinking I’d grab a pizza,” he said. “Bring my laptop. The marina has wifi, so I thought we could watch a movie. You know, get some alone time.”

  “I like that idea.” She gave him a bright smile, but there was something mischievous in her eyes. “Pick me up at my house at six?”

  Even her voice sounded different. Wade forced a smile. “Sounds good.”

  She spun around to go.

  “Hey.” Wade caught her hand. “I’ll walk you to class.”

  She gripped his hand. “That would be nice.”

  Nice? She definitely hit her head hard.

  When she didn’t let go, he laced her fingers with his and walked hand in hand down the hall.

  The boat swayed, lightly bumping against the slip. Wade closed the pizza box and piled the used plates and napkins on top of it. Iris popped the last of the crust in her mouth, then chased it down with her Dr Pepper.

  “This pizza and drink are delicious.” Iris took another swig from her can. “I never tasted something this divine before.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” He crinkled his eyebrows. “You live on Dr Pepper. And why are you talking funny?”

  “How so?”

  “Like that,” he said. “You’re in a play again, aren’t you?” It was annoying when she’d practice on him. He didn’t wait for her response. Instead, he got out of the booth and picked up his laptop. “Let’s get comfortable and watch a movie.” He led the way to the loft bed in the forward part of the boat.

  She slipped off her shoes before hoisting herself up onto the mattress. He followed her in, placing the laptop on the built-in shelf.

  “You want a comedy or drama?”

  “I like horror flicks,” she said.

  Flicks? Wade shook his head. “No you don’t. Remember the last one we watched? Scared you out of your mind. How about something light?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She stretched out on the bed. “We won’t be watching much of it, anyway.”

  He clicked on the movie-streaming site and scrolled through the movies. She was definitely seducing him. It concerned him. Which was stupid. What hot-blooded male would resist her? Damn his mom for instilling morals in him. Until he was sure about them, that they could move past the trust issue, it was hands off. If things didn’t work out for them, he didn’t want her having any regrets.

  He clicked on a comedy and scooted over to her, propping up against the pillows.

  She laid her head on his chest and nuzzled against his side. He was hyperaware of her hand on his chest and her foot rubbing up and down his leg.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting comfortable,” she said.

  Concentrate on the movie, Wade.

  Her hand twitched slightly, moving down a little, her pinkie just above his belt.

  He drew in a calming breath. Is she doing this on purpose?

  She arched her back, causing her breasts to push against his side and something of his to push against his pants.

  “This is nice.” Her voice was breathy and tickled his senses.

  “It’s great,” he said, trying to act unaffected.

  He wanted her badly, but an inner voice kept nagging at him. How could you trust her?

  She propped up on one of her elbows so she could look into his eyes. “Why are you resisting all my plays?”

  “You’re making plays?” He so wished his voice hadn’t shuddered over “plays.”

  With a quick laugh, she crawled on top of him and pressed her lips to his. His hands slid over her back and he pulled her closer to him, deepening the kiss. Her lips parted with a moan and she slipped her tongue in his mouth. She tasted like Dr Pepper.

  She straddled him, grasping his shirt. He helped her lift it over his head. She tossed the shirt aside and ran her hands across his chest, sending tingles over his skin. Her lips found his again and she lightly bit his lower lip before kissing his neck and continuing to his chest.

  When her hands went to his belt and fingers fumbled with the buckle, Wade snapped out of it.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait.” He sat up and scooted away from her. “What are we doing here?”

  “I want you,” she said through panted breath. “Don’t you want me?”

  It wasn’t about if he wanted her. Because he did. Bad. It would be a dickhead move to refuse what she was offering. But something wasn’t right.

  She reached out for him. “Come on. I’m ready. I want you.”

  It was clear to him that he would one day regret this decision. “A guy has to plan for this.”

  She brushed the hair from her face. “How so?”

  “You know.”

  “No I don’t.” God. Her skin glistening with perspiration was so hot.

  “I don’t have a condom.”

  “What’s that?”

  He was beginning to think an alien had taken over her body. “A condom. To keep you from getting pregnant and to prevent diseases.”

  “I don’t have a disease.” Her shirt was unbuttoned at the top, exposing her bra and part of her stomach. She reached for him again. “We don’t need one.”

  Wade grabbed his shirt and put it on. “It’s getting late. I should bring you home before your dad worries.”

  “You’re really something,” she snapped, fumbling to button her shirt with shaky hands. “If you don’t want me, I’ll find someone who does.”

  “Hey, stop it.” He pulled her into his arms. “What’s going on with you? Of course I want you. I didn’t mean to make you feel rejected. I just think ever since what happened the other day, you’re not yourself.” He lifted her chin with his finger and looked pointedly into her eyes. “I care about you.” He kissed her.

  Her eyes popped open and she pushed back from him. “Wade, I do need your help,” she said quickly and with great force. “I’m not myself. Talk to Dais—”

  Her face scrunched up and she groaned, grabbing her head.

  “Iris?” Whatever was happening to her was scaring the shit out of him. “Are you hurt?”

  She released her head and smiled up at him. “I just keep getting headaches. I’m fine. The doctor says it’s stress. You probably should get me home.”

  “Okay.” He had a sinking feeling something was extremely wrong with her.

  Violet would know what to do.

  They straightened their clothes before leaving. Wade threw the empty pizza box and used paper goods into the trash can at the end of the docks. Iris on the back of his bike felt different, barely holding on and sitting away from him. Usually, she leaned into him and clenched him tight.

  When they arrived at her house, she didn’t wait for him to walk her to the door. Instead, she darted up the steps and yelled over her shoulder, “Good evening!”

  Good evening? She sounded like her gram.

  Before he took off, a thought struck him. After she got a headache, he thought she was going to mention her sister. She said to talk to Daisy.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Iris/Crina

  Crina slammed Iris’s bedroom door. “Unbelievable. Finally free to do whatever I want and you have to be virtuous.”

  You were going to have sex with him. Iris fumed. Give me back my body.

  “Poor Iris. Why do you think I’m taking control?” Crina unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off. “Haven’t you wondered? With each cursed fate I give, the closer I get to ridding myself of you forever.” She removed her bra, running her hands across her flat stomach. “I do like this body. So pretty you are. So young. Healthy. And impeccably clean.”

  Don’t touch me.

  “It’s not me. It’s us.”

  You’re evil and old.

  “You hurt my feelings, Iris. I was your age when I died. Already a mother, I was.”

  My age?

  “Yes.” Crina inspected their shared body in the mirror. “The longer I have control, the sooner you w
ill turn into the curse. And once you do, I know how to extract you from this body and put you into the cards. I will then destroy them, thus you will be dead. And I will live on.”

  You’re a monster.

  “Perhaps.” She searched the drawers. “I once was a girl like you. In love. But he betrayed me.” She stopped at the drawer that held Iris’s pajamas and held up a tank top. “This is horrible. Don’t you have something more feminine to wear for bed?”

  Iris wasn’t going to answer her. They may have traded places, but Iris wasn’t weak. Sure, Crina had taken control. But that meant Iris could, too. She would mess up Crina as much as possible. Hopefully someone would notice.

  Daisy. I have to get to her. Hopefully Miri found out a way to get rid of Crina.

  Dressed in Iris’s favorite pajama bottoms and tank top, Crina sat on the bed, shuffling through the tarot cards. “Let’s see. Which fate would be best for our next victim? Marsha Simmons. She really is a rotten person. Don’t you think? Well, that’s silly. Of course you think that.”

  Part of Iris wanted Marsha to get what she deserved. The bigger part, the one that cared about all living things, even insects, didn’t wish her any harm.

  “I must say.” She spoke, glancing at cards one at a time before tossing them on the bed. “The man who crushed me wasn’t as handsome as Wade. Such a wonderful prize I’ll have when I’ve finished exorcising you from this body.”

  Iris didn’t want to listen to Crina and her conquest over Wade. She wished she could just go to sleep and wake up the next morning free of the wretched woman. Or girl. Whatever she was, she was a nightmare.

  Crina stopped on a card.

  The Devil card? Iris didn’t like the looks of that. What will that do?

  “She’s a devil, that one.” She rubbed circles on the back of the card until the vines had gone from green to black. “It’s fitting. I am not certain what will come of it. She could suffer any number of consequences from fostering all the cardinal sins—pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth.”

  Sloth?

  “It’s being lazy, either spiritually or emotionally.” She stood and crossed the room to Iris’s backpack on the window seat.

  Don’t do it. You could save yourself. We could find a way.

  Crina threw her head back and laughed. “Silly girl. I don’t want saving.” Her eyes went to the mirror, and Iris could see herself. She looked like her but different. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but she was different. Were her eyes a darker blue? Her face paler? Whatever it was, maybe attitude, it was dark—evil.

  “I want to live,” Crina said.

  I want to live, too. Iris was tired. She had discovered that when that happened, she vanished or slept. She couldn’t be sure which one.

  The rain hit like cold daggers against Crina’s face and arms. Mud grabbed onto her shoes as if trying to keep her from moving forward. In the distance, the castle was ablaze with flickering lights.

  It was a painful memory for Crina, and Iris didn’t want to be in it.

  The old woman is wrong, Crina thought. She had every right to seek revenge. Armand had used her and had thrown her away like a rind of an eaten fruit. Armand could have walked away from his duty, but he chose not to. After Crina told this to the woman, the witch helped her create the curse.

  Duty.

  Every Van Buren heir would suffer for it.

  A sacrifice must be made to seal the curse. The woman had told her. Crina wasn’t afraid of what she must do. She was dead already, a corpse walking around without a heart.

  The doors to the castle were tall and thick. She had to push her weight against one to open it, the warm light spilling over her. She shivered and headed in the direction of voices—across the foyer and down a wide corridor. The servants were too busy attending the dinner to notice Crina’s entrance into the dining hall.

  It was a celebration for Armand. He had turned eighteen. With all the riches around him and the fine fabrics of his clothing, he looked different to Crina. Less of a man.

  The first person to spot her was Armand’s mother. The woman would never be a grandmother to Oana, probably hadn’t any knowledge that the baby existed. She pushed out her chair and stood.

  “What is this?” Armand’s mother glanced at the servants.

  The others at the long table, nearly twenty or so men and women, all looked at Crina.

  Armand shot up from his seat. “I will take care of the matter.” He charged over to her, grabbed her elbow, and led her out of the room. “Why are you here?” he hissed under his breath.

  Crina tried to yank her elbow free from his grasp, but his grip tightened, strong fingers digging into her skin.

  “You betrayed me,” she said loudly, not caring who heard her.

  “Hush or I’ll—”

  “Kill me?” Crina glared at him. “I’m already dead.”

  “Armand?” A voice so sweet, yet commanding, came from behind them.

  Crina looked over her shoulder. Coal-colored eyes met hers. It was as if someone had dressed up a sickly girl from the market—she was pale and beautifully dressed. At the sight of his bride, Crina sagged in Armand’s hold. Beaten. Defeated.

  Before she realized it, he had her at the front door and shoved her outside. “Now go, and don’t ever come here again.”

  Tears burned Crina’s eyes. “You never loved me. What of our daughter? Do you not want to know her?”

  “You’re married,” Armand said. “The daughter belongs to your husband.”

  “How could you?” she said over a sob.

  “Armand? What is happening here?” The girl stopped behind him; her eyes held concern or maybe empathy for Crina, who must have looked like a pauper with her clothes muddied and torn.

  Crina almost faltered. The girl was innocent. She had no idea what Armand had done, what he had promised Crina. But the anger on Armand’s face and the hatred in his eyes called Crina into action. She pulled the Death card out of the pocket of her skirt.

  “You will know my pain, Armand. Your descendants will feel it for years to come.” Crina held up the card. “I curse you and yours. All Van Buren firstborn sons will die on their eighteenth birthday.” She threw the card. The instant it left her fingertips, it burst into flames and soared across the space between her and Armand. It hit him in the chest, catching his waistcoat on fire.

  “Have you lost your mind?” He scrambled out of his jacket, dropped it on the floor, and stamped it out.

  She turned and ran, slipping in the mud and falling to her knees.

  “Crina!” Armand yelled from behind her.

  She got up and sprinted down the road. He was still behind her.

  Why is he following me?

  It was dark, the moon hidden behind clouds, so dark she could hardly see in front of her. She passed under a Sleeping Willow, tangling in its branches as she made her way to the river.

  “Crina!” Armand called. He couldn’t see anything, either.

  She tied the hem of her skirt to its waistband, creating a sort of pouch. Gathering rocks, she dropped them into the pouch until it was so heavy she struggled to walk into the water. The river was freezing. With each step in, she sank lower into its depths.

  The curse requires a sacrifice. A death. She recalled the old woman’s words. It must be a great sacrifice. The baby would do. But Crina couldn’t kill her baby. The little thing was innocent. Tomas loved her dearly. He was a good man. Crina hadn’t deserved him.

  I will be the sacrifice.

  The water lapped against her chin and she heard him again. “Crina! Please. I am sorry. I truly loved…love you. I had no choice… Where are you?”

  No choice? You had more than one, Armand. And you chose wealth over love.

  Murky water filled her ears and nose and stung her eyes.

  Oana’s face flickered across her mind—the baby’s chubby hand wrapped around Crina’s finger as she fed.

  Crina panicked. She held her breath and
tried to swim, pulling her arms through the water, but the rocks weighed her down and she couldn’t move. Darkness closed around her and she inhaled water; her struggle stopped, arms floating lifeless in front of her.

  The kitchen smelled like fried bread and fresh oranges. The amount of syrup Crina poured on her pancakes made Iris’s teeth hurt. The bottle farted as she squeezed out the last bit. A look passed between Dad and Daisy. Iris only put fresh fruit or peanut butter on her stacks. She hoped Daisy would get suspicious about all the butter and syrup Crina was using.

  Daisy smirked at Dad and then went back to cutting her pancakes with her fork.

  Come on, Daisy— Iris stopped her thought, fearing Crina would find out what Iris was up to. Daisy had to see that Crina had gained more control over Iris. She needed Daisy to hurry up and find a way to get the spirit bitch out of her.

  Iris tried to figure out a way to trip Crina up—how to take back control. Crina was able to push through. Iris had to figure out how to do it.

  “So, Iris,” Daisy said, stabbing pieces of pancakes to make a tower on her fork. “You must be running out of drops by now; we should get more. I can go with you.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Crina said and shoveled a mouthful of dripping cakes into her mouth.

  Iris was horrified. If Crina kept eating like that, they’d gain some pounds. You know that’s bad for us, right? I’m mean…don’t get me wrong, I splurge at times. But not every day. It’ll catch up to us.

  It’s my body now. I’ll do as I wish with it, Crina snapped.

  Iris couldn’t see what her dad and Daisy were doing with Crina’s head down.

  “Are you sure?” Daisy asked. “You could drop me off and I can run in while you wait. Like we did before.”

  Crina looked up. “I’m not taking them anymore. Trying to eat better, so I won’t need them.”

  A look crossed over Daisy’s face, one that was a mix between suspicious and confused.

  Look away, Daisy. Don’t let her notice you’re scrutinizing her.

  As if Daisy heard Iris, she went back to stabbing pancakes. “Suit yourself. It’s your body.”

  Crina was amused. She doesn’t know how right she is. It is my body now.